THE DAY OF REST.

Mataura Ensign, 30 November 1912, Page 8

THE DAY OF REST.

(Edited by Rev. T. Paulin.)

TRUST. Not yet the bliss of perfect revelation, Not yet the gladness of a finished race, Not yet the joy of careless adoration, Not yet tin* close communion, face to face. Only for ns as Tn some olden story, God finds some cleft wherein. Ho bids us stand; And that which veils from sight the Father's Glory, Is but t'ho shadow of the Father's Hand.

So through each humiliation Faith beholds . The glory shilling 011 the threshold floor, Alld i u reverent hope till God unfolds At last —His hidden Store '

TOGETHER. "The road is rough," I said; "It is uphill all the way; No flowers, but thorns instead; And the skies'overhead are grey." But One took my hand at the entrance dim, And sweet is the road that I walk with Him. "The cross is great," I cried — "More than the back can bear, So rough and heavy and wide, And nobody by to care." But One stooped softly and touched my hand, "I know, I care, and I understand." Then why do we fret and sigh ? Cross-bearers all we go; But the.road ends by and! by In the dearest place we know, And every step of the journey we May take in God's own company.

THE HYMN AND THE CRISIS. When face to face with overwhelming catastrophe the words of a hymn have often helped men to face the inevitable with courage and strength. Countless men and women have entered Eternity repeating the 'hymn, started in Time. HYMNS THAT HAVE HELPED. It is significant that Mr W. T. Stead should have been the first man to issue a collection of hymns selected because they had helped men, to live and' die, significant because he himself was helped in the hour of death by the strains of "Nearer My God to T,hee"; the hymn that turned the tragedy of the Titanic into a heroic tradition. Mr Stead says: "Hymns have runs? in the ears of some of us while still wandering in the streets of the City of Destruction. Their melody has haunted the ear amid the murmurs of the mart and the roar of the street. In the storm and stress of life's battle the. echo of their sweet refrain has renewed our strength and dispelled our fears They have been, as it were, the voices ] of the angels of God. . . Around the hymn and the hymn tune how many associations gather from the earliest days, when, as infants, we were hushed to sleep on our mother's lap by their monotonous chant." Later Mr Stead says, in urging upon readers to bear testimony to what the J Lord has done for them: "Wanderers across the wilderness of life ought not to be chary of their telling their fellow-! travellers where they found the green oasis, the healing stream, or the shadow of a great rock in a desert land. It is not regarded as egotism when the passing steamer signals across the Atlantic wave news of her escape from perils of iceberg or fog, or welcome news of good cheer. Yet individuals shrink into themselves, repressing vigorously the fraternal instinct which bids them communicate tho fruits of their experience to their fellows. Therein they deprive themselves of a share in the communion of saints, and refuse to partake with their brothers of the sacramental cup of human sympathy, or to break the sacred bread of the deeper experiences." The hymns that have helped men, says Mr Stead, "are those which bear as it were the hallmark of heaven."

THE TRAGEDY OF THE TITANIC. In the histories of the nations, and in the histories of individuals, just as a Te Deum of praise has ascended to God for victories won or for works accomplished, so when man has realised his utter helplessness and there appears no way of escape, he has sought Divine protection and guidance in the. words of sacred poetry and in the. music of a hymn tune. The dark waters have rolled back hefore the strains of snored melody, and' in the battle of life the song of,triumph! has caught the ear and hearts become' brave and arms strong again. ' On the fateful Sunday night of April 14 the proud Titanic struck a sul>-| merged iceberg. At first little danger'

ous list of the ship showed that- the damage was serious. Women and children were got i?ito boats, and to allay any fears the little orchestra played lively airs. Wireless messages for help flashed across the sea, but soon it was apparent that help would come too lato. and' more than a thousand souls were face to face with death. Still the little band played on, though each man knew that soon the notes would be drowned in the icy waters of the Atlantic.

When all hopo was abandoned and the shadow of certain death developed the sinking ship, the band changed the air; the last inusio must bear an angel's paret to call those shrinking souls near to their God. Never was tin* unconquerable spell of a hymn to beat down death so real. To wives who bad bade farewell to husbands, floating ill boats in that hideous twilight came the strains of that glorious last post: "Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee." To dying men and bereaved women it was a. message of a new hope; it spoke of a re-union and those who were crossing the. bar saw the Pilot face to face. The hymn was written by a woman, Mrs Adams, the daughter of Mr Fowler, who met bis wife in the Newgate Prison, where he had been sent for criticising Bishop Watson, and for defending the French Revolution. This hymn has been the consolation of many besides those, who perished on the Titanic.

In the American Civil War a little drummer boy had his arm shot off, He lay dying on the battlefield of Fort Donelson, and during the thick of the fight his companions heard him singing with his latest breath "Nearer, my God, to Thee."

A Methodist related in his "experience" at a class meeting how at a period! of life, when passing through great trouble, doubts assailed! him, and an Agnostic had tried to persuade him that the trials he was enduring were no evidence of the love of God, lie was tempted to renounce the belief. "Going home that night," he said, "I heard an old woman, in abject poverty and. suffering agonies from an incurable disease, singing in quavering but joyous tones : Nearer, my God, to Thee, to Tliee; E'en though it be a cross t Tnat raiseth me; Still all my song shall be. Nearer, my God. to Thee, Nearer to Thee.

"I felt ashamed of myself," ho concluded, "and that night 1 found a new peace, and camo nearer to God and linve never doubted since."—From The Quiver.'