SUNDAY READING.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 231, 4 February 1911, Page 9

SUNDAY READING.

THE FAITH THAT REMOVES MOUNTAINS. (By the Rev. Frank Tamage, D.D.) According to jour faith be it unto you.—Matthew ix.-2S). We turn to my text to-day with feelings of infinite joy. When we study the assurance which Jesus Christ gave to tlie two blind men of the East, who came to Him crying, ''Thou son of David, have mercy on us; we can see Christians, as mighty reforming chieftains, going fortli to conquest, as David, the shepherd boy, went forth to overthrow the gigantic Philistine. We can see men assailed by the hosts of temptations raising high the, golden shield of faith, so that the fiery darts of Satanic attack fall to the ground with a harmless ring. 0 Faith! Thou art not a mere gospel -theory. Thou art a' mighty workman, able to graft all the powers of the supernatural into our being. Thou art the messenger ready to lift man to God and to bring God down to man. "According to your faith be it unto you," spake Christ to the blind men of old. "According to your faith be it unto you," says Christ to the men and women of the present day.

FAITH AS A HEALTH-GIVER. In order to make our subject a little more intelligible, let me remind you of the blessing of faith from a worldly or temporal standpoint. Let me illustrate my thought by the scene of my text. There is,great excitement on the outskirts of Capernaum. Christ has been working a number of miracles. The most startling of these was the raising from the dead of the daughter of the ruler Jairus. Of course, you can understand the tremendous sensation such an act caused. The people everywhere were nocking about Jesus. "NO GOOD OF YOUR SHOUTING." While the multitudes were following Him, there were two blind men by the roadside. As the crowd surges past them, their acute ears hear the commotion. "What is the matter?" they ask. "Oh," someone says, "Jesus, the worker of miracles, is passing by." "Do you believe He can open my eyes?" tremulously asks one of the blind men. "I do not know," is the reply; "you were horn blind, were you not? No one that is born blind has even 'been known to see." "Yes," says the blind men; "but did nit Christ raise the dead daughter of Jairus ? I feel, I know he can give us sight." Then the blind men, who could not sret near to Christ on account of the crow'ds, began to shout at the top of their voices: "Thou Son of David, have mercy on us." "Be quiet!" says someone; "there is no good of your shouting. Christ can do nothing for you." But still the blind men cry more vociferously: "Thou Son of David, have mercy on us." Christ hears their suppliant voices above the cheers of the multitude. He stops, and says to them practically this: i "Blind men, do you believe I am able to open your eyes?" They answer, "Yea, Lord." Thus Christ says, "According to your faith be it unto you." At first, I think, the blind men could not realise the full import of the sentence. Then a smile irradiated their features, and then the curtains of the eyelids parted, and the men saw. That was the -.. vard of their faith.

DOING THE WORK OF GIANTS. Instances of the stimulous of faith are to be seen in every walk of life. Everywhere you can see men and women of slight physical frames doing the work of giants because they have faith—triumphant faith. Here comes a frail little body like Frances E. Willard. Why, from the day that she was born she was a physical weakling. Then came the call' to the semi-invalid, to go forth as a warrior to fight the curse of the saloon. "Oh, Frances!" said her friends, "you have not the strength for a temperance crusade." But the young, frail-looking woman calmly answers: "If God calls me to this work, God will give me physical strength to do lit." Did not God give to her physical strength in proportion to her faith? I tell you that the work Frances E. Willard did was enough to break down the physical resource of a Dumas, had she not been reinforced by Divine strength. And yet that frail body went on its herculean tasks supported by faith. Open the leaves of history and what do you find? The greatest of workers have often been those who were laboring under the shadow of death. But if triumphant faith is important in reference to the physical body, how much more is it important in reference to tne mind? I force my mind to do what I believe I can do, and that, as a rule, is the limit of the achievements, no more, and generally no less. Let me here illustrate my thought by some of the homely incidents of everyday life.

HAVE FAITH IN YOURSELF. I take the train and go out to the little country town where you were born, go up the old, familiar street. We enter the old farmhouse where you were born, and I find that the son of your eldest sister, now dead, has it. I turn to him and say: "Harry, what is the good of your burying yourself alive here in the country? Why do you not get out of here and go West, or go to one of our large cities and make a name for yourself, as your Uncle Henry has done ?" The young man looks up at me and says: "Oh, I don't know. I do not believe I could do it." What is the matter with your 'nephew? He has just as much chance 1 to make a great success as you have [made. There is just one trouble; he lacks faith —faith in himself.

Suppose you have been a wayward boy. Suppose you have run away from home, ami not had any relation.? with the old homestead for months —aye, for years. Then suppose a friends meets you in a distant city, and sends back .home your address.

COME HOME! COME HOME! Then suppose your father sends you an earnest, loving letter, which goes thus: "Dear Charley,—For months and months your mother and I have been trying to find you. Under the awful strain of worry your mother has broken down. The doctors say she can only last a few weeks. Her one cry is, 'My boy! my boy! Oh, why does not my boy come home!' Come home, Charley. Come home to your mother and to me. We will forgive all, if you will only let sin alone, and come back to our love." Would you not believe your father? Would you not have faith in his forgiveness? I Would you not take the first train back to the old homestead, and throw yourj self upon your mother's sickbed, just as | you used to do when a little boy, and j cry, "Oh, mother, mother, forgive me, | mother!" If you have faith that an I earthly parent will forgive your sins, then why have you not faith in Cod? Why do you not throw yourself upon His mercy and cry: "Lord Jesus, forgive me; Lord Jesus, save me!" Ts the picture which John Bunyan drew of his pardon at the Cross of Jesus I Christ an absurdity, when he said, "So ' I saw in my dream that just as Christ J came up with the cross, his burden loosed I from off his shoulders, and fell from of! ' his back, and began to tumble till it "ame to the mouth of the sepulchre, when it fell in, and Lsaw it no more?"

NOTHING TOO GREAT FOR YOU. If the pardon of sin through the blood of the atoning Lamb is not an absurdity, why should it be an absurdity that with, God to help you there is nothing too great for you to do? We again follow the same analogy. Suppose an earthly parent should come to you and say, 'My son, I am your father. I want you to go forth on a mission in my name. All that I have shall be given to you for help. I will support you; I will protect you; I will care for you as long as you are true to me." "Why," you answer, "if my father spoke thus, I know he would spend his last coin to help me, and, if necessary, pour forth his last drop of blood for my protection." Then, my friend, if you have this faith in your earthly father's promise of help, why will you not trust your heavenly Father? Listen. I will quote to-day from Christ's very words: "If ye had faith as a, grain of mustard seed, ye might say unto this sycamore tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou placed in the sea; and it should obey you." And in Matthew we can read about the same promise where Christ says, "All things whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing ye shall receive." Oh, my brother, will you not make His supernatural power yours ? Will you not take at His word, as by faith you would accept an earthly parent's promises? But someone says to me, "I am ashamed to come to Christ. I have lived such an awful life of sin. I have neglected so many of His invitations." Ah, my friends, I am .glad to have you speak thus. Say on. Pile up your sins mountain high. Then after you had finished, I would pile your sins up higher than tne clouds. Then upon the top of these mountain ranges of sin I would place tho cross of Jesus Christ. And I would ask you this one blunt question: "Though your sins be as wide as space itself and as black as the darkest hour of the night, was not the sacrifice of the Son of God big enough to atone for them all?"