July 8

"Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out."—John 6:37.

O WIDE and measureless love of Christ! There is nothing in the earth or sky or sea to rival it.

It matters not from what quarter I may come. No longer from Jerusalem and Olivet alone does the way ascend to heaven. "From Morven's heath and Jungfrau's snow," from Russian steppe and Burmese valley, from the Arctic ice and the African forest, the soul finds its road to Jesus. The love of the Saviour has room in it for the whole world—for a thousand worlds as vast and as evil as this.

And it matters not with what burden I may come. Let it be, that no one has ever sinned quite so darkly as I have done, against such light, with such aggravation; let it be that others will have nothing whatever to do with me; still He will welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve. He is the Helper of the helpless, the Physician not of the dying only but of the dead.

And it matters not at what hour I may come. It is best assuredly, for me, for Him, for all, that I should come in the morning, when life is young. But at noonday, in the evening, at midnight, His doors stand open still, and yet there is room in His home and His heart. When I have wearied out all other friends, when I am repulsed from all other gates, His gate is wide, His friendship is within my reach.

"Here," said the Pilgrim, "is a poor burdened sinner, fleeing from the City of Destruction, but going to Mount Zion; I would therefore, Sir, know if you are willing to let me in." And the Man at the Gate, the Porter whose name is Goodwill, made answer, "I am willing with all my heart."