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The half of all Thy love was never shown ;
But we shall know Thee then “as we are known,"
And through eternal ages Thee adore,
O Father, Son and Spirit, evermore !

Y. E. T.

" So the Wall was finished.” URELY any uninspired historian of Nehemiah's work

would have written, “Nevertheless, the wall was finished "-finished in spite of the hindrances so

great and so many which had from the very outset attended its building. Had not the patriot-leader of the enterprise, after receiving in Babylon the sad tidings, “ The wall of Jerusalem is broken down," spent months in anxiety, watching, and prayer, before he dared to ask his royal master so unlikely a boon as long leave of absence ? Then, with the beginning of the wall-building had begun the scorn and mockery of the powerful Sanballat and his companions, changing soon into fierce wrath and violence, so that half the workmen had to stand to arms, while the rest could only build with a sword at their side, and a weapon in one hand while they wrought with the other, and the overseers kept watch day and night. Then, saddest of all, there arose disputings among themselves; next, crafty offers of friendship from their foes. These repulsed, there came threatenings and false accusations, “making us all afraid," says the simple story; followed by the temptation that Nehemiah should deny his God by resort to unlawful, ungodly means of self-protection. Finally, alliance was formed between those on whom he had most relied, and his most bitter foes.

“ So the wall was finished." Are we not reminded, as by a parable, of another finished work, the greatest ever wrought on earth-the building of that wall whose name is Salvation, and its gates Praise ? Truly it was through trials, conflicts, hindrances, feebly typified in the story

from his regiment, and he had been speaking to his father of the joy and strength which the salvation and companionship of Jesus can put into a soldier's life amidst its physical dangers and moral perils. The face of the younger man was radiant as he spoke, but no brightness rested on the strong handsome features of his aged companion.

“Ah, Bob," he said at length, "you are a happy fellow ! What would I not give if I could feel as you do, that the Lord Jesus is my personal Saviour ! but I cannot, my boy, I cannot."

“ You may not feel it, father, but you believe it, do you not?” his son gently asked.

“I believe everything in a general kind of way, of course, Bob, but I get no comfort from it, for I cannot see that the Lord died for me personally."

The son paused a moment; he thought of his father's beautiful life, so blameless in the eyes of his fellow-men, but he could not bid him take comfort from this, except so far as it was an evidence of the soul's union to Him in whom alone we have righteousness and strength. He longed that the life of this beloved parent might have an “eventide light," with joy in God through the Lord Jesus Christ, and in that brief interval of silence an earnest prayer went up to heaven that he might be permitted to teach him the way of simple faith more perfectly.

“Do you not believe, dear father," he asked, "that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners ?”

Yes, I do."
“And are you a sinner in the sight of God?”

“I am indeed," the old general answered; "it needs no effort on my part to believe that, Bob.”

“Very well, then, father, Jesus Christ must have died for you, unless there was an exception made by the Almighty God in your case, and it was decreed that when Jesus Christ came into this world to die for sinners General R- was excepted."

There was perfect silence for a few moments, and then

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the old gentleman said earnestly, “Will you repeat that again, my dear boy?"

Gravely and slowly the son went over the argument: “You say, father, that you believe Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners; you say you are a sinner; therefore Jesus Christ came to die for you, unless God has decreed that His blessed Son should die to make an atonement for sinners with the exception of General R-"

Again a pause ; the birds outside singing, and the sun shining, Colonel R-sitting by his father's side, praying that the Sun of Righteousness might arise with healing in His wings, the old man pondering with absorbed attention the simple words. Suddenly a lovely smile stole over the aged countenance, and a look of peace such as his son had never seen there before was in his eyes, as he raised them to his face.

I see now! yes, I see it now! The Lord Jesus Christ came into this world and died for sinners; I am a sinner, therefore He died for me, unless I can prove that I am excepted.” This he repeated several times with increasing confidence and exultation, only pausing to listen as his son solemnly added, “ Yes, God will never punish, for there is no condemnation for you, because Jesus Christ has died and atoned for your sins.”

Soon afterwards Colonel R- went out with his regiment on foreign service. The dear old disciple was left in the home from which, years ago, his beloved wife had gone to the City of the Great King. But he was never lonely now. He was possessor of a joy which no man could take from him, and he exulted over his treasure, and pointed it out to all the friends who loved to visit him, with almost childlike ingenuousness and glee. “I am so happy now," he would say ; “my mind is full of peace. My son Bob has told me more than I ever before understood; when I was doubting he put the truth before me in this way: ‘Christ died for sinners; you are a sinner; then He must have died for you, unless your name is excepted.' Now, could anything be plainer than that? The Holy Spirit applied that reasoning to my heart, and I have been rejoicing ever since.”

My readers will agree with me that this was a true cause of rejoicing. Old age is sometimes prone-as the senses lose their sharpness and the powers of imagination and intellect become dull—to value inordinately the material possessions with which it is surrounded, and few things are more profoundly affecting than the sight of an immortal being, trembling on the brink of eternity, and yet with no other riches than the things of time, which must so soon be left behind.

It was a case of this kind that brought out the memorable reply of a great moralist when a rich old man took him into his magnificent pleasure-grounds, and, pointing to the signs of wealth and luxury that were all around, asked, in a voice quavering with excitement, “What more could I wish ?" “Permanence,” was the wise man's faithful rebuke and warning. It was this permanence that gave General R-'s happiness its true value. All who had the pleasure of knowing him in the closing years of his life, testified to his absent son of their remarkable brightness. Even when his eyes waxed dim, and at length failed altogether, the outward darkness was illuminated by the sunshine that filled the old man's heart. “Quite happy!" was his unvarying testimony, until the shadows of earth passed away, and the darkened eyes were opened in heaven to see the King in His beauty. What more can I wish for my readers, whether old or young, than that such an assured hope, and such true riches, and such a bright sunset, may be theirs ?

M. C. F.

And there is one, no friend is he,
But years has been my enemy ;
Much wrong I've suffered at his hand ;
But, as before my God I stand,
No angry thoughts my bosom move,
But pitying, sorrowing, yearning love.
If in that love a merit lies,
"Jesus, 'tis Thine," my full heart cries.

E. S. H.

" J great Multitude which no man could


HE great multitude. Yes, it was sometimes a

dreary thought to me, that great unnumbered throng, that crowd which no man could number;

and I one amongst the countless host. I felt a sense of loneliness, of being lost amongst them; but God taught me better.

I was driving out one day in the country, and in a narrow part of the wood met a very large flock of sheep; we had to draw aside, and wait to let them pass; while waiting we entered into conversation with the shepherd, and I remarked, "What a large flock of sheep, and they all look to me just alike.” The shepherd turned upon me a look almost of pitying contempt as he replied, “Alike, ma'am! Why, there isn't any two of 'em a bit alike. I knows every one of them apart, just as well as I know my own children; and if there's one of 'em a bit poorly, I venture to say I should see it in a minute when I looked at 'em in the morning.” We drove on, and I began to think, “Oh, that is just it. The multitude, all alike to me, with no distinctiveness, but to the Shepherd's eye, every one with its separate interests, each one different, all, and yet each by himself, the special object of the Shepherd's care.

I came home and found the verse which tells of the Good Shepherd, who calls “His own sheep by name,” yes, each one in that



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