Tell them of Jesus. Tell them so often, so simply that they cannot misunderstand. Tell them earnestly and lovingly, too. Let your own hearts speak. Tell them what you have found Him to be. Tell them how the same Friend, the same Saviour may be theirs. There will come a time when in sorrow and loneliness they weep because there is none to pity and none to help, a time that shall make them grow rapidly old and worn because of suffering, a time when for them there is no light or gladness anywhere, nothing but darkness, and dread, and despair. Tell them of Jesus now that they may remember Him then, and turn to Him who says, "Come unto Me; him that cometh I will in no wise cast out." Let them know Him as the "Light of the world," and the hope of all who trust in Him.

Tell them of Jesus. They have sad sights to see those who are now so blithe and gay. They will watch the light fade from faces that they would fain have hidden from the destroyer. They will stand at the open grave, and see forms that were unutterably dear to them put down into the narrow bed, while upon their shrinking ears fall the words, sadder than any funeral knell, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Oh, lest their hearts should break with sorrow, tell them of Him who says, "I am the Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth on Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."

There will come to them a season more solemn than all the others, when all the things that they have been used to will become indistinct, and pass away, and they will be summoned to meet the eternal; when they will stand on the shore of the river of death, and hear the roll of the dark waters, and feel a power urging them on, while they cannot see whither they are going. What will they do then if you have not told them about Jesus? How they will start back and shudder and lift up helpless hands in vain if they do not know the Saviour! But if they know Him and love Him they will not be afraid to die. They will stretch out their eager arms to Him, and cry even with the last breath, Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly."

66

Tell them of Jesus. Who should if you do not? You

were weary, and He gave you rest. You were heavy laden and He took your burden. You were thirsty, and He gave you the water of life. You were lonely, and He came to you, and loved you, and was your friend.

us.

Unreasonableness.

Most

THERE have always been unreasonable people in the world. We have them to-day, as our fathers had before Indeed, it may be that we are all more or less unreasonable, if not in one respect then in another. of all are we so in our wishes. It is quite wonderful how each wishes to appropriate to himself all the good things he can get, and how earnestly he desires and even prays for many things which if he were reasonable he would know he cannot have.

No

Of course there have been people before us who have done the same. "And James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came unto Him, saying, Master, we would that Thou shouldst do for us whatsoever we shall desire." doubt! Plenty of people feel the same, though some are a little more modest in their speech! If persons said these words now, in the presence of many others, what polite raising of well-bred eyebrows there would be among the listeners! James and John must be hardened indeed if they would dare to say such a thing in this present year of courtesy and refinement. For true etiquette prefers others before itself, and is not anxious for the best places and the most enjoyable things.

Only we must remember that this most unreasonable request was spoken to the Master. "And when the ten heard it, they began to be much displeased with James and John." They saw the indelicacy and the unreasonableness of the spirit which their brethren exhibited. But the patient, tender Saviour knew how to rebuke lovingly, and so teach without wounding. And though the disciples were justly indignant, He was, as ever, merciful even to their faults.

Tell them of Jesus. Tell them so often, so simply that they cannot misunderstand. Tell them earnestly and lovingly, too. Let your own hearts speak. Tell them what you have found Him to be. Tell them how the same Friend, the same Saviour may be theirs. There will come a time when in sorrow and loneliness they weep because there is none to pity and none to help, a time that shall make them grow rapidly old and worn because of suffering, a time when for them there is no light or gladness anywhere, nothing but darkness, and dread, and despair. Tell them of Jesus now that they may remember Him then, and turn to Him who says, Come unto Me; him that cometh I will in no wise cast out." Let them know Him as the "Light of the world," and the hope of all who trust in Him.

66

Tell them of Jesus. They have sad sights to see those who are now so blithe and gay. They will watch the light fade from faces that they would fain have hidden from the destroyer. They will stand at the open grave, and see forms that were unutterably dear to them put down into the narrow bed, while upon their shrinking ears fall the words, sadder than any funeral knell, "Ashes to ashes,

dust to dust."

Oh, lest their hearts should break with sorrow, tell them of Him who says, "I am the Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth on Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."

There will come to them a season more solemn than all the others, when all the things that they have been used to will become indistinct, and pass away, and they will be summoned to meet the eternal; when they will stand on the shore of the river of death, and hear the roll of the dark waters, and feel a power urging them on, while they cannot see whither they are going. What will they do then if you have not told them about Jesus? How they will start back and shudder and lift up helpless hands in vain if they do not know the Saviour! But if they know Him and love Him they will not be afraid to die. They will stretch out their eager arms to Him, and even with the last breath, 'Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly."

""

cry

Tell them of Jesus. Who should if you do not? You

were weary, and He gave you rest. You were heavy laden and He took your burden. You were thirsty, and He gave you the water of life. You were lonely, and He came to you, and loved you, and was your friend.

Unreasonableness.

Most

THERE have always been unreasonable people in the world. We have them to-day, as our fathers had before us. Indeed, it may be that we are all more or less unreasonable, if not in one respect then in another. of all are we so in our wishes. It is quite wonderful how each wishes to appropriate to himself all the good things he can get, and how earnestly he desires and even prays for many things which if he were reasonable he would know he cannot have.

No

Of course there have been people before us who have done the same. "And James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came unto Him, saying, Master, we would that Thou shouldst do for us whatsoever we shall desire." doubt! Plenty of people feel the same, though some are a little more modest in their speech! If persons said these words now, in the presence of many others, what polite raising of well-bred eyebrows there would be among the listeners! James and John must be hardened indeed if they would dare to say such a thing in this present year of courtesy and refinement. For true etiquette prefers others before itself, and is not anxious for the best places and the most enjoyable things.

Only we must remember that this most unreasonable request was spoken to the Master. 'And when the ten heard it, they began to be much displeased with James and John." They saw the indelicacy and the unreasonableness of the spirit which their brethren exhibited. But the patient, tender Saviour knew how to rebuke lovingly, and so teach without wounding. And though the disciples were justly indignant, He was, as ever, merciful even to their faults.

But, though we naturally side with the ten, are there no times when we are just as unreasonable as the two? Is it not the fact that in our private prayers, heard by no ears but our Master's, we silently make requests that we should be ashamed to offer publicly? Do we never preface our prayers with some such great demand as "We would that Thou shouldst do for us whatsoever we shall desire"? Are we not utterly selfish in our demands? Do we never ask -not only for best places, but best everything else? For ourselves and friends, is anything too good in our opinion? Are there not whispered prayers which steal up to heaven as if they had no business there because our own hearts condemn us?

It is well for us that our Father is as wise as He is loving. He knows what to give and what to withhold. And though we feel that it must be pleasing to Him to hear His children cry, it must be good indeed for us that He does not always give what we ask for. Why should we have all the best of everything? Do not others deserve and need it more than we? He takes all the arrangement of our lives in His hands, and though He often says, "Ye know not what ye ask," we can but feel that whether He gives or denies He deals with infinite tenderness where His children are concerned. We do not live many years before, in the fresh light that gathers about us as we grow older, we see with what foolish petitions we have besieged His throne. And one of the things for which we should praise Him now, and certainly shall praise Him when we reach home, and are full-grown and wise, is that He has not given us all we asked for. "Ye ask and receive not because ye ask amiss." Whenever He says this to us our hearts should go out to Him in greater love and trust than ever.

We have learnt that it is not safe to ask for everything we think we want, but we have never yet learnt that this prayer is unsafe-" Father, Thy will be done; Father, glorify Thy name." If He will answer this prayer-and He will, in us, by us, and through us, if we really ask Him -all shall indeed be well with us.