Leaning On A Broken Reed.


YEARS ago, when taking the first lessons

in reading, a short story something like the

following fixed itself in my mind:

A youth in wandering through the fields

came to a stream of water which he desired

to cross. It was too deep to wade, and the

banks were so far asunder that he could not

leap across without a staff to lean upon. Looking

about, he found something which he

thought would answer his purpose, and placing

it in the bed of the stream, he threw his

whole weight upon it, at the same time springing

with all his might, thinking thus to plant his

feet firmly upon the opposite bank. Imagine

his consternation when instead, he found

himself buried in the water. Upon examination,

he found the cause of his mishap the

staff upon which he had leaned was nothing

but a stalk of elder; good enough for making

pin boxes perhaps, but very treacherous

in this case, as you see.

So much like this is the danger of a man

whom I saw the other day, that I wish to

speak of it, as others may be in the same

 condition of mind or trusting in the same false

hope. A Jew peddler passing through

Cottrellville called upon a family on the Sabbath

to show and sell his goods. The lady

told him it was the Sabbath, and that she did

not wish to trade. He acknowledged it to be

true, and said he believed it. "Why don't

you keep it, then?" the lady asked. Said he,

"I am poor. When I get rich, then I will

keep the Sabbath." "Suppose you should

die before you get rich?" questioned the lady.

"Oh!" he answered, "I will repent just before

I die." "But," continued the questioner, desirous

that he should see the folly of his reasoning,

"You may lose your life suddenly;

what then?" "Oh!" said he, "I should feel

very sorry, then," and hastened away.

How much is this man like the youth who

trusted his whole weight to a stalk of elder,

and how many there are among the children

and youth, who thus rest on a false foundation,

an easily broken reed. We will repent,

say they, just before we die. Well, today is

your own. We have no promise of tomorrow.

Tomorrow may be too late. Then

repent today, and let Jesus' blood wash all

your sins away. 




D. H. LAMSON.