THE GARLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3419, 26 September 1919, Page 60

THE GARLAND.

FOR THE QUIET HOUR. No. 317. By Duncan Wright, Dunedin. CHEERY WORDS FOR THE OLD FOLK. HOMEWARD BOUNDI (By Rev. M. L. Hafford.) Homeward bound] We seek a rest,A homo above, Among the blest. Homeward bound! We sweetly glide, With prosperous winds, And swelling tider Nearer home! Each passing day, We find; ourselves Upon our way. Nearer home! And now so near, Its song of rapture , Reach mine ear. 1 Homo at last! One moment more, Our feet shall touch The shining shore. Home at last! At home above! When life is life, And love is love. "An aged B man finds his type in the wrinkled, faded leaf which trembles in the breeze, ready to fall to Mother Earth. Conscious of failing strength and of approaching inability to carry the burden of life, his anxious heart cries out with David, 'Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth.' Nor does he, if a believer in Christ, sigh this prayer in vain. The voice of the Eternal One responds with more than royal graciousness : 'Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you.' This is consolation indeed! Carried, in the arms of the* great I AM, the aged man is safe, inexpressibly secure. He may feel as did the venerable Longfellow, who, in his 'Morituri Salumatus,' has said : Old age is still old age; It is the waning, not the crested moon; The dusk of evening, not the blaze of noon; It is not strength, but weakness; not desire, But its surcease; not the fierce heat of fire, The burning and consuming element, But that of ashes and of embers spent, ! In which some living sparks we still disoerr Enough to warm, but not enough to burn. He may, he does, feel thus. Nevertheless, he does not yield to discouragement, nor count himself a fruitless tree. He knows that the Infinite One who carries him has said of such as he, 'They shall stilL-bring forth fruit in old age.' Hence he counts his age an opportunity to exhibit the maturity of faith, the beauty of perfect love, the power of divine grace to keep a soul burdened with the weight of years happy even in its weakness. And as the evening twilight fades away Hia sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. Happy, therefore, is Christian old age! And when an old man's body falls, he himself ascends to .heaven to be greeted as a child newly born into the glorious life." 6 LIFE'S SUNSET. (By Mrs S. C. Wilkinson.) Waiting for dawn, watching for morn, The rising sun I see; But short the light, and 10, 'tis night— Ah me! Ah me! Another day, loitering I stray; Where pleasure tempting lies. "A futile chase" its flight I trace; It flies! It flies! With new desire I now aspire To find the '"King's highway"— A way so- light it scatters night For aye I For aye! And at the end there stands a Friend To welcome pilgrims home. "Jesus," I sing, Jesus my King, I come! I come!

"How beautiful is Bunyan's description of the aged Christian in the land of Beulah.

"Here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice 01 the turtle in the land. In the country the sun shineth night and day. „ Here they were within sight of the city they were going to; also they met some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the shining ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of heaven. In this land, also, the contract between the bride and the bridegroom was renewed. Yea, here, as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so doth their God rejoiceth over them.' "

"Aged Christians should be happy, and we believe that most of them are. But they can be useful as well as happy. They can exert a quiet yet mighty influence, even in the sick room. Examples of patient suffering, of sweet acquiescence in the will of God, are more eloquent than sermons, and many an active, useful Christian has, like Samson, accomplished more in his death than in his life. Don't, therefore, let the feeble and bedridden complain. Perhaps he is slrat up that he may work more efficiently for Christ. He can make that sick-room a lighthouse, guiding doubting or erring souls to the Saviour. He may offer up prayers there that shall bring down the richest blessings upon his household, upon the Church, and upon the world."

BISHOP BUTLER. A mighty prelate on his death bed lay Revolving the dread themes of life and death. And; their tremendous issues with dismay, His marvellous powers nigh quenched: "My Lord," one saith, "Hast Thou forgotten how One came to be ' A Saviour?" "Nay," the Bishop made reply, "How know I He's a ISaviour unto me?" The chaplain paused, then answered thoughtfully, "Lo, him that cometh unto Me," Christ said, "I will in no wise cast out"; need we more? The Bishop slowly raised his dying head; "I've read a thousand times that Scripture o'er, Nor felt its truth till now I near the tomb, It is enough! O mighty Christ, I come. "ROCK OF AGES." "When this well-known and lovely hymn was composed, Toplady felt that he was losing hold upon life, and his feet as though, already standing on the celestial height. Some two years afterwards, he was yet but 38 years of age, the full time of his departure came, and he found the prayer in the last stanza of his hymn fully and sweetly answered in the revelation of Divine love to his waiting soul; he seemed to be walking in the very land of Beulah, to hear the tuning of heavenly harps, and the immortal airs, and by faith to undertsand all that John the beloved disciple has described. "As Toplady drew near his end, his medical adviser said to him, 'Your pulse is growing weaker.' 'A good sign,' he replied, 'that my end is drawing nigh, and my heart is beating every moment stronger for glory.' Tears of joy filled his eyes as he neared the goal, visions of Paradise seemed to flit before his mind, and he exclaimed, 'I know it will not be long before God takes me, for no mortal man can live and see what I have seen. Oh, such glories !' " Another of his hymns, written during his last illness, and which fully illustrates his consolations, confidence,, and hope, was that commencing : When langour and disease invade This trembling house of clay, 'Tis sweet to look beyond' my cage And long to fly away. And still another not often found in the hymn-book is : A debtor to mercy alone, Of covenant mercy I sing'; Nor fear, with Thy righteousness on.. My person and offering to bring. The work which His goodness began, The arm of .His strength will complete, His promise is Yea and Amen, And never was forfeited yet. My name from the palms of His bauds Eternity cannot erase; Impressed on His heart it remains In marks of indelible grace. TRUST CHRIST FOR ALL. (By Rev. C. H. Spurgeoh.) "Oh," says one "I hardly like to trust Christ to carry all my burden. It seems like presumption to take .all our minor cares to the great Lord." I heard of a man who was walking along the high road with a pack on his back; he was growing weary, and was, therefore, glad when a gentleman came along in a chaise and asked him to take a seat with him. The gentleman noticed that the man kept hi 3 pack strapped to his shoulders, and so he said, "Why do you not lay down your pack?" "Why, sir," said the traveller, "I did not venture to intrude. It was very good of you to take me up, and I could not expect you to carry my burden as well." "Why," said his friend, "do you not see that whether your pack is on your back or off your back, I have to carry it?" It is so with your trouble.*' Whether you care or do not care, it is the°Lord who must care for you. First trust the Lord with your souls, and then trust Him with everything else. First surrender yourself to His love, to be saved by His infinite compassion, and then bring all your burdens and cares and troubles and lay them down at His feet, and go and live a happy, joyful life, saying : • All that remains for me Is but to love and sing, And wait until tho angels come To bear me to my King. . THE LAND BEYOND THE SEA. (By F. W. Faber.) The landl beyond the sea! Sometimes across the strait Like a draw bridge to a castle gate, f The slanting sunbeams lie, and seem to wait For us to pass to thee, / Calm land beyond the sea! The land! beyond the sea! When will our toil be done? Slow footed years! more swiftly run Into the gold of that unsetting sun! Home sick we are for thee, s Calm land beyond the sea! The land! bevond the sea! Why fadest thou in light? Why art thou better seen towards night? Dea,r land! look always plain, look always bright," That we may gaze on thee, Calm land beyond the sea!