« PrécédentContinuer »
The holy martyrs shed their blood,
And like to Him would intercede.
For foes who tortur'd them to death.
Dark clouds again hang o'er the land,
Yes, the dread foe again appears,
Bold, crafty, strong, he rules by sin, Who claims to be Christ's vicar here, Though not the least to Christ akin. Rule, mighty Lord, maintain Thy right, And teach Thy people how to fight.
Britons, awake, arise, arise!
Defend the cause of God and truth, From Jesuitcraft and popish lies.
Guard and preserve our growing youth. Rule, mighty Lord, maintain the right, And teach Thy people how to fight.
Arm'd with His might, you must prevail;
Britons, advance, defy the foe;
Arm'd with God's word, above all price,
Their vain traditions all are lies.
And sound His praise from shore to shore.
Christ never leaves whom once He's loved.
Shall see and own the Saviour God,
ALL that come to Christ are taught of God to abandon their former ways and companions in sin. As ever they expect to be received unto mercy, companions in sin who were once the delight of their lives must now be cast off.-Flavel.
EDITOR'S ADDRESS TO HIS YOUNG
MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-On this first morning of the bright and flowery month of May, the GLEANER knocks at your door, and asks you to take in and untie his bundle. He wishes you abundant rational happiness, and the possession of all necessary good in this life, and still seeks to benefit you, and does not wish to cast an unnecessary gloom into your youthful path; but as he wishes for you happiness that will last for ever, solid joy and lasting treasure," he must speak to you of your immortal souls. His great concern is to be a blessing to the souls of the young. The Lord has used him in this way, and he still longs to be much more useful. May his praying readers be led often to pray for a blessing upon the truths he seeks to spread. The Lord does hear prayer. I have lately had a striking proof of this. After preaching in London on the morning of the 5th of April a sermon which appears in the Sower for this month, an aged Christian woman entered the vestry, and said, "There is a young girl lodging in the same house I do who is exceedingly ill, and very anxious about her soul; she wants some one to go and pray by her." I answered, "I will go; " and immediately
went. The moment I entered the room I saw the case was one of a very low type of typhus fever. I felt for a moment startled at the thought that I was breathing an atmosphere thick with the darts of disease and death; but I felt, God has permitted me thus unquestioningly to enter this room; and the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation. As the poor sufferer is quite sensible, I will announce the Gospel in as few words as possible.”
I did so, declaring in substance there is salvation in none but Jesus; that a soul must be washed in the blood of Jesus, or it never could enter heaven; that Jesus has invited the weary and heavy laden to come to him, and has promised to give rest to those who come, and in no wise to cast them out. She listened with much anxiety, and seemed quite conscious that she was in an unsaved state. I asked if I should pray for her. She said, "Yes, that is what I want you to do;" or words to that effect. I fell upon my knees and besought the Lord not to take her away in her sins; to give her true repentance and living faith in Jesus; to lead her to the cross of Christ, and wash her in His precious blood, and clothe her in Jesus' righteousness, &c. At the end she said I had asked for just what she wanted. I left her. The next night she died: and one of the last things she said was, Give my love to Mr. -, and tell him the whole of his prayer is answered. I have found Jesus, and I am going to him." Her end, though most painful, was most peaceful and blessed. I trust she has obtained mercy. How constantly are we called to walk amongst the dying and the dead.
A few hours since I stood between "the king of terrors and "the house appointed for all living." I stood looking into a coffin which contained the marble-like corpse of one I knew when a little boy, and one whom I visited on his dyingbed; who was, I believe, a brand plucked from the burning. I need not here relate his case, as that will be found (D.V.) in a funeral sermon in the June number of the Sower. My thoughts after the solemn scene turn to my numerous young readers, and prompt me to speak to them of the solemnities of a dying bed. Dear young
gleaners, there is an awful gleaner abroad that has been gleaning over the whole earth ever since he gleaned the bleeding body of the murdered Abel. What millions on millions since then has he gleaned to his dusty garner, the gloomy grave; and who can tell which amongst my numerous readers may be the next to fill his icy hand? Reader, you must die! It is heaven's decree. "It is appointed unto men once to die." And oh, pause and think what follows death! Either the high joys of a heaven of bliss, or the deep horrors of a hell of endless agony. Oh, consider, youthful reader, consider your latter end, and say to your own soul, "My soul, there is a dreadful hell, a lake that burneth with fire and brimstone, into which thou must be cast if thy sins and thee never part at Calvary: but, my soul, there is a heaven of boundless blessedness; and if, ere death comes, thou art led a penitent to cast thyself believingly at the foot of the cross, and there by faith get that bond dissolved that binds thee to thy sinsif by the motives that the cross supplies thou art led to take the Redeemer's yoke upon thee-thy dying-day will be the day on which thy bloodwashed soul has reached the threshold of the palace of bliss." Oh, reader, I wish you well for this world, and trust the GLEANER'S moral lessons will not be lost upon you. Truthfulness, sobriety, honesty, and industry, these are excellencies, most valuable for time; this is coin for which you may purchase in this life respect and success, and an honourable passage to the tomb; but another coin, the coin that free grace and dying love alone can furnish, will free your soul from endless woe, and give you entrance to endless bliss.
Graceless one, it will ever be Satan's business