"F" Feathers

FAITH The stupendous Falls of Niagara have been spoken of in every part of the world; but while they are marvellous to hear of, and wonderful as a spectacle, they have been very destructive to human life, when by accident any have been carried down the cataract. Some years ago, two men, a bargeman and a collier, were in a boat and found themselves unable to manage it, it being carried so swiftly down the current that they must both inevitably be borne down and dashed to pieces. At last, however, one man was saved by floating a rope to him, which he grasped. The same instant that the rope came into his hand, a log floated by the other man. The thoughtless and confused bargeman, instead of seizing the rope, laid hold on the log. It was a fatal mistake, they were both in imminent peril, but the one was drawn to shore because he had a connection with the people on the land, whilst the other, clinging to the loose, floating log, was borne irresistibly along, and never heard of afterwards. Faith has a saving connection with Christ. Christ is on the shore, so to speak, holding the rope, and as we lay hold of it with the hand of our confidence, he pulls us to shore; but our good works having no connection with Christ are drifted along down to the gulf of fell despair. Grapple our virtues as tightly as we may, even with hooks of steel, they cannot avail us in the least degree; they are the disconnected log which has no holdfast on the heavenly shore.

FAITH The Emperor Napoleon I. was reviewing some troops upon the Place du Carrousel, in Paris; and, in giving an order, he thoughtlessly dropped the bridle upon his horse's neck, which instantly set off on a gallop. The emperor was obliged to cling to the saddle. At this moment a common soldier of the line sprang before the horse, seized the bridle, and handed it respectfully to the emperor. "Much obliged to you, captain," said the chief, by this one word making the soldier a captain. The man believed the emperor, and, saluting him, asked, "Of what regiment, sire?" Napoleon, charmed with his faith, replied, "Of my guards!" and galloped off.

Now, what will the soldier do? If he imitates those who before believing wish to see and feel, and like the apostle Thomas wait for palpable proof before relying upon testimony, he will say, "a captain of the guard always wears a captain's uniform, and mine is only that of a common soldier. I cannot, therefore, believe myself a captain;" and the soldier would return to the ranks. But if, on the contrary, he believes fully and implicitly the emperor's word, and that his rank as captain of the guard depends not upon the uniform he wears, but that the uniform must be the consequence and evidence of his rank (and this will be his thought if he honours the emperor), he will not hesitate because of his dress, nor will he return to the line. And such, indeed, was the conduct of the man. As soon as the emperor left, the soldier laid down his gun, saying, "He may take it who will," and instead of returning to his comrades, he approached the group of staff officers. On seeing him, one of the generals scornfully said, "What does this fellow want here?" "This fellow," replied the soldier proudly," is a captain of the guard." "You? my poor friend! You are mad to say so!" "He said it," replied the soldier, pointing to the emperor, who was still in sight. "I ask your pardon, sir," said the general respectfully, "I was not aware of it."

Mere, then, was exhibited a manifold faith. Since first the soldier believed the emperor, upon his word, because he heard him (as the Samaritans said of the Saviour), and afterwards, on the soldier's word, the general believed the emperor.

You now see how a person may be sure that God gives peace: it is by believing his testimony, just as this soldier believed that of his emperor. That is to say, as he believed himself to be a captain before wearing his uniform; so on the word and promise of God, one believes himself to be a child of Jesus, before being sanctified by his Spirit."—Caesar Malan, D.D.

FAITH—Appropriating

I once heard a father tell, that when he removed his family to a new residence, where the accommodation was much more ample, and the substance much more rich and varied than that to which they had previously been accustomed, his youngest son, yet a lisping infant, ran round every room, and scanned every article with ecstacy, calling out, in childish wonder at every new sight, "Is this ours, father? and is this ours?" The child did not say "yours," and I observed that the father while he told the story was not offended with the freedom. You could read in his glistening eye that the infant's confidence in appropriating as his own all that his father had, was an important element in his satisfaction.

Such, I suppose, will be the surprise, and joy, and appropriating confidence, with which the child of our Father's family will count all his own, when he is removed from the comparatively mean condition of things present, and enters the infinite of things to come. When the glories of heaven burst upon his view, he does not stand at a distance, like a stranger, saying, "O God, these are thine." He bounds forward to touch and taste every provision which those blessed mansions contain, exclaiming, as he looks in the Father's face, "Father, this and this is ours." The dear child is glad of all the Father's riches, and the Father is gladder of his dear child.—W. Arnot.

FAITH—a Death Grip A sea captain related at a prayer-meeting in Boston a short time ago a thrilling incident in his own experience.

"A few years ago," said he, "I was sailing by the island of Cuba, when the cry ran through the ship, 'Man overboard!' It was impossible to put up the helm of the ship, but I instantly seized a rope and threw it over the ship's stern, crying out to the man to seize it as for his life. The sailor caught the rope just as the ship was passing. I immediately took another rope, and making a slip noose of it, attached it to the other, and slid it down to the struggling sailor, and directed him to pass it over his shoulders and under his arms, and he would be drawn on board. He was rescued; but he had grasped that rope with such firmness, with such a deathgrip, that it took hours before his hold relaxed, and his hand could be separated from it. With such eagerness, indeed, had he clutched the object that was to save him, that the strands of the rope became imbedded in the flesh of his hands!"

Reader, has not God let down from heaven a rope to every sinner on the earth, is not every strand a precious promise, and ought we not to lay hold on it as for our very life?—The Family Treasury for 1859.

FAITH—God's Regard for it A swallow having built its nest upon the tent of Charles V., the emperor generously commanded that the tent should not be taken down when the camp removed, but should remain until the young birds were ready to fly. Was there such gentleness in the heart of a soldier towards a poor bird which was not of his making, and shall the Lord deal hardly with his creatures when they venture to put their trust in him! Be assured he hath a great love to those trembling souls that fly for shelter to his royal courts. He that buildeth his nest upon a divine promise shall find it abide and remain until he shall fly away to the land where promises are lost in fulfilments.

FAITH—God's Trial of At the brittle of Crescy, where Edward the Black Prince, then a youth of eighteen years of age, led the van, the king, his father, drew up a strong party on a rising ground, and there beheld the conflict in readiness to send relief where it should be wanted. The young prince being sharply charged, and in some danger, sent to his father for succour; and as the king delayed to send it, another messenger was sent to crave immediate assistance. To him the king replied, "Go, tell my son that I am not so inexperienced a commander as not to know when succour is wanted, nor so careless a father as not to send it." He intended the honour of the day. should be his son's, and therefore let him with courage stand to it, assured that help should be had when it might conduce most to his renown. God draws forth his servants to fight in the spiritual warfare, where they are engaged, not only against the strongholds of carnal reason, and the exalted imaginations of their own hearts, but also in the pitched field against Satan and his wicked instruments. But they, poor hearts, when the charge is sharp, are ready to despond, and cry with Peter, "Save, Lord, we perish;" but God is too watchful to overlook their exigencies, and too much a Father to neglect their succour. If help, however, be delayed, it is that the victory may be more glorious by the difficulty of overcoming.

FAITH—Overcoming Temptation When a traveller was asked whether he did not admire the admirable structure of some stately building, "No," said he, "for I've been at Rome, where better are to be seen every day." O believer, if the world tempt thee with its rare sights and curious prospects, thou mayst well scorn them, having been, by contemplation, in heaven, and being able, by faith, to see infinitely better delights every hour of the day. "This is the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith."

FAITH—Stimulating Endeavour

See the spider casting out her film to the gale, she feels persuaded that somewhere or other it will adhere and form the commencement of her web. She commits the slender filament to the breeze believing that there is a place provided for it to fix itself. In this fashion should we believingly cast forth our endeavours in this life, confident that God will find a place for us. He who bids us pray and work will aid our efforts and guide us in his Providence in a right way. Sit not still in despair, O son of toil, but again cast out the floating thread of hopeful endeavour, and the wind of love will bear it to its resting place.

FAITH—the Summary of Virtue The Jews in the Talmud have the saying, "The whole law was given to Moses at Sinai, in six hundred and thirteen precepts." David, in the fifteenth Psalm, brings them all within the compass of eleven. Isaiah brings them to six, Isaiah 33:15; Micah to three, Micah 6:8; Isaiah, again, to two, Isaiah 56; Habakkuk to this one, "The just shall live by faith." Habakkuk 2:4.—Lightfoot FAITH—Triumph of

During an earthquake that occurred a few years since, the inhabitants of a small village were generally very much alarmed, but they were at the same time surprised at the calmness and apparent joy of an old lady whom they all knew. At length one of them, addressing the old lady, said: "Mother, are you not afraid?" "No," said the mother in Israel; "I rejoice to know that I have a God that can shake the world."

FAITH—and Works

'Twas an unhappy division that has been made between faith and works. Though in my intellect I may divide them, just as in the candle I know there is both light and heat, but yet put out the candle, and they are both gone; one remains not without the other: so it is betwixt faith and works. Nay, in a right conception, fides est opus: if I believe a thing because I am commanded, that is opus.—The Table Talk of John Selden.

FALSE CONFIDENCES

Some years ago, there was a bridge at Bath in so crazy a condition, that cautious persons chose rather to make a long circuit than run the risk of crossing it. One day, however, a very nervous lady, hurrying home to dress for the evening, came suddenly upon the spot without, till that moment, remembering the danger. The sight of the bridge reminded her of its ruinous state, just as she was about to set her foot upon it. But what was she to do? If she went on, the frail arch might give way under her; to go round would be fatiguing and attended with much loss of time. She stood for some minutes trembling in anxious hesitation; but at last a lucky thought occurred to her, she called for a sedan-chair, and was carried over in that conveyance! You may laugh, perhaps, at this good lady's odd expedient for escaping danger by shutting out the view of it. But is not something of the same kind happening around you every day? Those people who are alarmed and perplexed at the danger of having to judge for themselves in religious matters, think to escape that danger by choosing to take some guide as an infallible one, and believe or disbelieve as he bids them. What is this but crossing the crazy bridge in a sedan-chair? In determining to believe whatever their guide affirms, they are in reality choosing to make every single exercise of faith which follows that original determination; and they are choosing to believe he is infallible into the bargain. There are at least as many chances of error as before against every single article of faith in the creed which they adopt upon their guide's authority; and there are also additional chances against that authority itself. Thus, in order to get over more safely, they put not only their own weight, but that of the sedan-chair also, upon the tottering arch.—Excelsior.

FALSE HOPES—Danger of A sailor while clinging with others to a waterlogged vessel, observed great swarms of sharks and other ferocious fish swimming on all sides, as if waiting for their prey. If men had eyes might they not clearly see evil spirits gathering around the sinking hulks of Romanism and self-righteousness, watching for their expected victims?

FEAR OF SIN The old naturalist, Ulysses Androvaldus, tells us that a dove is so afraid of a hawk, that she will be frightened at the sight of one of its feathers. Whether it be so or not, I cannot tell; but this I know, that when a man has had a thorough shaking over the jaws of hell, he will be so afraid of sin, that even one of its feathers—any one sin—will alarm and send a thrill of fear through his soul. This is a part of the way by which the Lord turns us when we are turned indeed.

FOG—a Figure of our Partial Knowledge Being once surrounded by a dense mist on the Styhead Pass in the Lake District, we felt ourselves to be transported into a world of mystery where everything was swollen to a size and appearance more vast, more terrible, than is usual on this sober planet. A little mountain tarn, scarcely larger than a farmer's horse-pond, expanded into a great lake whose distant shores were leagues beyond the reach of our poor optics; and as we descended into the valley of Wastwater, the rocks on one side like the battlements of heaven, and the descent on the other hand, looked like the dreadful lips of a yawning abyss; and yet when one looked back again in the morning's clear light there was nothing very dangerous in the pathway, or terrible in the rocks. The road was a safe though sharp descent, devoid of terrors to ordinary mountain climbers. In the distance through the fog the shepherd "stalks gigantic," and his sheep are full-grown lions.

Into such blunders do we fall in our life-pilgrimage; a little trouble in the distance is, through our mistiness, magnified into a crushing adversity. We see a lion in the way, although it is written that no ravenous beast shall go up thereon. A puny foe is swollen into a Goliath, and the river of death widens into a shoreless sea.

Come, heavenly wind, and blow the mist away, and then the foe will be despised, and the bright shores on the other side the river will stand out clear in the light of faith!

FOREBODINGS—Falsified

John Condor, afterwards D.D., was born at Wimple in Cambridgeshire, June 3, 1714. His grandfather, Richard Condor, kissed him, and, with tears in his eyes, said, "Who knows what sad days these little eyes are likely to see?" things wearing at that time a threatening aspect, relative to Dissenters. Dr. Condor remarked upon mentioning the above circumstance, "These eyes have, for more than sixty years, seen nothing but goodness and mercy follow me and the churches of Christ, even to this day."

Thus many a desponding prophecy is falsified by events most blessed. We write bitter things, and God blots them out and writes gracious things in lieu thereof. Many a gloomy vaticinator might save himself his depression of spirit if he would remember that "the Lord reigneth," and "he will speak peace unto his people."

FORMALISM—Tricks of In Mrs. Grant's "Letters from the Mountains" (1806), is the following anecdote of the then Duchess of Gordon. "The duchess said that on Sunday she never saw company, nor played cards, nor went out: in England, indeed, she did so, because every one else did the same, but she would not introduce those manners into this country (Scotland). I stared at these gradations of piety growing warmer as it came northward, but was wise enough to stare silently." The tricks of formalism and hypocrisy are evermore the same. Man is regarded more than God. What Mrs. Grundy may say has far more influence with many than what the Lord may say. This is miserable meanness and rank impiety.

FORMALITY—Habits of, Worthless That honoured servant of Christ, Richard Knill, notes in his journal the following amusing incident of the force of habit, as exemplified in his horse. "Mr. and Mrs. Loveless would have me live with them, but they charged me very little for my board, whereby I was enabled, with my salary, to support seven native schools. These were so situated that I could visit them all in one day. My horse and gig were seen constantly on the rounds; and my horse at last knew where to stop as well as I did. This nearly cost a Bengal officer his life. Captain Page, a godly man, who was staying with us until a ship was ready to take him to the Cape, one morning requested me to lend him my horse and gig to take him to the city. The captain was driving officer-like, when the horse stopped suddenly, and nearly threw him out. He inquired, 'What place is this?" The answer was, 'It's the Sailors' Hospital.' They started again, and soon the horse stopped suddenly, and the captain was nearly out as before. 'What's this?'—'A school, sir,' was the reply. At last he finished his business, and resolved to return another way. By doing this he came near my schools, and again and again the horse stopped. When he got home, he said,' I am glad that I have returned without broken bones, but never will I drive a religious horse again.'"

Persons who go to places of worship from mere habit and without entering into the devotions of the service, may here see that their religion is only such as ahorse may possess, and a horse's religion will never save a man.

FRIENDSHIP OF THE WORLD—Vanity The vanity of all friendship which is not founded in true principle, was never more plainly expressed than in an honest, but heartless, sentence of one of Horace Walpole's letters. "If one of my friends happens to die, I drive down to St. James's Coffee-house, and bring home a new one." The name of "friend" is desecrated in a worldling's mouth—but there is a friend.

FRIVOLITIES—Render Men Callous to the Gospel

"When Bonaparte put the Duke d'Enghien to death, all Paris felt so much horror at the event that the throne of the tyrant trembled under him. A counter-revolution was expected, and would most probably have taken place, had not Bonaparte ordered a new ballet to be brought out, with the utmost splendour, at the Opera. The subject he pitched on was "Ossiau, or the Bards." It is still recollected in Paris, as perhaps the grandest spectacle that had ever been exhibited there. The consequence was that the murder of the Duke d'Enghien was totally forgotten, and nothing but the new ballet was talked of."

After this fashion Satan takes off men's thoughts from their sins, and drowns the din of their consciences. Lest they should rise in revolt against him, he gives them the lusts of the flesh, the vanities of pride, the cares of this world, or the merriment of fools, to lead away their thoughts. Poor silly men are ready enough for these misleading gaieties, and for the sake of them the solemnities of death and eternity are forgotten.

FRIVOLITY OF MIND

IF over that little heap of dust you hold a good magnet, should there be present a nail, or a needle, or a few iron filings, they will at once spring up and cling to the attracting bar. And were there only a magnet strong enough, it might soon become the monopolist of that metal, which, after all, is more precious than silver or gold.

If now, on your coat-sleeve, or on the woollen table-cover you rub a stick of wax or amber, you impart to this substance also an attractive power. But it is a magnet of a very different sort. Hold it ever so near that knife or needle, and there is no movement. Hold it near the carpet, or, better still, insinuate it into some unswept corner, and every loose particle, the thread-clippings and paper-shavings, the stray feathers, and silky fibres, will instantly leap up to it, and convert its bald apex into a little mass of rubbish.

Some minds have a powerful affinity for what is sterling and useful. Themselves strong like the loadstone, they are constantly acquiring facts, and principles, and maxims of wisdom. They gain the respect of others. They become master-spirits, moving and controlling their fellows. If in business, they turn out successful merchants; if students, they step forth the chiefs of their profession; if thrown into public life, they graduate into the highest ranks of statesmanship, and become the moulders of an age, the disposers of an empire, the movers of mankind. But some minds have an attraction quite as intense for what is frivolous. In early life they do not "take to" tasks and lessons; and all throughout they retain the intellectual langour, which deprecates instruction and refuses to apply. Their theory of life is perpetual recreation, and ignoring the commandment which says, "Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work," they never know the sweetness of a true Sabbatic repose. Unused to self-denial, and seldom roused to exertion, if they enter business you soon hear that they have "stopped;" and in a learned profession, if they do not "stop," it is only because they never could get on.—Excelsior.