Nothing But Leaves.

"AND when he saw a fig tree in the way,

he came to it, and found nothing thereon,

but leaves only, and said unto it, Let no

fruit grow on thee henceforward forever.

And presently the fig tree withered away."

Matthew 21:19.

As Jesus saw the fig tree spreading out

its branches, and looking so luxuriant, he

came to it, expecting to find fruit thereon;

but he searched in vain. No fruit was to be

found; nothing but leaves.

Some of us are like this tree. We do not

bear fruit; that is, our lives are not filled up

with deeds of kindness. We do not live to

do good to others, to glorify the name of

God. We may profess to be Christians, we

may attend Sabbath-school and meeting on

the Sabbath; yet this alone is not Christianity.

The fig tree had all the appearance

of being a thrifty, fruit-bearing tree; but

when the Saviour came to search for fruit,

he found none. So with us; when search is

made for fruit, there is nothing but leaves.

Said the Saviour, "It is your Father's good

pleasure that ye bear much fruit."

As the fig tree withered away, so we will

wither and die spiritually, unless we work

for Jesus unless our lives are filled up with

useful deeds. And in the day of God's

wrath, when the wicked are consumed, we

shall perish with them.

Let us, dear young friends, be living

branches of the Vine, workers in the cause

of Christ, that when he comes, he may find

a rich harvest of golden fruit.

"Nothing but leaves, the spirit grieves

Over a wasted life;

O'er sins indulged while conscience slept,

O'er vows and promises unkept,

And reap from years of strife

Nothing but leaves.

"Nothing but leaves, no gathered sheaves

Of life's fair, ripening grain;

We sow our seeds, lo! tares and weeds,

Words, idle words for earnest deeds,

We reap with toil and pain

Nothing but leaves.

"Nothing but leaves, and memory weaves

No veil to hide the past,

And as we trace our weary way,

Counting each lost and misspent day,

Sadly we find at last

Nothing but leaves.

"Ah! Who shall thus the Master meet,

Bearing but withered leaves?

Ah! Who shall at the Saviour's feet,

Before the awful judgment-seat,

Lay down for golden sheaves

Nothing but leaves?"


Battle Creek, Mich.

Love at Home.

GIVE me that sweet influence of a home

full of love. When wearied with life's cares,

what soothes us like a welcome to such a

home full of that heavenly blessing? Peacefully

flows the stream of life on its onward

course. The winds and storms ruffle it not

when love dwells within the hearts of all

that form, the home circle. Home is one of

the sweetest words because of the heavenly

influence it sheds over its possessors, and

their associates cannot but partake of the

sweets of its influence.

A love for the beautiful is ennobling, and

leads our minds upward till we soar from the

fading vanities below, and our thoughts

dwell upon those holy enjoyments in store

for those who love that heavenly home.

There is love unfading that knows no end.

No harsh words there ever greet the ear, nor

will we ever be pained with the harsh look

that cuts deeper and wounds the heart.

But the purest love is a deep, unchanging

love for God. So dear are we to him,

fallen as we are, that he could part with his

well-beloved Son, that we might be possessors

of that divine love and become more

like him; that we might be fitted to surmount

all the storms of life's tempestuous

ocean, and land our bark safely beyond all

danger of wreck.

Children, do you want that love to aid

you while enduring the trials that children

have while trying to gain that eternal haven?

Seek it from Him who is all love, and is willing

to impart to you that heavenly gift which,

if cherished and nourished, will lead you

safely through. 


Battle Creek Michigan

The Only One Alive.

LITTLE Harry was sweetly sleeping. He

knew not that his mother was absent that

evening and had left him in my care. He

had played so hard during the day that I

had no fear of his waking to cry for his

mother. While I sat sewing, I thought of

the little ones that had been taken from these

parents and laid in the grave. So I opened

the good book and looked at their names

recorded there, saying, The only one alive

is little Harry, the pet of his parents. Ah!

thought I, sad indeed for them if called to

record his death also. But, dear readers,

Harry only lived one more day and night,

and then he died of congestion of the brain.

I need not tell you how much we miss him

or how sad we feel; but I wish to remind you

that we, too, may die very suddenly, or the

Lord may soon come and find us unprepared

for his coming and his kingdom. Let us

give the Lord our whole hearts. We may

be his children, and have eternal life. I

plead that we may fear God. The fear of

the Lord is to hate evil. Proverbs 8:13. Fear

God, and keep his commandments.