say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.” The beloved prophet Isaiah adds his testimony: “ For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.” (.25:4). That sounds like an atomic attack, doesn’t it? But it applies to any onslaught of our enemies. God can keep us from sin and Satan. Remember how Jeremiah was treated by the foes of the Lord be cause he told them the truth of the Word of God? He was thrown into a filthy dungeon but this is what he said: “0 Lord, my strength, and my fortress, and my refuge in the day of affliction” (16:19). In the New Testament is this glor ious verse: “We . . . have a strong consolation who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us; which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast” (Heb. 6:18-19). The word “ shelter” itself occurs only twice in the Bible and one of these times is in the Psalms: “ For Thou hast, been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy” (61:- 3). Aren’t you glad Christ is your shelter? I wish everyone in Amer ica had a fall-out shelter like my friend’s but only a few have the fore sight and the funds for this, but there is no reason why any girl or boy, man or woman, cannot come to Christ and be sheltered in His love, know Him as Saviour, and be with Him in the permanent shelter of Hea ven as our Home forever and forever, when He calls for us. How thankful we should be at this Thanksgiving season for this wonderful provision! A lovely old hymn tells this truth in these verses: The Lord’s our Rock, in Him we hide: A shelter in the time of storm! Secure, whatever ill betide: A shelter in the time of storm! A shade by day, defense by night: A shelter in the time of storm! No fears alarm, no foes affright: A shelter in the time of storm! The raging storms may round us beat: A shelter in the time of storm! We’ll never leave our safe retreat, A shelter in the time of storm! 0 Rock Divine, 0 Refuge dear: A shelter in the time of storm! Be Thou our helper ever near, A shelter in the time of storm!
snake stories
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by Elijah Bingham
the boy with the forked stick jubilant ly pinned the offender to the wall. But the silly boy was gleefully look ing down at the snake, and the snake let him have it! A direct shot of venom right in the eyes. However, they killed the snake. But on our side of the battle there were three casualties — two women and a boy — nursing their eyes under the shady kapok tree! And that venom in a short time would gravely injure their sight. What did we do? Well, we needed some medicine and guess where we found it? In the kit chen. Milk! You see, milk is an anti dote (that big word means “ remedy against” ) for the poison of the spit ting cobra, and put into their injured eyes in time they soon recovered their sight. Which reminds me of Peter, who tells every boy and girl who loves the Lord Jesus, “ As newborn babes desire the sincere milk of the Word, that ye may grow thereby” (I Peter 2:2). And Jesus, you know, said to His disciples, “ You are clean through the Word which I have spoken unto you” (John 15:3). If the milk reminds us of God’s Word, who is the snake? Yes, Satan, whom the Bible calls the Old Serpent. Think of all the boys and girls in Af rica whom he has spiritually blinded to the things of God! You can have a part in opening their eyes if you pray for the mission aries who go in the name of Jesus to fight that Old Serpent, and some day He may send you! From the book "Snake Stories from Africa" 20 pages, 10c from SIM offices.
M a s t e r ! Come quickly! A snake has got Christiana!” I rushed out of the mission house; sure enough, it had “ got” her. Our African house mother was sitting un der a tree, her hand over her eyes. Before I could gather the facts from her, another woman was led along, moaning, and also holding her eyes. It so happened that Christiana had been sweeping her room with a short straw broom when she unknowingly tickled a spitting cobra. The big grey snake, awakened from its sleep, spit venom with deadly accuracy in the eyes of the bending woman. Her cries had brought her friend to investigate, with the same result. News soon got around, and men and boys (far more than necessary) armed with sticks and terribly excited, declared war on the cobra. Entering the hut, they thumped and yelled and got in one another’s way, generally. The wily old snake saw himself outnumbered and slid swiftly towards his hole in the wall. Some of the boys lunged at him with their sticks, but he got away. One boy prodded into the hole, with no success. “ No use,” he cried, “He is too deep in.” Then he had an idea. “ I say what! One of you go outside and make a hole in the other side of the wall. When he sees the light he’ll try to make a get-away.” The hole was made and a boy waited outside with a forked stick, while another fellow worried the snake from inside the hut. The plan worked well—'but for one thing. The snake, making for the light, pushed his head through the outside hole, and
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