Plain Words for Christ, Being a Series of Readings for Working Men

by Reginald G. Dutton

"New mercies each returning day,

Hover around us while we pray;

New perils past, new sins forgiven,

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven."

You remember the answers to prayer recorded in the Bible. Elijah prayed that it might not rain; and God withheld the showers. On another occasion, he prayed that fire might come down on his sacrifice, and fire came down. Hezekiah prayed for an increase of days; and we are told that "there was added unto his life fifteen years." In the New Testament again, our blessed Lord, we are told, spent whole nights in prayer to God. In the history of the Early Church too, there are many instances of answers to prayer. There is the beautiful story of St. Augustine, who after leading a wicked and immoral life, was brought to Christ through the prayers of his mother. But why quote more? You and I, reader, I trust know and value this power of prayer. To be able, in the midst of the most pressing business, or the hardest toil, to retire into the secret chamber of our heart, as it were, and there tell to God our most urgent needs in prayer is one of the greatest comforts of our life.

And God often answers prayer in a way we little expect; so little, indeed, that we are apt hardly to realize it as an answer at all. A few years ago, there was an awful storm on the east coast of England, and a ship was seen to be in peril about a mile from the shore. The life-boat was launched, but owing to some delay, it seemed likely to be of but little use. As the boat was nearing a dangerous spot, one of the men cried, "Boys, shall we turn back, it is almost certain death to go on? The ship seems to have gone down, and, no doubt, all hands have perished." But one of his mates answered, "As I ran along the cliff, I saw behind a hedge two ladies praying. I am a wild chap, yet I do believe God hears prayer; we shall save some lives." Then on went the life-boat, with her gallant crew, ploughing her way through the dangerous breakers. The ship had gone down when the boat reached the spot, and no sign could be seen of her crew. The life-boat drifted four miles. In those four miles the sailors picked up first one poor fellow, then another, until eight lives had been saved. The shipwrecked sailors often told the tale afterwards, how that in answer to those ladies' prayer, the life-boat held on its way, and the little crew were saved. Yes, and I could tell you of more wonderful answers to prayer than that, but my object is not to tell you interesting stories, but to strive to leave a lasting impression, by God's grace, upon the heart. I have told you how God answers prayer, in a way which, though kind and loving, was quite unexpected. Sometimes God's answers may not seem to us kind and loving, but may at first appear to be harsh. We find in the end, however, that He knows best what is good for us. Oh! it is impossible to pass through life without feeling the power of prayer. The life of every separate person must testify to its power; the death of every Christian is an exhibition of it. "Pray without ceasing," then. Whenever you feel inclined to speak an idle word, say a few words to God instead. You can speak quite easily to your father on earth, why not speak as easily to your Father in Heaven? Nothing is too small, or too common, to tell Him about. The little daily troubles; the differences between masters and men; the question of your wages; the home troubles, the field troubles; the wet season, or the summer heat; the insects which destroy your garden, or the sins which are destroying your soul--these and such as these are not too small, or too simple to take up the attention of our Father in Heaven, "Who feedeth the young ravens that cry unto Him," and without Whose knowledge not even a sparrow falls to the ground, and dies.

ON BEING ALONE.

"Call it not solitude to be alone,

Call it not solitude, for God is nigh:

And holy angels from His heavenly throne

Breathe round us love, and comfort from on high.

Then go we forth to work and struggle on,

Onwards our steps, and upwards still our hearts;

Let all men see the strength, the power supreme,

One precious hour of solitude imparts.

Oh! never, never let us turn away

From one such blessed hour that God has given,

One moment when we can in silence pray

And raise our hearts unto our home in heaven."

Anon.

There are but few people, I suppose, who care to be alone. Man, you will say, was made for society; he was made to be of use to others, and not to dwell alone. True, it is not good for man to be always alone; and yet there are times when it is well to withdraw ourselves from the busy world, and to go into some solitary place, and be alone. It is a want that we all feel more or less. David felt it, "Oh that I had wings like a dove," he cried, "for then would I flee away and be at rest[#]." The Master felt it, for He continued whole nights alone in prayer to God. And God's saints in every age have felt it. In this busy life of ours we must often feel rest and solitude acceptable. How glad we are, for instance, when the evening comes, and we know that the day's toil is over, and that we can be alone. And when Saturday night comes we are more glad still, for we know that it means not merely a night's rest, but a day's rest too. Now I want you to think of being alone in three separate and distinct senses, 1. Solitude. 2. Loneliness. 3. Isolation. And first, solitude. A recent writer, speaking of our blessed Lord's frequent nights spent alone on the Mount of Olives, says,--"There is something affecting beyond measure in the thought of these lonely hours; the absolute stillness and silence, broken by no sounds of human life, but only by the hooting of the night-jar, or the howl of the jackal; the stars of an eastern heaven raining their large lustre out of the depth; the figure of the Man of Sorrows kneeling upon the dewy grass, and gaining strength for His labours from the purer air, the more open heaven, of that intense and silent communing with His Father and His God."

[#] Ps. lv. 6.

Yes, there is something wonderfully solemn and grand in that kind of solitude, the solitude of prayer. The intense silence of the world sleeping below Him, the cold night air upon His brow, the kneeling figure and earnest words; these all we can picture to ourselves, and say such solitude is good!

Then, again, there is loneliness. Who has not felt lonely? It may have been that as we stood round an open grave and listened to the beautiful words spoken by our Church over the departed, we first learnt what loneliness meant. I have been told that nowhere is the sense of loneliness stronger than on hearing the service for the Burial of the Dead at sea. I have been told that there comes over the spirit an untold sense of loneliness when one of a vessel's crew is committed to the deep, far from land, in the midst of the ocean, "looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead;" and the living comrades stand around the corpse and see the cold waves close over their mate's remains. But solitude is no mere feeling of the mind, it is a stern reality. It comes as a necessary part in the life of all men, and so it must be met.

Lastly, there is isolation. And this to men is the hardest trial of all. To be obliged to mix with people with whom we have nothing in common, to go about and live with those who have no fear of God before their eyes, to work with the blasphemer, to toil for the vicious, to mix with the depraved; oh! sit needs a Christian spirit indeed to bear up under such a trial. But Christ knew well what it was to do this. He was as much alone in the crowded street as ever He was on the cold hillside. He was as truly alone when He sat at meat in the Pharisee's house as He was while walking on the sea of Gennesaret. Oh yes, isolation is the portion of all true Christians as it was of the Master. We can talk to men of the world, we can mix with men of the world, and we can do good to men of the world, and yet all the while we are alone. Oh! don't you know what it is to long to ask advice, and yet have none of whom to ask it? Don't you know how easy it is to make hundreds of acquaintances, but how very hard it is to have one true friend? And this is what Jesus felt, and felt for us. He went through it all, all the solitude, all the loneliness, all the bitter isolation for you and for me, that when the time came that we should be alone, we might remember His loneliness and take courage. Reader, the day will come when you too will have to be alone. You may surround yourself with friends now, you may take pleasure in counting the number of those who are proud to know you; but, believe me, it won't be so always. Alone you will have to pass through the dark valley of the shadow of death, alone you will have to stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. Alone you will have to give "that strict and solemn account" of the way in which you have used your time, your influence, and your power on earth. But there is One, One who knows what loneliness is, Who has promised to be with you, if you ask Him; promised to take care of you over the dark valley, for the darkness is no darkness with Him, and He has passed over that way before. Go then to Jesus, the lonely Man of sorrows. Make a friend of Him, and tell Him that you want His help in your solitude, His guidance in your loneliness, His presence in your isolation; ask Him to come to you as He came of old to His toiling, weary, lonely disciples on the Galilean sea; ask Him to come and guide your ship into quiet harbours, and safe resting-places, and to bring you into a better country, even an heavenly, where none are sad, or sick, or lonely, for all are filled with the Presence of God.