THE

GOSPEL MAGAZINE.

"COMFORT YE, COMFORT YE, MY PEOPLE, SAITH YOUR GOD." "ENDEAVOURING TO KEEP THE UNITY OF THE SPIRIT IN THE BOND OF PEACE." "JESUS CHRIST, THE SAME YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND FOR EVER.

WHOM TO KNOW

VOL. VIII.]

IS LIFE ETERNAL."

"But the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth.” MARK V. 33.

"TOLD him all the truth!" Reader, did you ever know what it was "to come and fall down before Jesus, and tell him all the truth?" If so, you have experienced in the very act-even before pardon was proclaimed a satisfaction, aye, and a certain peacefulness, which it Human powers is impossible for the language of mortals to describe.

are too poor-too contracted-to unfold divine realities. There is the secret utterance and recognition of the Spirit, which the Spirittaught family, and those alone, can understand. Such will find a heartfelt responding to the case and circumstances of the woman spoken of in our text, and with that responding will experience, more or less, the renewed drawings, attractions, and that peculiar impulse which first brought them to the feet of Jesus! Moreover, so specially of the Holy Ghost are these movements of the mind, that if the soul hath experienced them a thousand and a thousand times, yet is every renewal thereof attended with a freshness and a savour as pleasant and enjoyable to the heaven-born soul as though never before realized. This very fact is enough to silence the devil, upon the oft-repeated suggestion with which he is wont to tease some of us, that surely, after the lapse of thousands or millions of years, heaven will have lost its novelty-its attractions will subside, and its hallelujahs cease to

H

charm the ear and warm the heart of the redeemed! Beloved, we cannot be judges in the time-state of what those joys will be or of what their influence over the sin-freed mind, "for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him" (1 Cor. ii. 9). But if, while encumbered with the body of this death, and encompassed by ten thousand infirmities, we find every fresh interview with Jesus so precious; if a sight of him by faith is so endearing, that we instantly exclaim,

"My willing soul would stay

In such a frame as this,

And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss,"

what! oh, what will it be, when faith is lost in sight--when we
behold Him no more as through a glass darkly, but face to face? If,
with an apostle, we can say, "Whom having not seen we love, yea,
though now we see him not, yet believing, we rejoice with joy, which
is unspeakable and full of glory," to what climax shall not our love-
our gratitude-our transport arrive, when we see Him as He is-
revealed to us in his own most glorious person? If on earth, and
merely in the language of faith, the church could say, "He is the
chiefest among ten thousand;
He is the altogether lovely,"
what will she say in heaven, and that when faith shall have given place
to sight? Brethren, we must die, or rather we must fall asleep, and
awake up in his own glorious likeness, ere we can answer the
question.

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We cannot dismiss this subject (though it may be a digression from that which primarily lies before us) without asking such of our beloved readers as have enjoyed the sweet, soul-reviving presence of the Lord, "Were you ever tired of the season? Did Satan then, when you were immediately under its precious operations, dare suggest a doubt, or infuse a fear, about the permanence of your satisfaction and joy in such blessed company? You may have found such seasons too much for poor nature; the glory may have been such as to shake the fleshly tabernacle, and compel you, on account thereof, to beg the Lord to stay his hand, because the earthly vessel was full; but as for weariness, it was never-no, never the case. On the contrary, your language in the retrospect has been

"More frequent let thy visits be,

Or let them longer last;

I can do nothing without thee;

Make haste, my God, make haste."

Furthermore, if the manifestation of Jesu's love be such as to surpass everything that earth calls good or great; if one faith's glimpse of his lovely countenance throws all beside into the shade; though such an indulgence may be granted perhaps but once, twice, or thrice, in the whole course of our earthly pilgrimage, yet its power was such―its glory was such-its soul-ravishing enjoyment was such, as can never-no, never-be forgotten; if it be unceasingly regarded

as the one break in the cloud which enveloped our pathway to our Father's house; what, then, must be the bright, the unencumbered vision of God and the Lamb?

If drops from the river of love
Suffice to revive and renew,
O, what will our joy be above

When Jesus, the Fountain, we view?

No longer the stream, but the ocean 'twill be,
From suffering and sorrow eternally free!

Beloved, there is one feature in the subject before us which we must touch upon. It is for the little ones. And, as we have been told that our February paper was likely to wound such (though we had the very opposite object in view), we are the more anxious to say a word (if the Lord will) for their comfort. The more advanced-the young men and the fathers-must not be vexed at this. One called such preaching baby-food; we do not like the expression; our Lord's admonition (Matt. xviii. 6) would certainly not justify it.

We read (verse 25) that a certain woman had an issue of blood twelve years. Think of the time-just one-third of the average of life! Her affliction was indeed of the most painful kind. Her position was at once the most humbling and depressing. By some, the word "plague, as given in our version, is translated " scourge. And under this scourge she suffered day after day, and year after year, for the space of twelve long years. By the wording of the Holy Ghost, it would appear also that she had endured much in addition, in her attempts at cure; she "had suffered many things of many physicians.' Added to this, "she had spent all that she had;" and, so far from deriving any benefit, she "was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse." Ah! beloved, what a mercy, spiritually, for one's case to grow worse and worse in one's own estimation. "And when they had nothing to pay," became absolute paupers, "he frankly forgave them both" (Luke vii. 42). Notwithstanding the greatness of the malady (and for its extent read Lev. xv. 19, &c.) the woman was learning some most profitable lessons—namely, her own distressed condition, and the utter helplessness of man; and this self-same profitable lesson such of our readers as are sin-burdened, conscience-smitten, and heart-broken, are being savingly instructed in. They may be learning it a long time; such was the case with the sister before us; but the issue is certain. All led on to one blessed end, and so shall yours, even the meeting with Jesus, the good Physician! Doubtless she ofttimes was ready to despair of a cure; thought it no use to hope, or to look for, a remedy; her case she concluded was a doomed one. And so you may think yours. But it is not so-not so. The time came when she was to hear of Jesus! And such shall be the case with you. In all probability things with her were as bad as they could be; "she had spent all that she had ;" and now, in the time of her saddest extremity, she "hears of Jesus." He, in the love of his heart, had designed, as in the case of the Samaritan woman (John iv.), to meet with her; and therefore, not merely causes tidings to reach her of

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his wondrous power in the cure of diseases, but at the same time he infused no small measure of faith to believe in, as well as desire to seek, his divine aid. She comes forth from her lone retreatcatches a glimpse of the celestial Stranger; a divine impulse seizes her; and ere yet the momentary glance which she had caught of the benignity of that lovely countenance had passed in its freshness from her remembrance, she says within herself, "If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole." Ah! see how heavily at her heart the trial lay, and mark the intensity of her desire to be delivered therefrom! And see how the faith the Lord had given seeks Himself, the object of faith! What a mercy for poor sinners to be in the like condition! How undoubtedly is it all of sin-convincing grace! With a crimsonflushed countenance and agitated step, she hastens onward, she threads her way through the busy multitude, and at length finds herself within reach of Jesus! (Sin-burdened reader, you are within reach, too!) With throbbing heart and tremulous sensations, she stretches forth her hand, touches his garment, and instantly her malady departs; "the fountain of her blood is dried up." Jesus knew all-had ordained all; but that he might make a public example of the faith he himself had enkindled, and cheer yet more the woman he had healed, he turned himself about, and asked, "Who touched my clothes?" His disciples marvelled at the question; but Jesus knew where to look. searching glance espies the object, and brings that object, though with fear and trembling, to his feet. "The woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth." Affecting sight!-favoured spot!-a poor sinner at the feet of Jesus! Reader, were you ever there? If so, did you not find it sweet-unutterably so-to tell him all? At first there is a disposition to keep back part-to tell but a little-and that not the worst part of the story. We fancy it too bad-too black! But Jesus knows all, reader, and we may as well express it at once! Jesus is no Popish priest to extort a fee-no father confessor, to take advantage-to abuse our trust! Nor shall we experience relief, or get Jesu's answer of pardon and peace, whilst we hold back, cloak, hide, or strive to patch up excuses, in the old Adam style, "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.”—This indeed, is anything but that sweet strain of acknowledgment to which the Lord, sooner or later, brings all his children. But oh, how dear the season is, when the Lord begins to whisper his "fear-nots" into the heart, and the Lord the Spitit moves both mind and tongue," to tell the truth -the whole truth-and nothing but the truth." What blessed confession is this! The soul begins to breathe out in brokenness and sorrow its long catalogue of complaints against itself and its sin, and ere yet it has had time to get over the first item, as it were, much less to ask, "Can there be hope-can there be mercy-for such as I ?" Jesus points to his side, his hands, his feet—and whispers, "I have put away thy sin." The tidings seem too good to be true; the soul can hardly give credence to such a delightful fact; surely it must be in vision; again it attempts to enumerate; but once again a voice sweeter for its melody than ten thousand harps is heard, "Thy sins are