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TEXTS FOR THE ΜΟΝΤΗ.

OCTOBER-31 DAYS.

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TH O God, Thou hast taught me from my youth (Psa. lxxi. 17).

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Cast thy burden on the Lord (Psa. lv. 22). The God of my mercy shall prevent me (Psa. lix. 10).

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Be Thou my strong habitation whereunto I may continually resort (Psa. lxxi. 3). Exalt the Lord, and worship at His footstool (Psa. xcix. 5).

Remember the word unto Thy servant, upon which Thou has caused me to hope (Psa. cxix. 48).

TH Ye are all the children of God by faith in

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Christ Jesus (Gal. iii. 26).

Bear ye one another's burdens (Gal. vi. 2).
Let us not be weary in well doing (Gal. vi. 9).
Be ye angry and sin not, let not the sun go
down upon your wrath (Eph. iv. 26).
Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God (Eph.
iv. 30).

Tu Walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us (Eph. v. 2).

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Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom (Col. iii. 16).

When thou goest, it shall lead thee (Prov. vi. 22).

For the commandment is a lamp, and the law is light (Prov. vi. 23).

Reproof of instruction are the way of life (Prov. vi. 23).

The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth and in thy heart (Rom. x. 8).

Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus (Col. iii. 17). Be content with such things as ye have (Heb. xiii. 5).

Let patience have her perfect work (James i. 4).

If any man among you seem to be religious and bridleth not his tongue, that man's religion is vain (James i. 26).

To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin (James iv. 17). 27 To The judge standeth before the door (James v. 9). 28 W Is any among you afflicted? Let him pray (James v. 13).

TH Love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous (1 Pet. iii. 8).

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Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might (Eph. vi. 10).

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15 TH Put on the whole armour of God (Eph. vi. 11).

The Lord is long suffering to us-ward (1 Pel. iii. 9).

Be diligent that ye be found of him in peace (2 Pet. iii. 14).

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.

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"WHAT MANNER OF LOVE!"

By the Rev. G. EVERARD, M.A.

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HAD the charge of lasting joy. Here was one who had lost a Parish Union everything that makes life seem desirable. upwards of thirty She had been brought low from a very years ago. One much better position. She had no prosof the inmates pect before her but to close her days in was more than a place where there is so much that is seventy years of painful and trying. But she could age at the time, triumph over all. The thought of being and she had lost a child of the Great King, the wonderful every relation in love of God in receiving and adopting the world, and also her into His household, the bright hopes the fair compe- that such a position inspired, these filled tency which once her heart with praise, and thankfulness, she had enjoyed. So the union was her and joy. only resource. But she was not unhappy. She had God with her as her stay and refuge, and He found for her a post where she could be very useful. She had charge of the young women's ward, and she was enabled to exercise very considerable influence amongst a very depraved class of girls. She did her utmost to check bad language, and to awaken any that she could to the fear and love of God. I am not aware of any decided conversions amongst them as the result of her work, but I have no doubt that much sin and evil was prevented through her faithful efforts.

One Sunday morning I went into her room, before the service in the chapel. I found her alone, with a large Bible open before her. She was reading a portion in the first Epistle of John, and her whole soul seemed absorbed in the blessed hopes that it suggested. Lifting up her hands, she exclaimed, "Behold, what manner of love! What manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of God."1

As I left the ward, I could not help reflecting on the marvellous power of the Gospel to lift the soul above all surrounding circumstances, and to give a deep and

1 John iii. 1.

Rich indeed was she, and rich are all who are like this woman, whether in a cottage, an attic, a parish union, or in a better home, for in their possession are wealth and peace and hope, of which no change can possibly rob them.

And poor are they, though in possession of all the world affords, who are journeying on through life strangers to the love of God!

"Behold, what manner of love!"

You remember when David sat before the Lord, He marvelled at God's goodness to him as he recounted the past and looked forward to the promises yet in store for him and his house. And then he added, "and is this after the manner of man, O Lord God!"

So may the believer look back and look forward, and worship and adore the goodness that hath led him hitherto, and that shall still follow him through his pilgrimage. "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts."

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What manner of love to stretch out the arm of mercy to sinners, the ungodly,

1 Isaiah lv. 8, 9.

rebels, and enemies, and to reckon them as dear children!

What manner of love to give His own well-beloved Son to ransom and rescue them, to become the Son of man that they might become sons of the Lord God!

What manner of love to pity them, to watch over them, to tend them day by day, to provide for their wants, and to give them His own blessed Spirit, teaching them to cry, "Abba, Father!"

What manner of love to assure them of an eternal home with Himself, to reckon them joint heirs with Christ, and to prepare for them an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away!

Christian, be this your confidence, your resting-place amidst all the changes and chances of this mortal life.

Unworthy though I be, yet in Christ I am owned and accepted as a beloved child. I am a son or daughter of the most High God, and He will keep me from all evil, supply all my needs, and bring me safely to my everlasting home. I will trust, and not be afraid. If I lose those dearest to me on earth, I have a loving Father to whom I can always turn. If I be poor or lonely, full of pain, or sorrow, or distress, my Father knows, and He will not fail me nor forsake me.

"Fathers may hate us or forsake,
God's foundlings then are we:
Mother on child no pity take,

But we shall still have Thee."

What manner of love!

Wonderful indeed is this love. None can tell its height or depth, or breadth or length. It is "marvellous lovingkindness," far beyond any human thought.

But can you claim it as your own? Are you indeed one of God's own reconciled, forgiven children? What is your position? What is your standing before Him?

Some years ago, I saw three or four lads looking in at a shop window, and carefully examining a picture of our Queen and of her children and grandchildren. They were trying to make out the names of each of them.

So I said to one of them, "Are you a member of the Royal Family?" They were very surprised at my question, so I repeated it, and said, "Are you a member of the Royal Family of Heaven?"

I added a few words to explain to them what I wanted them to learn, and then left them to ponder the question.

How is it with you? "Are you a member of the Royal Family?" Are you a son or daughter of the Great King? Have you become such by a true and living faith? It is written, "Ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." And none but those who have received Jesus and believed in Him have the right to regard themselves as sons of God. 2

And have you the family likeness? Is there about you something of the mind and spirit of the Lord Jesus? Have you His Holy Spirit abiding in your heart? Are you following Him in meekness, in patience, in love, in good works? Is it your constant prayer day by day to be more conformed to His image? Make sure of this point. And then for ever thank God for the grace He has bestowed upon you.

1 Galatians iii. 26.

? John i. 12.

ROSIE'S SNOWDROPS.

LEAK winter's snows had passed | "A friendly chat, a glass of ale,

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away,

Its biting frosts were o'er, Green buds were opening day by day,

About our cottage door.

My little Rose would often go

To watch the springing shoots,
Whose snowy shroud had slid below
To feed their thirsty roots.

My bonnie lassie loved the flowers,
And loved the Lord, who still
Gives shining sun and gracious showers
Alike to good and ill.

There first appeared above the mould
Some tiny threads of green,
Then crocus cup of living gold,

And snowdrop white were seen.
Each morning, when to work I went,
My little girl would bring

Some blossom fresh, which God had sent
Among the flowers of spring.

Her dainty fingers fixed it in
My coat of corduroy,

With smiles about her dimpled chin,
And laughing words of joy.

"Come home, dear father, soon," she'd say,
"Directly work is done,

And take me up the hill to-day
To watch the setting sun."

I grieve to say the little maid
Would sometimes wait in vain
To see me, in the evening shade,
Come turning up the lane.

I loved to share a friendly glass,
And with my comrades stay,
And often found it hard to pass
The "public" by the way.

I was no drunkard-I'd have spurned
With keenest indignation,

The faintest hint that I'd not learned
The strictest moderation.

But though my life seemed bright and gay,
My feet already trod

In slippery paths, that lead away
From holiness and God.

I laughed to scorn a friendly word
That warned me of my foe,

And said, "Your fears are quite absurd,
I know how far to go.

When daily work is done,

You surely, mate, would not curtail,
I seldom take but one.
"I hate the drunkard's slavish vice,
His swearing tongue condemn,
No sinners shall my feet entice
To walk in sin with them."
Alas! I did not guess how weak

My boasted strength might be,
Nor from the strong One courage seck,
Nor any danger see.

In windy March, one morning bright,
I wished the child good-bye,
She said, "Come very soon, to-night,
And now I'll tell you why;

"See all my snowdrops blooming here,
And everyone I save,

I want to take them, father, dear,
To little Willie's grave.

"Come, bear me, father, up the hill,
And show me where he lies,
And does he love the wild flow'rs still,.
With angels in the skies?

"And will he see that sister brings

A bunch of snowdrops white?
And can he look on earthly things
From out that glory bright?"

I kissed the pretty upturned face,
My eyes were full of tears.
The songs of yonder holy place
Seem ringing in my ears.

For when we hailed the Saviour's birth
With joy on Christmas Day,

There came an angel down to earth,
And took our child away.

Scarce three short years he'd lived below
Amid these shadows dim,
When Jesus called the child to go

On high, and dwell with Him.

"Yes, I will take you, dear," I said,
"So all the snowdrops save,
And you shall lay them at the head
Of little Willie's grave."

And as she watched me through the gate,
And down the winding lane,

I thought, "To-night I won't be late,
And grieve the child again."

And while I drove the plane all day,
The glossy wood to shave,

"Let's take the flowers," a voice would say, "To little Willie's grave."

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