but," we say, "that does not apply to the present state of society." But light and darkness are the same in every state of society-more or less intermingled, more or less sharply defined-but as entirely opposite as ever. It is the fashion now-a-days to smooth over differences, but the differences remain. "What communion," God Himself asks it, "hath light with darkness ? " In our heart's silence the words ring on still-What communion? And we know there is none. If we complain, as we often sorrowfully do, that we are not growing in grace and in the knowledge of Jesus, is it not because-because ? Conscience tells clearly enough the reason, if we will let it speak. We have not been sufficiently sensitive to the infection of an unhealthy atmosphere. We have not shrunk from any that was not warmed and purified by the Sun of Righteousness. What marvel if growth is slow? Can we say that the words do not reach to our own everyday guidance? If we cannot (or we must needs go out of the world) refuse all courteous intercourse with those who are not one with us in the faith of Christ, are we as careful, even as we might be, in avoiding needless contact with them? Is our association always necessary, never from choice? Do we feel the loneliness and trial of such intercourse?—or are we not very well content to enjoy it? Would it not be rather a cross to give it up than to continue it?" ABIDE IN MY LOVE. 79 20 When the concourse of the worldly throng goes sweeping on its way, All enveloped, all encumbered, with the busy hours of day, Do we hear the voice beside us pleading tenderly and low, "Come and rest a while with Jesus, rest with One who loves you so?" In the voiceless calm of evening, when the shadows fall around, When the glimm'ring "stars of twilight" fast are fading in the dawn, To herald in, to welcome in, the smiling of the morn, Do we rise to welcome Jesus ere the hours of toil begin, Just to leave with Him our sorrows and the burden of our sin? Are we list'ning, ever list'ning, to the echoes of His love, That are ringing, ever ringing, from the "mansions" there above? Are we living on His friendship, are we leaning on His breast, Trusting ever in His promise, "Come, and I will give you rest?" When the broken heart is tolling out its melancholy chime, All the while a loving voice is softly whispering to thee, See the loving smile of Jesus, see the angels looking on, won; As we walk away with Jesus, all the borderland along, "THE LITTLE FOXES.” CANTICLES ii. 15. REAL spiritual danger and true privilege ever run alongside of each other. If we search the Word we shall find that when the Lord's people have made some slip in their path, it has invariably been after some great spiritual privilege and enjoyment. Abraham, Moses, Elijah, and David are all instances of this. At such seasons the child of God is more likely to be off his guard. These Satan watches, and trips up the incautious Christian. Never do we need the warning "watch and pray" more than at such a moment, for when is it that the foxes make their appearance among the vines? Not in the dreariness and desolation of winter, when the vine-tree is stripped of its foliage and apparently lifeless stem. No; but in summer, when the foliage of the vine-tree is thick and beautiful, when the vines begin to bear, and when all around betokens summer fruitfulness. Then do the foxes, yea, the little foxes, move stealthily among the rich foliage, inserting their teeth in the bark of the vine stock, and cast a withering blight over the once beautiful tree. Christian, learn the instructive lesson. It is when thy soul is enjoying secret communion with the Saviour that "the vines have tender grapes." What a tender, sensitive plant is the Spirit of God within thee. What a little thing, like the "little fox," will draw a veil between thee and Jesus. What a little thing will draw over thy soul a cloud, a vapour, or a film, shading the brightness of His countenance, and making the heart droop with sadness. A thought, an imagination, a look, a word, a temper, an act not altogether straightforward-oh, these "little foxes," how they spoil the vines, how they blight the tender grapes. Watch, Christian, watch! Be on thy guard. Distrust thyself, and lean more on Jesus. There, only there, wilt thou be safe. Only there wilt thou be strong. Keep close to thy Saviour at all times and in all places; so shall it be well with thy soul. And if darkness or clouds, films or shadows, come between thee and thy Saviour, haste to the blood. Let not delay beget forgetfulness, and sin secrete itself in the soul. Let nothing harbour or fester in the dark. It is thus that spiritual sensitiveness begins to decline. Tenderness of conscience gives way. Then comes alienation, till, little by little, there is left behind in the soul an earthliness, a deadness, a blank. We have less shrinking from what is contrary to God's Spirit than we once had. Communion with God begins to lose its former freshness and sweetness. Some things, worldly, F though not perhaps sinful, begin to have attractions. for us they formerly had not. Then we go on to little compliances, little concessions which we once could not have made. The line which once separated us from the world becomes less broad, and clear, and distinct than it used to be. And so we go on, little by little, till we find ourselves at a distance from God, and carried down the stream of the world. Oh, watch, watch! Keep near to Jesus! So shall all go well with thy soul. How is the Master grieved? By every kind of sin, Thus is the Master grieved-Lord, I would pray How is the Master pleased? and praise; By holy, godly days, By hating every sin, Thus is the Master pleased-Lord, I would pray |