WILL IT ANSWER YOUR PURPOSE?

HENEVER you form a resolution, make a plan, or enter on an undertaking, ask yourself first whether it will answer your purpose. You may, perhaps, say that if you thought it would not answer your purpose, you would not engage in it.

But wicked men commit sins wilfully, weak men fall into errors unintentionally, wise men make mistakes, and good men are often overcome by temptation. If, then, the wicked and the weak, the wise and the good, are all liable to error, it must be the same with every one. Nothing is clearer than that every one, in his resolvings, his plans and his undertakings, should ask himself the question, Will it answer my purpose?

What a world of disappointment, vexation, and sorrow. it would save us if we read God's Word, pondered God's Word, believed God's Word, trusted God's Word, rejoiced in God's Word, and acted on God's Word; but we do not. We only half read it, half ponder it, half believe it, half trust it, and half act upon it, and thus we rob ourselves of peace, and lay up for ourselves disappointment. This is a very bad plan, and we shall never make it answer our purpose.

We persuade ourselves that greatness and richness and worldly wisdom will make us happy. God's Word never told us so; it tells us just the contrary, but we do not believe it. God's Word says, "Labour not to be rich;" but we do labour to be rich. God's Word says, "Godliness with contentment is great gain;" but we are content to grasp the gain, and to leave the godli

ness.

In doing this we cheat ourselves: would it not be wiser if we seriously asked ourselves the question, Is this course right, and will it answer our purpose?

King Solomon was one of the greatest of all kings; he had great power, great riches, great knowledge, great wisdom, and great experience. How was it that so great, so rich, and so wise a king could not make all he that he possessed answer his purpose? How was it that giving himself up to mirth and pleasure did not render him happy?

"Oh," say you, "he should have built himself a noble house, and surrounded it with fine trees, and beautiful grounds, and woods, and water." Why, this was the very thing that he did do. Hear his own account of the affair. "I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards: I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits: I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees." But though he did this, it did not answer his purpose; it did not make him happy.

"But why did he not make a collection of all the choice and curious things he could get? Why did he

not gather round him cheerful and talented company to enliven him? Why did he not have musical concerts and other things?" Why did he not? He did! He took the very course you recommend. He gathered "silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings," he got him "men singers and women singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts." He kept back no desire from his eyes, and no joy from his heart; and yet, after all, it did not answer his purpose, for when he looked upon all the works that his hands had wrought, and on the labours that he had laboured to do, he found, alas! that "all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun."

What shall we say to this? It is a very striking and important lesson. If worldly possessions did notanswer the purpose of King Solomon, will they answer ours? If they did not make him happy, are they likely to render us happy? This is not at all probable. Seeing, then, that King Solomon has furnished us with the lesson, we can hardly do better than adopt King Solomon's conclusion: "Fear God, and keep His commandments," says he; "for this is the whole duty of man." If we do this, we shall act wisely, for it will add to our comfort, diminish our care, and prevent disappointment. In a word, it will be sure to answer

our purpose.

There is no harm, but great good, in getting wisdom; only let it be true wisdom, the fear of the Lord. There is no harm, but much advantage, in getting riches; but let it not be such riches as the robber can steal, the rust corrupt, or the moth consume. Let your riches and your wisdom be such as will wear well, such as you cannot lose, such as you can honestly recommend to another, and such as you feel certain will answer your

purpose.

Solomon tried hard to make himself happy with wine, mirth, laughter, knowledge, and worldly wisdom, but it would not do; for he found that laughter was madness, that wine and mirth did nothing for him, that knowledge was sorrow, and that wisdom was grief. Thousands have followed Solomon's plan, with the same want of success. Solomon's example is for the benefit of all. Are you aware of this? Are you sure of it? Are you perfectly convinced that the best things of the earth, without heaven at the end of them, will never answer your purpose?

OLD JOE.

HUS he was familiarly called; not that he was really old. His hair was not grey, nor his form bent; nor had he yet attained the prime of life. Why then was he called old Joe?

Because he was a drunkard, and his weak and staggering steps were like those of an old man. A crowd of boys would follow him, asking questions and laughing at his answers.

Old Joe was always good-natured, and for this reason he was a favourite, in spite of his bad habit.

He had a talent for public speaking. He could move not only boys, but men to tears. He would point to his own wretched condition, and say, "This is what drink has done for me. I never thought that I should become a miserable drunkard. Beware, boys, beware, men, of strong drink!" After he had finished his speech, he would pass round his hat, into which the bystanders would throw a few pennies; and these he would spend for drink. Sometimes he was asked to speak upon a certain topic, and told that he should be treated if he would comply. Whatever the subject or the occasion might be, old Joe could always speak in a suitable and often eloquent manner; but very little effort was now made to reclaim him, so hopeless was his case regarded.

Mary Howell had been to a temperance meeting. She thought of old Joe, and how much good he might do if he were a sober man. She prayed that God would help him to lead a better life, and would bless the efforts she should make for his recovery. The next morning she sought him, and told him how much she desired that he might become a temperate man. Joe was touched with her earnest appeals. "Why, miss, you talk as if you really cared for me." "Oh, I do, I do," the young girl replied. "I want you to sign the pledge. Here it is; please write your name."

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"But if I should break it? I would rather not sign, for fear I might."

"You won't break it," said Mary, "for I will pray to God that He will help you keep it. And if you will ask Him yourself, and will try to keep it, I am sure that you will be able."

"Well, may God help me! I will sign it." His hand trembled as he wrote his name. The deed was done. the character of the man. that day was a lasting one. No longer clothed in rags, haranguing a crowd of idle men and boys, but neatly dressed, sober and industrious, he lived respected by all. A sincere Christian, a talented public speaker, he spent his life in efforts to reclaim his fellow-men.

A simple act, yet it changed
The reformation commenced

Let us imitate the example of Mary Howell, remembering that "he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins." "They that turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and ever."

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Oh, but that is not all, for the more she has, the more she wants; Grace is never satisfied."

"How hateful! Of course you have nothing to do with such a miser."

The figure was such as may be seen in country villages any day. Once tall and masculine, it was beginning to bend with age and weakness. Grace was clad in a short linsey petticoat, with a print gown, over which was clumsily pinned a faded old woollen plaid shawl. A clean cap, with a full broad border, spread itself round her face beneath an ancient bonnet that might once have been black, but was now of no decided shape or colour at all. A well-formed nose and quick bright eyes drew attention to her quiet thoughtful face, as she limped along, bearing an open flat basket on her head.

"Well, Grace, good morning to you. What have you got in your basket up there?"

"A bit of mould," replied Grace, bluntly.

"Did I not say well that Grace was rich? Having nothing, yet possessing all things.' She may not be sure of a meal, yet all things' are hers, for she is Christ's, and Christ is God's. Yet she 'covets earnestly the best gifts,' and will never be fully satisfied until she wakes up some day in the likeness of her Lord. Grace one of the poor? Oh no! The wealthiest of this world's favourites is poor until he seeks a share in the unsearchable riches.""

I AM THY GOD.

AM thy GOD, there's none beside;

I am thy Rock, thy Shield, thy Guide;
I am thy Portion, trust in Me;

My promise I will keep with thee.

I am thy Strength, sufficient, sure;
I am thy Refuge, rest secure ;
I am thy Fortress, there abide
Safe when the ills of life betide.
I am thy Sun, thy path to light;
I am the Door, I lead aright;
I am the Shepherd, Mine I know,
They follow where My footsteps go.
I am the Way, come unto Me;
I am the Truth-truth maketh free;
I am the Life, and life I give,
That dying men may look and live.

I am thy Crown; fear not, endure;

I am alive for evermore;

I am the first, and last as well,
And have the keys of death and hell!

THERE'S THE LIGHT!

UR steamer was nearing land on her homeward voyage. As the sun went down, a cold and furious blast from the north came down suddenly upon us. The darkness became intense. Here and there were shoals and other dangers. Great anxiety prevailed among all on board. Suddenly came a shout from the sailor on the foreyard, "There's the light!" The joyful sound rang through the ship, to the great relief of every passenger. The true position of the steamer was now known. Anxiety was over, and quietness, in a sense of safety, was restored. We were soon in the quiet waters of the river.

That shout of the sailor aloft has often been sounding in my ears since that anxious night. Could I not make some use of the sailor's words for the guidance and comfort of the anxious and suffering sailing with me on the dark sea of life? Those words gave quietness to a hundred passengers in the steamer. Could they not, in view of the "Light of the world," as suggested by them, give guidance and peace to some amid the gloom and perils of life?

My footsteps carried me over the threshold of one amid the countless sorrows of widowhood. There was the lonely and desolate home, the fatherless childrenpoverty, too, was there, with its attendant evils-all conspiring to deepen the gloom of that cheerless

I was called into the presence of one wasting away by fatal disease. The silver cord was being loosed and the golden bowl broken. A wide waste of dark and troubled waters seemed stretching out before him. "Look!" Where shall he look? He had so long gazed upon the world as his supreme good that eternal things were but faintly and dimly discerned. But, to a dying sinner, could safer counsel be given, with the open Word of God before him and the Saviour pointed out, than the appeal, "There's the Light?"

I was called to the death-bed of a saint. The world was fast disappearing in the opening realities of eternity, but all was peace. The power and value of faith had been daily shown by a noble life of usefulness. It was scarcely news to say "There's the Light." Already the glories of heaven were shining on the soul. The last waves of life's troubled sea were wafting him to the shining shore. Before I left the house there was a new member joining with the heavenly choir in the song, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain."

As our steamer safely reached the quiet waters of the river, and the perils of the sea were passed, so the ransomed of the Lord, guided by "the bright and morning Star," make life's voyage safely, and enter the haven of eternal rest.

M

The Lord Himself will keep

His people safe from harm;

Will hold the helm, and guide the ship, With His almighty arm.

Then let the tempests roar,

The billows heave and swell,

We trust to reach the peaceful shore,
Where all the ransomed dwell.

A FLAMING TEXT.

R. MOODY always liked to have his preaching places decorated with Scripture mottoes. The walls of his Illinois Street Chapel were profusely ornamented with texts; and even the gasburners above the pulpit were so arranged as to spell out, in great letters of light, the precious words, "God is Love."

One Sunday night in winter a poor shivering fellow was passing the place, and seeing the vestibule door open, went in to shelter himself from the cold. The inner door also was ajar; and being curious to see for once the inside of a place of worship, he looked cautiously in. The strange light above the pulpit at once attracted his notice, and the holy words were soon imprinted on his heart. He entered the meeting, gave himself to Christ, and became a useful member of Mr. Moody's church.