THE BANK OF FAITH.  GOD THE GUARDIAN OF THE POOR.

Perhaps the providence of God in supplying the wants of the poor never was more closely watched and better described than has been done by the late William Huntington, formerly a minister in London, England, who, in a book with the quaint title of the “Bank of Faith,” tells how, in his course of life, day by day the Lord guarded him, helped him, and provided for every need, even the most trifling.  It is a precious record of faith and full of true encouragement.  He answers as follows this question:  “Should we fray for temporal blessings?”

“Some have affirmed that we have no warrant to pray for temporal blessings, but, blessed be God, he has given us ’the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.’  Yea, the promise of all things pertaining to life and Godliness, and whatever God has promised we may warrantably pray for.

“Those that came to our Saviour in the days of his flesh, prayed chiefly for temporal mercies.  The blind prayed for sight, the lepers for a cure, the lame far the use of their limbs, and the deaf for the use of their ears, and surely had they prayed unwarrantably, their prayers would not have been so miraculously answered.

“Elijah prayed for a temporal mercy when he prayed for rain, and it is clear that God answered him.  Elisha works a miracle to produce a temporal mercy when he healed the barren plains of Jericho.”

Is my reader a poor Christian?  Take it patiently.  God maketh the poor as well as the rich.  Envy not the rich.  Riches are often seen to be a canker-worm at the root of a good man’s comfort, a snare in his life, an iron pillar at the back of his pride.  A gar prayed to be fed with food convenient for him, and you may pray for the same, and what God gives you in answer to your prayer you will be thankful for.

That state is surely best which keeps you dependent on God and thankful to Him, and so you shall find it to the end. Go on, poor Christian, trusting in the providence of God.

THE LIFE OF HIS CHILD SAVED.

“My eldest daughter now living fell sick at about five or six months old, and was wasted to a skeleton.  She had a doctor to attend her, but she got worse and worse.  It seemed as if God intended to bereave us of her, for he brought her even to death’s door.

“My wife and I have sat up with her night after night, watching the cradle, expecting every breath to be her last, for two or three weeks together.  At last I asked the Doctor if he thought there was any hope of her life.  He answered, no, he would not flatter me. She would surely die.

“This distressed me beyond measure, and as he told me to do no more for her, I left my room, went to my garden in the evening, and, in my little tool house, wrestled hard with God in prayer for the life of the child.