218 THE COAT OF MANY COLOURS. that the Almighty Ruler of the skies despiseth not poverty. He puts down the mighty from their seat, and exalts them of low degree. He fills the hungry with good things, and sends the rich empty away. Were all the Christians congregated together to whom the Saviour of the world when on earth showed personal kindness, they would form but a motley group, and would obtain but little attention, on account of the respectability of their clothing. Simon Peter's "fisher's coat" was most likely of a homely fashion. Poor blind Bartimeus, who would not be chidden into silence, but persisted in crying out, "Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me," was not, you may depend upon it, dressed in very fashionable attire. I greatly question if the cloak that Paul left at Troas was of much value; and I never could think of lowly Lazarus as wearing any other coat on the sabbath day than that which he wore on every other day of the week. Cheer up, humble-minded, meanly-clad Christian. Be content for awhile to take the lowest seat: by and by thou shalt hear the welcome invitation of thy Lord, "Come up higher," when garments shall be given thee pure and white as the moon in her brightness, and effulgent as the sun in his glory. SUDDEN CHANGES. An old man's experience will perhaps be borne out by your own in the following relation. How sudden are, at times, the changes in the face of creation! One of the goodliest days that I ever remember was ushered in by the appearance of a storm. A sullen stillness prevailed, and the gathering gloom became more and more oppressive. It was a season that solemnized the mind. A day in which the burdened spirit might have given way to sadness, and the desponding soul lamented for sin. The heavy clouds were rolled thickly together; the low growl of the distant thunder seemed the note of preparation-the precursor of the raging storm. But even from the very bosom of the coal-black cloud the sunbeam bursts forth; the darkened vapours were soon after scattered, and heaven was lit up with a blaze of glory. It was a season of sudden surprise and joy. A day in which the exulting heart might have cried aloud, "Let young men, and maidens; old men, and children; yea, let every 220 SUDDEN CHANGES. thing that hath breath praise the Lord: for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven. Praise ye the Lord," Psa. cxlviii. 12, 13; cl. 6. How oft amid the murky shroud And breaking from the thunder cloud, How often too, with waving wings, THE CHURLISH FARMER. ARE you kind-hearted or churlish? This is a little like asking if you are a cordial or a scourge to those around you. One of the most churlish remarks that I remember to have ever heard was made by a farmer; it was on a Shrove Tuesday. A servant-girl had been frying pancakes and fritters all the morning, till, what with the heat and the fatigue, she seemed hardly able to stand. A kind-hearted visitor, who happened to be present, interceded that the girl might have a little rest. "Let her rest in her grave!" was the reply of the churlish farmer. This happened when I was a boy, so that by the time I grew up to manhood, the churlish farmer was in years. With the wrinkled brow and the grey hair came age's infirmities, weakness, rheumatic attacks, loss of appetite and decrepitude. Often and often did I hear him complain of weariness and pain, and especially that he could get no rest; but never do I remember hearing him make this last observation without being reminded of his churlish remark, "Let her rest in her grave!" 222 THE CHURLISH FARMER. Years rolled on; spring and summer, autumn and winter passed away. The farmer's ground was ploughed and sowed, reaped and mowed ; his harvests were safely stowed in his rickyards and barns, and at last he himself was gathered into the garner of death. It seems but as yesterday when attended his remains to the house appointed for all living. When the funeral service had been read, the rattling earth dropped on the coffin, and the minister had taken his departure, some who were present indulged in a few remarks standing on the edge of the grave. One remembered this of the departed, and another remembered that. I had my remembrance too; and I wish it had been of a different kind. I remembered-and it moves me even now to acknowledge it--I remembered his churlish remark, "Let her rest in her grave!" Now, whatever of our frailties and infirmities may be remembered by our surviving friends, when the green sod is growing over us, let it not be said that we had within us unkind and churlish hearts. We are borne with; let us bear with others, not forgetting the injunction of the apostle Peter, "Be pitiful, be courteous;" nor that of St. Paul, "Be kindly affectioned one to another," Rom. xii. 10; 1 Pet. iii. 8. |