XXIII.

THE TRUE VINE.

JOHN XV.

A Boy and his Note-book. - Names of JESUS. The Upper Chamber and its Clustering Vine. - The Golden Vine of the Temple. The True Vine: its Branches. - Vineyards and Vineries. Some Trees useless but beautiful; fruit

The Use of the Vine.

less but useful. — The Vine nothing without Fruit. — Words from The Fruit of the True Vine. Severed the Prophet Ezekiel. Branches and their End. - Christ our Life. The Great Question. Union with Christ by Faith: Love the Crown of this Union its Continuance for evermore.

A

YOUTH once took his Bible, with pencil and paper, and tried to find out the different names that are given in that Holy Book to our Lord Jesus Christ. First he wrote down Son of God, then Son of Man, and then that sweet name, Jesus. What should he write next? Christ, Emmanuel, Redeemer, the words came crowding on his remembrance, for he was a lad who often read the Scriptures, and knew them well. At last he said to himself, "I see that Christ is everywhere. If we look to the sky, He is there, the Sun of Righteousness and the Morn

ing-star. In the pastures we are reminded that He is the Good Shepherd; in the woods, that He is the Tree of Life; and in the garden, that He is the Rose of Sharon. If we come home again, and look around upon those whom we love best, He is our dearest Friend, and "sticketh closer than a brother." Surely these names will never end! The youth made a long list; and then there came into his mind a verse from a favorite hymn, which he wrote at the end,—

"Nor earth, nor sea, nor sky, nor stars,

Nor heaven, his full resemblance bears:
His beauties we can never trace,

Till we behold Him face to face."

But every one of these names may teach us something, and most of all those which He took to Himself in the days of his earthly life. One such name is the subject of this chapter. It was taken by Jesus to himself the very last time He talked with his disciples before his death. Perhaps it was in the upper room where they had been eating their last supper together, and where a clustering vine, rooted below, had crept up and covered the window with its broad leaves and early blossoms. Perhaps it was after they had gone forth and were in the temple, where a great golden vine had been wrought by skillful men,

trailing with its broad leaves, and hanging its purple clusters all over the broad doorway. Perhaps it was in the walk to Gethsemane, where, in some garden or nook by the way-side, a vine was growing. We cannot tell how this might be, we only know that Jesus said to his disciples, in words which I wish all my readers to recollect, "I AM THE VINE, YE ARE THE BRANCHES."

You have, I dare say, seen vines growing. In warm and sunny places in our own country, many a cottage front is covered in summer-time with the broad leaves, and in autumn with the green or purple fruit. In warmer lands than ours gardens and orchards called vineyards are filled with vines, in upright rows, carefully kept low, with branches trained on each side, as you may have seen raspberry or currant bushes. Perhaps, too, you have been admitted into the glass houses, conservatories, and vineries of some rich man, where you have wondered to see how the tree springs from its low, thick trunk, and stretches its branches like great leafy arms, clinging by ten thousand tiny suckers to the glass roof, while the rich bunches hang down in such abundance and beauty, that children almost forget the commandment, "Thou shalt not covet

anything that is thy neighbor's!" In all these places, from the sunny cottage wall to the nobleman's rich vinery, the one thing that the vine is good for is to bring forth fruit; and this fruit, when it ripens in its sweetness and hangs in its abundance, is perhaps the very richest and best fruit in all the world. Everywhere people relish and enjoy it; and even sick people who can touch no other food, are able from time to time to moisten their parched lips with the refreshing juice of "just one grape." Yes, it is the favorite among fruits wherever in the world it grows. And the vine is good for nothing else; for if there are no grapes, or, if the grapes are bad and

sour, the tree is worthless.

I have a tree standing in my garden which, I am told, is a pear-tree, and from its leaves I know it ought to be one. In the spring-time it is covered with delicate white and pink blossoms; and in the autumn there appear upon it a number of little green hard round knobs, bitter to the taste, so poor that no boy was ever known to wish to steal them, and in fact so good-for-nothing that the very sparrows will not peck at them. What is the use, my readers will say, of such a pear-tree as that? Why is it not cut down and done with? The truth is, that it is such a tall,

fine, wide-spreading tree, that it is good to look at. In summer its abundance of green leaves is a pleasant sight; and especially cheerful is it to see in that part of the garden the mass of beautiful blossom in spring. So I let it stand.

Some other trees, that never even pretend to bear fruit, are more beautiful still. The birds sing among their branches, their broad shadow rests on the grass, and shelters us on many a summer afternoon. No one would find fault with the sycamore or the elm because they yield no fruit, or with the beech because its fruit is so poor, and only fit for pigs. We do not want fruit from these; we only care to admire them, or to sit under their shade. Then how useful such trees are after they are cut down and dead. What should we do without the deal from the fir-tree, the good sound timber of the oak, or the tall straight poplar-poles? One or two trees are useful in both ways, as the walnut, which gives us delicious fruit while it stands, and rich and beautiful wood when it has fallen.

But the vine is not like any of these. It is not beautiful in itself: its trunk is more like a dry withered stick than anything else. I know, indeed, that in warm countries its broad leaves and stretching boughs are sometimes trained