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August 1930
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but not onde for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross; but I have never thought o f my cross as itself a present glory. Teach me the glory o f my cross; teach me the value of my thorn. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path o f pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow.” By the thorn-road and no other, is the mount of vision won.— Selected. Christian, take good care o f thy faith, for recollect that faith is the only means whereby thou canst obtain blessings. Prayer cannot draw down answers from God’s throne except it be the earnest prayer o f the man who believes. Faith is the telegraphic wire which links earth to heaven, on which God’s messages of love fly so fast that before we call He answers, and while we are yet speaking He hears us. But if that telegraphic wire o f faith be snapped, how can we obtain the prom ise? "Am I in trouble? I can obtain help for trouble by faith. Am I beaten about by the enemy? My soul on her dear Refuge leans by faith. But take faith away, then in vain I call to God. There is no other road betwixt my soul and heaven. Blockade the road, and how can I communicate with the Great King? Faith links me with divinity. Faith clothes me with the power of Jehovah. Faith in sures every attribute of God in my de fense. It helps me to defy the hosts of hell. It makes me march triumphant over the necks o f my enemies. But without faith how can I receive anything from the Lord? Oh, then, Christian, watch well thy faith. “I f thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." — Spurgeon. August 10— “For the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things o f God" (1 Cor. 2:10). There are mysteries which are quite un fathomable to everything but l o v e . Thought cannot explain them, but love can; the spirit o f love can interpret the acts of love. You want to know why the Father gives you pain; the memory of parental loye will search out that depth for you. Did you never get pain as a di- . rect gift o f parental love? Did you never receive a task when you wanted an hour of play, or sigh w i t h i n schoolhouse walls when you panted for green fields? Yet your fetters have be come your wings; your tears have made your rainbow; your prison house has led captivity captive. Spirit o f love, Thou alone canst interpret the dark places that surround Thee. In the light of Thy love, the valleys are themselves exalted; the deep things, the dark things are illumin ated by Thee.— George Matheson. — o — August 11— “I f the clouds be full o f rain, they empty themselves upon the earth" (Eccl. 11:3). The clouds are black; they lower; they shut out the sunlight; they obscure the landscape. The timid one looks up and says, “Alas, how black they are, and how they gather fold on fold! What a dark,' August 9— “Strong in faith" (Rom. 4: 20). iih;.
(Daily devotional Reading, A M e s s a g e fo r E v e ry D a g o f th e M o n th
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August 4— “ Thou hast had pity on the ■ gourd, for the which thou hast not la bored, neither madest it grow; . . . and should I not spare Nineveh?" (Jonah 4: 10 , 1 1 ) . If we find ourselves growing restive under God’s treatment, and marring by our wilfulness the sweet love-thought of us which His dear artist-hand is so pa tiently fashioning from the everyday events of our lives—if we find ourselves doing this, we' have only to return with truthful earnestness, and beg Him to ef face the stains upon us, to supply what we have lost, to perfect what we have marred; and because God is love, no less than because God is God, it shall be done. It shall be done because He de- lighteth to “perfect that which concern- eth us." And who shall say that it may not please His loving heart to transform these marred spots into peculiar, magnetic graces that shall have the power to touch other hearts and other lives more deeply? — Selected. —o— August S— "Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me" (Mark 8:34). The cross which my Lord bids mie take up and carry may assume different shapes. I may have to content myself with a lowly and narrow sphere, when I feel that I have capacities for much higher work. I may have to go on cultivating year after year, a field which seems to yield me no harvests whatsoever. I may be bidden to cherish kind and loving thoughts about someone who has wronged me—be bidden to speak to' him tenderly, and take his part against all who oppose him, and crown him with sympathy and succor. I may have to confess my Master amongst those who do not wish to be reminded o f Him and His claims. I may be called to “move among my race, and show a glorious morning face,” when my heart is break ing. There are many crosses, and every one o f them is sore and heavy. None of them is likely to be sought out by me of my own accord. But never is Jesus so near to me as when I lift my cross, and lay it submissively on my shoulder, and give it the welcome o f a patient and un murmuring spirit. He draws close, to ripen my wisdom, to deepen my peace, to increase my courage, to augment my power to be o f use to others, through the very experience which is so grievous and distressing, and then—as I read on the seal o f one o f those Scottish Covenanters whom Qaverhouse imprisoned on the lonely Bass, with the sea surging and sob bing round— I grow under the load. —Alexander Smellie. —o— August 6— "The oil of. joy for mourn ing" (Isa. 61:3). There is_ a wonderful essence that men o f the orient have extracted from the
roses o f the land of Omar Khayam and the vales of Cashmere, called the attar of roses, very precious and whose perfume is far-reaching, lasting, and powerful. Thou sands o f roses bloomed and were kissed by the sun and wafted by the breezes, while their color and beauty and delight ful odor charmed the senses o f all who beheld them; and these thousands were gathered by ruthless hands, and thrust in to darkness and were macerated and crushed to unsightly pulp, to make even the smallest quantity o f this costly per fume. Are you, dear heart, passing through Gethsemanes till you feel that you are pressed out of measure? Dry your tears and be still before God; wait a little while, and out from the presses o f pain the most wonderful oil o f joy will drop, and a perfume so exquisite will pervade your life that you will praise God forever for the “oil press.” —Lettie B. Cowman. ——o— August 7— “Sit still” (Ruth 3:18). Sit still, my child, ’tis no great thing I ask, No glorious deed, no mighty task; But just to sit and patiently abide, Wait in My pnesence, in Thy Lord con fide. But Oh! dear Lord, I long the sword to wield, Forward to go, and in the battle field To fight for Thee, Thine enemies o’er- throw, And in Thy strength to vanquish every foe. The harvest fields spread out before me lie, The reapers towards me look, and vainly cry : “The fields are white, the laborers are few; Our Lord’s command is also sent to you.” My child, it is a sweet and blessed thing To nest beneath the shadow of My wing; To feel thy doings and thy words are naught, To trust to Me each restless, longing thought. Dear Lord, help me this lesson sweet to learn; To sit at Thy pierced feet and only yearn To love Thee better, Lord, and feel that still Waiting is working, if it be Thy will. — Selected. —o— August 8— "But God forbid that I should glory, serve . in the cross o f our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world" (Gal. 6:14). George Matheson, the well-known blind preacher o f Scotland who recently went to be with the Lord, said: “My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn.
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