Am I Alive?

IT IS not a sufficient answer to this question for any Christian to say, “I was once converted.” Thousands were born ten years ago who are now in their coffins. There is a great difference between being “made alive” and keeping alive afterwards. Far too many professors base their hope of being Christians, not on what they now are, but on some experience during a revival season in days gone by.

Genuine conversion brings a man into a new state towards God. Old things have passed away; he is a new creature. But he must constantly encounter a strong under-current, running like a mill-race, towards the old state of corruption. No renewed heart will “keep sweet” without a great deal of salting with divine grace. No converted man will stay converted unless he takes care of himself, and the Master takes care of him. What is conversion? It is the turning of the heart to God; and unless that heart holds fast on God, and God holds fast to him, he will soon fall into vain confidence, apathy, pride, self indulgence, or any sin that “doth so easily beset “him. How long do you think that Paul would have been Paul if the power of God had not kept him, J,” exclaims the modest old Yveio — not that liveth in me.” “I live by faith on the Son of God.” Again he exclaims, “So fight I, not as one that striketh out into the air; but I keep my body under.” He uses a phrase drawn from the boxer’s contests, and the literal translation of it is, “I bruise my body — lest I myself should be a reprobate.” Paul had such a terrible dread lest his evil propensities should get the better of him, that he constantly beats down with steady and sturdy blows the unruly appetites and passions. If such was the necessity laid upon the great apostle, who of us has a right to grow foolhardy and self-confident? The moment a Christian begins to feel, “What do I care? let others be afraid- — not I;” the moment a Christian feels so he is as near to a disgraceful fall as boastful Peter was in Pilate’s hall.

But granting that you were once made alive, kind reader, are you alive to-day? If so, how shall you keep alive?

First of all coxsaf prayer the daily and hourly intercourse of the soul with God. Prayer is just as vital to my spiritual life as water is to the “monthly rose” whose leaves are now dripping from the refreshing of the pitcher. Prayer is the conduit-pipe between my soul and heaven. It is the outltt upwards for gratitude and yearning desires for blessings; it is the Met through which the supplies of grace pour downwards into the heart. When the channel is allowed to freeze up, I am in the same condition with the housekeeper who inquires, “1 “woiidx ^wy tKe E

Am I Alive?

water does not run to-day? “The plumber is sent for, and he soon explains the difficulty. “Your pipes are frozen up; the connection with the reservoir is stopped.” Alas for the Christian who has broken his connection with Christ.!

Prayer may be also likened to a telegraph with Heaven. Our messages go up with the lightning speed of thought The mercies asked for often flow down to us with the promptness apd velocity of a divine love. Sometimes the blessing sought is oiu at once. Sometimes the answer is delayed Then we can only do our duty and wait. Sometimes the reply comes in the sudden shock of an unexpected trial; it comes like a death-message Over the wires! But it is all right. God knows what answer to send. I must take what my Father chooses to give. If I put myself into connection with God, I am only responsible for this end of the celestial telegraph: not for the end that lies in the infinite bosom of love. I must receive just what God sends. “Thy will be done.” But trying messages are not so dreadful as to have the telegraph of prayer utterly out of order through long disuse, and the soul cut off from Jesus. Friend, is thy connection with the Divine Hearer and Giver broken oflf? Then to your knees! to your knees!

Prayer is appointed to convey

The blessings God designs to give:
Long as they live should Christians pray,
For only while they pray tHey Iwe’’

But with prayer the Master also coupled watchful’ ness, “I say unto you all, watch!” Never yet have I seen the Christian whose heart would not “bear watching.” The oversight must be close, constant, and wakeful. If you were set to keep a canary-bird on the open palm of your hand, you would understand what is meant by “keeping the heart with all diligence.” You must not take off the spiritual eye for one instant. Have the arm of resolution ever ready to seize it the very first moment that it attempts to fly off into sin.

“Wherefore I say unto you all, watch!” Watch the stealthy approaches of the tempter. Watch for old habits of sin that will steal back again though they have been driven off a hundred times “from the premises.” Watch over your soul’s nurseries in which the thoughts are cradled. Watch over an unruly tongue. Watch for opportunities to do good. Let the one side of your religion be ever at the feet of Jesus in humble devotion; let the other side of your piety be ever abounding in the work of the Lord. In these days we hear much about the “higher life.” The best prescription that we know of for attaining it is to use our knees for prayer, our eyes for watchfulness, our purses for liberal giving, our tongues for confessing Jesus, and both our hands in hard work to do Christ’s will, and to pull sinners out of the everlasting fires.