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APPLES OF GOLD IN PICTURES OF SILUER.

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures (or baskets) of silver.”—Prov. xxv. 11.

IVE me fit words, O Jesu

To tell the old, old tale,
That has been told so often

To some it seemeth stale :
Some words that shall add freshness

To this so hoar and old,
Some gilt that shall add glitter

To this pure virgin gold.

A word that's fitly spoken

May catch a careless ear;
And midst the rumble of the world,

In accents low and clear,
May rouse a torpid conscience,

And melt a stony heart,
And from an eye unused to weep

May make the tear-drops start.

Thou spakest as none other

Ere spake or preached before;
Then on Thy waiting servant

Thy Holy Spirit pour :
That he may use such accents

The old, old tale to tell
That in some human sepulchre

They ring like silver bell;

And speak of Calvary's mercy,

And Sinai's sin and wrath,
And cry as Thou Thyself didst cry

To Lazarus, “ Come forth !”
That, casting off their wrappings,

Those who are dead in sin
May live while here a holier life,

And life eternal win.

Thus, touch my tongue, O Jesu !

With Thy all-saving fire,
And for the highest purposes

Tune Thon my feeble lyre;
Then as in silver pictures

Glow apples all of gold,
So shall Thy love, O Jesu !

In fitting words be told.

CIE WTYKARING QAn.

"..... It is ihe voice of my Beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to Me, My sister, My love, My dove, My undefiled : for My head is filled with dew, and My locks with the drops of the night." . . . . . SONG OF SOL. v. 2.

O the Hope of Israel, the Saviour thereof in time of trouble, why shouldest Thou be as a stranger in the land, and as a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night ? . . . . . . . . . . JER. XIV. 8.

Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rev. III. 20.

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THE WAYFARING MAN.

Open the door, beloved;

My head with dew is filled, My locks with droppings of the night

For thee My blood was spilled. For many a year I've waited,

And longed to enter in; And still I stand, belated,

While thou liv'st on in sin.

And thou art all anheeding,

And hast no smile to greet, And carest not that bleeding

Are My tender, toil-worn feet; For the way is long and dreary,

And My head and limbs are aching, And I'm waiting sad and weary,

And My loving heart is breaking.

Thy mirth and midnight revels,

And thy loud, unseemly shout, Make glad the heart of devils

While thy Lover stands without!
Hast thou indeed no pity ?

Wilt thou never, love, relent?
Is thy breast devoid of tenderness ?

Wilt thou never, love, repent ?

Oh! by the years I've waited

Oh! by the tears I've shedOh! by the wrath o'erwhelming

Poured on My stricken head : Oh! by My cross and passion

My wrestlings with sinBelov'd one, have compassion,

And let the Traveller in !

-[0, man by time grey-headed,

Or in the prime of life, Bereaved or newly wedded,

Son, daughter, husband, wife, Or little one of tender years,

Thy life stretched out beforeCHRIST IS THE WEARY WAYFARER,

THY HEART THE CLOSE-BARRED DOOR!]

Thou canst not ope that door, love,

BUT ON THY BENDED KNEES :
Then thy heart in prayer outpour, love,

The present moment seize : .
And when in earnest prayer, love,

The door flies open wide,
The Heavenly Bridegroom shall come in

And clasp His purchased bride.

KUN, SPEAK TO THIS YOURG NAR.

And, behold, the angel that talked with me went forth, and another angel went out to meet him, and said unto him, Run, speak to this young man.. . . . . . . . . . ; . . . . Zech. ii. 3, 4.

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umumn Immunione UN, speak to this young man who careless standeth

Upon the threshold of life's open door,
Whom wisdom's voicethe voice of God, commandeth,

“Pause, and tread solemnly that hallowed floor :

Before thee, though thou viewest but the portals,

There is the antrod vestibule of TIME;
Beyond—the unknown temple where immortals

Exist in torment, or in glory shine.

That temple is ETERNITY-unbounded-
· Unlimited its cycles, breadth, and height,
That solemn ocean shoreless and unsounded,

That shadeless brilliance or that dawnless night!”

Run, speak to this young man in tones of thunder

Of an offended God and broken Law :
Thy words may burst the sinful bands asunder-

The icy fetters may begin to thaw.

And speak to this young man in tones appealing,

His conscience, though long dormant, is not dead;
Nor is his heart beyond all sense of feeling,

Although to wild and vicious courses wed.

But speak thou not the less with words of kindness,

He thinks himself than thee more right and wise ;
Thy gentleness may help remove his blindness,

And clear the mist from his dim-sighted eyes.

He stands in pride of early manhood's vigour

With active brain and hand, and fearless heart,
Oh! urge him that by holiness and rigour,

He choose through life the nobler, better part:

The nobler, better part of life for Jesus,

For Him whose life was spent in doing good,
But who from Sinai's terrors to release us,

Was put to death upon a cross of wood.

That in the quiet of his chamber bending,

That young man consecrate himself to God;
Then through this life to that blest life unending

In love and meekness tread where Jesus trod.

See Note L, page 93.

BEKOLD, I HATE PLAYED THE FOOL.

“..... I will no more do thee harm, because my soul was precious in thine eyes this day: behold, I have played the fool, and have erred exceedingly.

. . . . . . . 1 Sam. xxvi. 21.

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vosadioero HEN play the fool no longer! cease thy folly,

8 Wake from thy madness ere it be too late ;
1 ? Yet waste no time in idle melancholy,
The But steadfastly bewail thine awful state.

Poocook

And having anxiously with solemn musing,

Mourned deeply o'er thy past career of sin;
Let not this hour go by without thy choosing

To ope thine heart and let the Saviour in.

So long with love unwearied He has waited,

The time may come when He will wait no more;
Ere yet His tender mercy be abated,

Haste thee and open wide the close-barr'd door.

If thou hast played the fool, hast thou reflected

How many with thyself have done the same-
By thine example poisoned and infected,

They sinful, but thyself the most to blame:

Thou the foul tempter of the man or maiden,

Allured by thee to their destruction dire,
Hast added burdens to the heavy-laden,

And kindled in their breasts infernal fire.

Their sins go on while time shall last unending

Through all the generations yet to come,
And with thine own transgressions their's are blending,

Making together one most awful sum.

Thy years of youth are past or now are speeding :

The prime of life has come or is at hand !
Wilt thou e'en now continue all unheeding,

While through life's hourglass slips the golden sand ?

O, play the fool no longer: cease to trifle;

Thy time for reformation may be brief;
No longer, man! the voice of conscience stifle

Or through eternity may last thy grief.

RIGHT THROUGH ETERNITY—thy soul's damnation !

No time for penitence beyond the grave,!
Fall on thy knees and cry for soul salvation-

Cry anto Christ—the Mighty One to save!

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