PERFECT THROUGH FAITH.
God would not send you the darkness If He felt you could bear the light, But you would not cling to His guiding hand If the way were always bright; And you would not care to walk by faith Could you always walk by sight.
'Tis true He has many an anguish For your sorrowing heart to bear, And many a cruel thorn-crown For your tired head to wear; He knows how few would reach home at all If pain did not guide them there.
If He sends you in blinding darkness, And the furnace of seven-fold heat; 'Tis the only way, believe me, To keep you close to His feet; For 'tis always so easy to wander When our lives are glad and sweet.
Then nestle your hand in our Father's And sing if you can as you go; Your song may cheer some one behind you Whose courage is sinking low; And, well if your lips do quiver, God will love you better so.
—Selected.
A TRUE HERO.
Two men were sinking a shaft. It was dangerous business, for it was necessary to blast the rock. It was their custom to cut the fuse with a sharp knife. One man then entered the bucket and made a signal to be hauled up. When the bucket again descended, the other man entered it, and with one hand on the signal rope and the other holding the fire, he touched the fuse, made the signal, and was rapidly drawn up before the explosion took place.
One day they left the knife above, and rather than ascend to procure it, they cut the fuse with a sharp stone. It took fire. "The fuse is on fire!" Both men leaped into the bucket, and made the signal; but the windlass would haul up but one man at a time; only one could escape. One of the men instantly leaped out, and said to the other, "Up wi' ye; I'll be in heaven in a minute." With lightning speed the bucket was drawn up, and the one man was saved. The explosion took place. Men descended, expecting to find the mangled body of the other miner; but the blast had loosened a mass of rock, and it lay diagonally across him; and, with the exception of a few bruises and a little scorching, he was unhurt. When asked why he urged his comrade to escape, he gave a reason that sceptics would laugh at. If there is any being on the face of the earth I pity, it is a sceptic. I would not be called "a sceptic," today for all this world's wealth. They may call it superstition or fanaticism, or whatever they choose. But what did this hero say when asked, "Why did you insist on this other man's ascending?" In his quaint dialect, he replied, "Because I knowed my soul was safe; for I've give it in the hands of Him of whom it is said, that 'faithfulness is the girdle of his reins,' and I knowed that what I gied Him He'd never gie up. But t'other chap was an awful wicked lad, and I wanted to gie him another chance." All the infidelity in the world cannot produce such a signal act of heroism as that.—Selected.