vine strong and vigorous; so that when in the spring it was turned back into the greenhouse it would bring forth fruit abundantly. I found his words true; a good crop the next summer proved his treatment had been right. And so, I thought, it is thus that the Heavenly Gardener has often to deal with us. We do love the warmth and sunshine of health and prosperity, but sometimes our Father “ covers the sun with a cloud," and we "go mourning without the sun," clouds and darkness are round about us," and we are cast down because of the way. But let us trust Him, trust the wisdom of the Heavenly Husbandman, and if for awhile we have to stand "before His cold," it is that thereby we may grow strong and vigorous, and bring forth more abundant fruit to His glory. The trials and sorrows of the way do but make the prospect of the home the brighter, and the ties loosened on earth often draw our affections to that Friend who has promised, "I will never leave thee."

"Now the pruning, sharp, unsparing,
Scattered blossom, bleeding shoot;
Afterward, the plenteous bearing
Of the Master's pleasant fruit.
Now, the training, strange and lowly,
Unexplained and tedious now,
Afterward, the service holy,

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A SEQUEL TO THE INVITATION COME TO JESUS."

R

ECENTLY in Yorkshire a Christian minister was gladdened by the hopeful conversion of one who, almost at "the eleventh hour," obeyed the gospel. He was the victim of that most insidious malady-consumption, and lay upon his deathbed wasted by disease, and destitute of salvation.

Upon his ears the message of Divine mercy had often fallen. "Line upon line, precept upon precept," had been addressed to him in vain. Even in the advanced stage of his illness, while the minister of the gospel was once more telling him

"The old, old story,

Of Jesus and His love,"

there was no glad response, no grateful acceptance of the truth with a believing heart.

Prayer was offered on his behalf; faithful words of counsel and exhortation were spoken; and it was evident that the dying man was deeply concerned for the safety of his soul, although exceedingly reserved in manner and reticent of speech.

In bidding him farewell the visitor, who expected to be absent for some days, promised to send a copy of the Rev. Newman Hall's little book, "Come to Jesus," on condition that it should be prayerfully read. The condition was accepted the book was duly forwarded. The reader was not again seen alive by him who sought to save his soul from death. But, ere the final summons reached the sufferer, he had believed the gospel, accepted the invitation, and "Come to Jesus."

It was affecting to hear, at his funeral, a weeping mother deliver a message from the dead-an expression of the young man's hearty thanks for the precious little book "Come to Jesus," and a testimony that, through Divine grace, the perusal of its contents had brought peace and rest to his weary soul. "Tell him," said the dying man, "that God, for Jesus Christ's sake, has saved me. He told me to come, and I have come !"

Indeed, apart from this strong and beautiful verbal testimony, there was a most touching outward indication of the inward change wrought by the Holy Spirit through this simple instrumentality.

When the corpse was being unclothed to be wrapped in

its winding-sheet and robed for the coffin, there was found, under the coverlet of the bed, closely pressed to the naked breast, and held there by the unrelaxing death-grip of rigid, bony fingers, the copy of " Come to Jesus" which had been. the word of salvation to his soul.

To the gospel invitation he had unreservedly yielded a believing response in his last hours; and having fallen asleep in Jesus with this little treasure in his hand and on his heart, there, as he had placed it, it was permitted to remain when loving hands laid his body in the dust to await a glorious resurrection.

Reader, despair not of mercy and salvation, while within reach of "the joyful sound" of gospel grace. There is hope for you in Christ. He offers you eternal life as a free gift. He bids you come to Him and be saved. It is not now too late. The invitation is this moment in your hands. The day of grace has not closed. The Holy Spirit still strives with your unyielding heart, and desires to woo you for the Saviour.

Probably many years have passed away since first you were invited. Memory can recall occasions when the invitation was urged with tender emphasis and solemn tones. You ought to have accepted it then. You wish you had done so. The more convenient season," for which you were tempted to wait, has not yet arrived.

66

Perhaps, now, the shadows of life's evening are gathering gloomily around your head, or the pains of sickness have laid hold upon you, or the icy hand of death is felt about the region of your heart, and in the near prospect of eternity you are troubled because " separate from Christ" and "having no hope." You fear lest it be too late to avail yourself of the mercy which has been so long slighted, and against which you have so grievously sinned.

Let me assure you that He who in infinite compassion says, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden," will "in no wise "2 cast you out if you now come. 1 Matt. xi. 28. 2 John vi. 37.

However oft you have been called, however long you have delayed, however much you have sinned, you need not despair of salvation. To-day, after so long a time of indifference and neglect, to-day you may come to Jesus; and assuredly if you come you will find welcome rest and eternal life.

"To-day Thy mercy calls us
To wash away our sin,
However great our trespass,
Whatever we have been ;

However long from mercy

Our hearts have turned away,
Thy precious blood can cleanse us,
And make us white To-DAY!"

But I solemnly admonish you to delay not. Defer not the acceptance of the Gospel invitation. You cannot be safe or happy until you have yielded the obedience of faith, until from the heart you can say, "God, for Jesus Christ's sake, has saved me. He told me to come, and I have come."

Remember that the sooner you come the better. The earlier, the easier. Moreover, you have present need of Jesus. All that you hope for in Him, and all that He has promised to give, of pardon, peace, purity, life, are necessary for you this moment, as desirable now as they will be at any future moment. Your opportunity is now. Your day of grace is to-day! To you life's close may come suddenly, without a note of warning. No slow corroding malady may herald the approach of the last enemy.

"Broke by sickness in a day,"

Be

you may not have an hour's space for repentance. persuaded now to lay hold of the hope set before" you. Ere it be too late, come to Jesus. He is now graciously near, waiting to welcome your trust, desiring to take posses

sion of your soul, and to enable you in the joy of full assurance to testify, "He told me to come, and I have come."

"I heard the voice of Jesus say,
'Come unto Me and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon My breast.'

I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary and worn and sad;
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad."

A. A. R.

Α'

"What think ye of Christ?"

LL ye who know the Gospel, what think ye of God's Son?
What are your meditations of Him, the Holy One?

The Lord who asked the question is asking still to-day;

What then can be your answer-oh, friends! what can you say?

"What think ye?"-is He only a man who once did right? A hero of a legend in whom your minds delight?

A conqueror in battle, a holy martyred saint?

The world's one blameless offspring made free from evil's taint?

"What think ye?"-is He only a bye-word and a name, Whom ye do sometimes mention because men do the same? A mystic airy spirit, a veilèd deity;

A being known as little as if He ceased to be?

"What think ye?"-is He only for speculation's theme? A subject for some theory, a picture for some dream?

Imagination's phantom, ideal of the brain,

A musical enchantment, a songster's glad refrain?

"What think ye?"-is He truly a Prophet, Priest, and King? One that the heav'ns worship, to whom the angels sing?

A monarch raised in glory, Jehovah great and true,
Yet one who is far distant, who nothing is to you?