Faithful Sayings


being a reprint of some of the writings of
Colonel Sydney Long Jacob, R.E., C.I.E. (1845-1911)
and a selection from notes taken of addresses given by him
together with a short sketch of his Life.
London: The Central Bible Truth Depot, 12 Paternoster Row, E.C.
India: Walter Saunders, Bible Truth Depot, Landour, Mussoorie, U.P.

Contents

Part 1 (This file)

Preface
Biographical outline
Apples of Gold
Eternal Life (Poetry)

Part 2 Addresses

The Love of God
The Spirit Characteristically
The Importance of Present Blessing
Prophecy and the Day Star
God's Delight in Blessing
The House of God
Freedom
Rich and Poor
Joy
The Marks of a True Teacher Sent from God

Part 3. Collected Writings

Fasting
Thy Brother for whom Christ Died
To Labour in Vain
Women and Children not Counted
The Two Ideals
Omission
Service
Ambition
Vain Religion
Imperialism and Socialism
The Losing Side
The Difficulties of Unbelief
On Giving
What is a Christian?

Preface

At the earnest request of many, who knew and loved my father, and who have been encouraged and strengthened by the ministry, which God was pleased to give him, some of his writings have been collected and reprinted in this volume, together with a short sketch of his life written by one intimately acquainted with him in later years and greatly beloved.

The chapter headed "Apples of Gold," written also by an old friend, is reprinted here by kind permission as representative of the feelings of many, who had the privilege of knowing my father.

Suffice it to say that it is desired by this means in some small measure the worthy name of our Lord Jesus Christ may be magnified. Expression is given to this desire by the pen of the Apostle Peter in the precious words of the Holy Scriptures:
"I stir up your pure minds by way of remembrance."

And
"Moreover I will endeavour that ye may be able after my decease to have these things always in remembrance."

Look not on the servant, but on his Lord and Master, and happy, indeed, will be his portion if it remains his privilege, though dead yet to speak, and so to stand continually as a sign-post on the road pointing the way to the true and only Source and Fountain of Life and Light until the day dawn and the shadows flee away.

To the tender mercy of our God is this volume humbly committed with the desire that His blessing may rest upon it.

A. Jacob.

Biographical Outline

In issuing the following selections from the ministry of the late Col. Jacob, it is thought that a brief sketch of this beloved servant's life will be interesting to the reader.

The materials for this sketch are largely of his own gathering, being taken from a booklet which he published when retiring from Government service in the year 1900. A few other details have, however, come to hand, and, of course, the particulars of the last ten years of his life are altogether independent of that aid.

Sydney Long Jacob was the son of the then Capt. Jacob, of the Bombay army, and was born in July, 1845, at Ahmednagar, in India. With others of the family, he was sent to England in 1851, when quite a child, and placed in the care of relatives, who, after a short interval, took their young charges to Lyme Regis, in Dorset, where the eldest three children went to school. After a few years Sydney, the subject of this memoir, in company with his elder brother, was transferred to a school at St. Albans, and then to one at Taunton.

Later on, in 1858, Capt. and Mrs. Jacob left India, and settled in England. Their son was thus able to live once more under the home roof at Bath, attending Lansdowne College as a day scholar. The head master was a clergyman, and with him young Jacob soon became a favourite. Already he showed signs of that energy and remarkable intellectual ability, which distinguished him in after life. Already, too, it would seem that some thoughts other than those of the hour presented themselves at times to his mind, but in the one thing needful the head master was himself deficient, and could give him no help.

At the age of fifteen he was confirmed. He records that he was "a good deal awed at the Confirmation service and made many mental resolutions" of future good conduct.

Pre-eminence soon marked him, and, as after-events proved, consistently abode with him. Both in the schoolroom and the playground he became acknowledged leader, so that it is not surprising to be told that, two years later, in 1862, he went up to Woolwich, there to be initiated into the early stages of what was to prove his secular career.

Of his opening experiences at Woolwich we may best let him speak in his own words:

"The Royal Academy was not a pleasant place for the newly joined, as one great amusement of the older cadets was to get as much fun as possible out of the last joined, by playing all kinds of tricks on them, often in very rough and unpleasant ways. It was therefore a very pleasant surprise when a senior cadet and corporal came up to me one day, and spoke to me in a friendly manner, saying I might look on him as a friend. He ended by asking me to go to a meeting held by the Chaplain that evening. I was so touched by his friendliness that I promised to go and went. I do not think that there was anything in what was said of a character to help me, but, feeling rather homeless and lonely, my heart was tender, and I made up my mind to turn to God, and though I was in gross darkness, and did not in the least understand the heart and mind of God, I believe God had touched my heart and was drawing me to Himself. . . .

From that night I began to pray again, for I had given up the prayers taught me in childhood, and again began to read the neglected Bible. I tried hard to be good, thinking that when I was changed God would have mercy upon me, but I found that sin was too strong for me. I cried to God for help, but I seemed only to grow worse and more powerless, and sin had dominion over me, though before men I had an unblemished reputation. Sometimes I thought I had not prayed enough, sometimes that I did not read my Bible enough, and so on, but nothing did me any good. Sometimes I would drop the effort in despair, or sometimes forget all in worldliness, but then the desire would revive again."

As we read this fragment of autobiography may we not say in the words of Scripture, "As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man."

But his spiritual struggles did not diminish the young cadet's keenness in his profession, nor his diligence and ability in mastering it. Faithful to the promise of his schooldays he became the leading cadet at Woolwich, won the Pollock Gold Medal, the Sword of Honour for good conduct, and many other prizes, eventually passing out not only first, but nearly four thousand marks ahead of the second on the list. As captain also of the football team, and winner of the cup for racquets, he showed that his religious exercises were neither the puerilities of a fool, nor the dreams of a morbid recluse.

He obtained his commission in the Royal Engineers in February, 1866, and proceeded to Chatham for his two years' course. There he soon found out the Christian officers, both senior and junior, and attended the meetings held in each other's rooms for reading the Scriptures. But his struggles continued; he seemed to get further and further from the object of his desires until he became quite hopeless. For a whole year this was his unhappy experience; discouraged and baffled in all his efforts to attain real happiness, it seemed that he must give all up and make himself as happy as he could in worldly ways.

"The darkest hour is just before the dawn," and the dawn of a brighter day for our beloved friend was just about to break after this night of sadness and growing darkness. We will again let him tell his own tale:

". . . One evening in January, 1867, when sitting in my room by my fireside, and thinking sadly of these things, suddenly it came to me, Why, what a fool you are, you are trying to do what no man has done or can do, viz.: to make yourself good, in hopes that God will accept you; do you not know that Christ died for sinners, yea for sinners?

In a moment the gloom was gone. I knew that all was done. I had nothing to do, for my sinfulness was my claim, all else was effected by Christ on my behalf when He died on the Cross and then rose from the dead. I believed, my sins were forgiven, the judgment of God had passed for me in the death of Christ. I was justified by faith. I had peace with God by our Lord Jesus Christ. I had the present favour of God for my portion, and rejoiced in the hope of the glory of God. What a change, what joy, what blessedness, and in a moment this had transpired. Outwardly nothing had changed, but in reality all was changed, for the light of God's love had broken in upon me, and I knew that God was for me. . . ."

Such was dear Colonel Jacob's "conversion," and for a time his joy and blessing were great. Both at Chatham and afterwards at Plymouth and Weston-Super-Mare, he entered heartily and decidedly into Christian work, finding his happiness in fellowship with other earnest Christians. Whenever he went home, too, he used to read the Scriptures with his brothers and sisters, and speak to them about the things of God, and his friends remember how at once he sought to give up what was not according to God's will. While engaged on fortification work at Steep Holme, an island in the Bristol Channel, he asked guidance from the Lord as to what he should do, and then used to go to that little island from Saturdays to Mondays in order to hold services for the men engaged on the works.

During the year 1868, however, the joy of his conversion appears to have waned somewhat, and he tells us he was "more often overcome than before by sin." But before proceeding to relate his further spiritual experiences it may be well here to summarise briefly his secular career, as the reader will then be able to follow more intelligently what is subsequently narrated.

At the latter end of 1868 he sailed for India, and was posted to the Public Works Department, first in Poona, then in Bombay, and afterwards in the Punjab. There he was transferred to the Irrigation Department, and in this branch of the Service, save for the last three years, he spent the rest of his official career. In due course he had charge of each of the five circles, or districts, into which the Irrigation Department at that time was divided. He also saw service in the Afghan War, 1879-80, acting as Field-Engineer in the Khyber Pass. In 1897 he became Chief Engineer and Secretary to Government in the Buildings and Roads Branch of the Public Works Department, Punjab, remaining in this position until his retirement in July, 1900, occasioned by his having reached the age limit.

As to his commanding ability, the following Indian Press reference where, of course, his work is best known, will be read with interest. After speaking of the promise of his early years it proceeds:

"Human nature is ever full of contradictions: and modest and retiring as Col. Jacob always was as far as his own merits were concerned, no officer was ever more vigorous and forceful and pushing in official policy.

A born engineer, a natural and skilled mathematician, a writer, who expressed himself with fluency in trenchant sentences conveying no uncertain meaning: a worker of extraordinary rapidity and decision of mind, he will be remembered for the farsightedness of his views, and the courage with which he cut straight to the heart of any question before him."

Again, at the time when the South-East Punjab was visited by its greatest famine, it was Col. Jacob who directed the relief operations of that time, and how ably he did so is shown by the remarks of the Lieutenant-Governor in his review:

"he [Col. Jacob] devoted signal zeal, ability, and energy to the organisation of relief works. He was indefatigable in his attention to the control of the works, and his direction of them was marked by deep sympathy with the distressed, as well as by care for the interests of the State."

In 1869 he was married, at Bombay, to Elizabeth Petronella Selby, a lady who proved a true helpmeet in the years that followed, and whose sympathy and hearty co-operation with her husband in the Lord's service only ceased with her life. She always accompanied him in his yearly visits to India after his retirement, and shared with him, too, the labour and discomforts of the long journeys to out-of-the-way places, undertaken for the help of native Christians. During one of these yearly visits she was taken ill, and fell asleep in Jesus at the house of her married daughter at Cawnpore, January 17th, 1910.

Returning now to the spiritual exercises which Col. Jacob passed through in his earlier years, we have seen that towards the end of the year 1868 his joy appeared to wane. His transference to India did not mend matters in this respect. He did not get on as a Christian, but slowly drifted backwards, struggling hard, yet losing ground. The things of this life, he records, became entwined round his soul, and he did not see the truth of the words,

"The flesh profiteth nothing." As to this period of his life he says

"I was making the very same mistake in the pursuit of holiness that I did before in the pursuit of forgiveness and justification: that is, I was seeking to do my best with Christ's help, instead of letting Him do the whole in complete dependence. Thus I went back and back, got unhappy, sought pleasure in the world, and finally gave up prayer, and tried to forget the things of eternity by enjoying the things of time: but a child of God cannot get happiness thus, and I was really miserable."

This experience of religious drift and deterioration was a long as well as a sad one. It would seem that it lasted until 1880, at the beginning of which year he was transferred, in his official duties, to Ferozepur, and there came in contact with several Christian men. But it was not to men that he was to be indebted for his full deliverance; like his conversion, this was to be effected, independently of human instruments, by the power of the Spirit of God. In later years Col. Jacob was in the habit of referring to the incident about to be narrated as the time when he came into full spiritual liberty. Once, when conversing with the writer, he asked, somewhat abruptly, "Have you received the second blessing?" The reply took the form of a look indicating doubt, and, possibly, a little shyness of a phrase connected with a particular school of Christian thought. "Well, call it what you will," said he, and then he went on to refer to that FACT "over twenty years ago," which had left such a permanent mark on his own spiritual life. This is how he describes what took place at Ferozepur at the time referred to (1880 or 1881):

"I was conscious that God was working with me, and became more unhappy. I had been in Ferozepur about a year when one day I was reading a sermon out loud. I have no notion what it was about, but I read these verses, "What king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand? Or else, while the other is yet a great way off, he sendeth an embassage, and desireth conditions of peace" (Luke 14:31, 32). The thought rushed irresistibly into my mind — "God has not twenty thousand, but myriads of myriads. I have not ten thousand, but am one poor sinful person alone. I must just surrender at discretion, and cast myself on His mercy." In a moment it was done, even while my voice faltered not in reading, and I knew I was restored and brought into favour. On what ground? The ground of my exceeding sinfulness, and God's exceeding grace, in virtue of the work of the Lord Jesus Christ.

The insuperable difficulties were no longer insuperable, the obstacles, which seemed like great mountains barring my path, melted away, the seemingly impossible became possible."

Did this happiness pass away? Listen to our brother's own testimony:

"I was free, and since then my life for more than twenty years has been a very happy one, though many doubtless think that they would be miserable, if they led such a life, but this is only because of unbelief."

It will be readily understood that if, when he was not yet in Christian liberty, his zeal and energy in the Lord's service were marked features of his character, these distinguished him no less after the emancipating experience which has just been narrated. Wherever his official duties carried him there also was to him a sphere for witnessing for his Saviour and Lord, and for helping spiritually those around him. For many a year he always had a little service in camp on Sunday afternoons, attended, as a rule, by all the officers, both those over as well as those under him. In the same way he held meetings for the natives, and, with respect to these, it was only two or three years ago that our brother was much cheered by a young native, the grandson of one of the servants, telling him that he had listened to his addresses as a boy, the truth of them had since come home to him, he had come to Christ, and had been baptised (a momentous act for an Indian). He appeared to be leading a consistent Christian life. Col. Jacob maintained, too, the wholesome custom of family prayers, whether in station or in camp, thus creating an atmosphere of piety in the daily round seldom found under similar circumstances.

That there was opposition goes without saying, but Col. Jacob has himself stated that it was very little, and, on the part of the Government, none at all. On the other hand, the life of practical godliness, which he led, unostentatious but real, won for him the respect of his associates. This, coupled, as it was, with an honest desire, and active endeavour to further the welfare of others, which is inseparable from true piety, produced for him feelings of esteem and affection on the part of the men in his department, which were indicated by the letters he received when the time came for his retirement.

Reference may well be made here to another field of service in which Col. Jacob actively engaged. This was the native element in India. Not only were Europeans sought and ministered to in spiritual things; the Indians themselves also found in our brother a sincere friend and active helper. He laid himself out very much on their behalf. He knew several Hindustani dialects and spoke them with the greatest ease and fluency. In fact, he has been known at morning readings to pray in Hindustani without himself being aware that he was doing so! He translated a great many hymns, and also composed many more, the hymn-book now used in some native Indian meetings being the result of his labours. He also wrote several books and tracts in the vernacular. But, above and beyond all this, he zealously mixed with all classes of Indians, speaking with them face to face, thus acquiring first hand an intimate knowledge of the native character and standpoint, and he was thereby able, by the grace of God, and his clear, quick brain, to meet the more intricate questions and difficulties of the educated native gentlemen, and then to open up the way to a simple unfolding of the gospel.

The severance of Col. Jacob's official connection with India did not weaken his interest in the spiritual needs of that vast country. He made a practice of visiting it each year, and spending some months in travelling about amongst the various centres where meetings could be held, or intercourse with individuals profitably carried on. This work proved to be most arduous, and our beloved brother did not spare himself wherever, as it appeared to him, there was a need or an opportunity for presenting Christ. On the many voyages to and fro, which were thus necessitated, he had daily Bible readings on board ship, as well as individual talks with his fellow-travellers, etc.

Another work in which Col. Jacob was keenly interested was the little famine colony at Panahpur, in the north of India. Needless to say, as he was chiefly responsible for its establishment, so he watched over it with constant care, devoting his engineering skill to the reclamation and irrigation of the land, and exercising loving supervision over the spiritual welfare of the boys and girls, whom he had rescued in the first instance from death by famine, and who are now growing up to manhood and womanhood. He has not lived to see the complete carrying out of the scheme he originally formulated, but during his lifetime he was careful to associate others with himself in the general oversight, and in their hands, with God's blessing, it is hoped that the Colony will eventually prove self-supporting.

During the ten years, which have elapsed since Col. Jacob retired from the service of the Crown, he has made his home at Highbury, and has engaged in the work of the ministry at various places in London and in the provinces. Himself strongly imbued with the missionary spirit, and with no small amount of practical missionary experience, his house has been a centre where homecomers from the mission field have ever found a ready welcome, and where they have found, too, valuable help and advice derived from his own ripe experience.

In addition to his public ministry, our brother will be gratefully remembered by many, who had the privilege of being visited by him in their own homes. Anxious to turn all forms of service to account, he diligently practised this one, and always having the Lord's things before him, rather than ordinary topics of conversation, he afforded much instruction and comfort in these face-to-face talks. He would almost invariably conclude such visits with prayer, and many have testified since his departure that it is these prayers, which stand out in their memories as specially distinguishing his personal intercourse with them.

In January, 1911, Col. Jacob left Cawnpore on a long missionary tour. He then appeared in his usual health. The journey and accompanying experiences proved unusually trying, and when he arrived at Yercand, a hill station in the south of India, he was found to be suffering from an overstrain of the heart, and complete rest was ordered. After a week's stay the journey was continued to Coimbatore, where two meetings were held, and to Ootacamund, where he was only equal to holding a few drawing-room meetings. Then he turned his face homewards, travelling to Bombay via Coimbatore and Bangalore. He embarked for England, under the care of relatives, on March 27th, and arrived safely in this country on April 12th. But his work was done; the Lord had need of His faithful servant, and after a lingering illness, borne with the same quietness of spirit as that, which had for so long characterised him, he was "put to sleep by Jesus" on July 28th, 1911.

This brief sketch of Col, Jacob's life would be indeed incomplete, if no mention were made of the lowly spirit, which consistently animated him. This was a distinguishing trait of his character. It is seldom that such a complete absence of all pretension, such readiness to give way on purely personal matters, such an entire laying out of one's self for the welfare of others are found united with such natural energy, and commanding mental ability. We refer particularly to the last ten years of his life when, possibly, this Christian grace had become habitual through the maturing and ripening of his character under prolonged spiritual influences. Be that as it may, the spirit of meekness and gentleness (that "fruit of the Spirit," Gal. 5:22, 23) will always be associated with Col. Jacob in the minds of those, who knew him, and will constitute a precious memory, which we trust will yet bear more fruit to the Lord's glory in those, who seek to profit by his example.

As an instance of this lowliness of spirit, the following incident, which occurred during his last illness, may be narrated. He was exceedingly fond of the English collection of hymns composed by Tersteegen, Suso, and others, and often quoted them. One day, as he lay upon his death-bed, he asked his daughter to fetch the volume, and to read to him the poem entitled "The Border of His Sanctuary,"* commencing with the last part of the sixth verse:
"Shame — that all that desert journey
   Nothing more could prove
 Than the marvels of His patience,
   How divine His love.

"Tale of weakness, sin, and folly,
   Tale of wandering feet —
 Tale of strength, and grace, and wisdom,
   Victory complete.

 Sin and death and Satan trodden
   'Neath those feet at length,
 In the glory of HIS triumph
   Greatness of His strength."

{*The whole poem should be read to properly enter into our brother's feelings.}

Col. Jacob here said, referring to his past service, "This is my side." Then he continued by quoting from memory the first part of the sixth verse:
"Not our sorrow we remember,
   All is lost in bliss —
 But our shame gives deeper sweetness
   To the Father's kiss."

We may conclude this brief outline of Col. Jacob's life by repeating the substance of an address given in Abney Park Cemetery on July 31st, 1911, when the body of our beloved brother was committed to the grave. The incidents recorded form a striking illustration of his habit, his readiness to make every circumstance serve as an occasion for speaking a word for his Master, and at the same time they may constitute an appeal to us (though he himself has gone from our midst), which he would desire should be ever present to our hearts.

This is what was said, after a few introductory remarks:

. . . As I looked into the grave just now, my thoughts were carried back about twenty-five years, when our brother had a very serious illness in India. During his convalescence he wrote me a letter, the spirit of which made a mark on my soul then, and I pray God that it may never leave me. That letter seemed to come from one, who had been to the gates of the grave, to whom the Lord had given "a fresh lease of life," as we say; and who had come back with a firm determination to spend that restored life entirely for Christ. How faithfully he fulfilled that determination is well known to all, especially those, who knew him in India, where Christianity has to be lived under adverse circumstances, which are unknown in this privileged country. I often think it is easy to sit at home, at a comfortable fireside, and legislate as to how the Lord's servants should carry on their service; but did we know the vicissitudes of their service, we would pray for them more, and criticise them less.

One sentence in that letter has helped me often during the past twenty-five years; and it is that sentence, which I specially wish to pass on to my YOUNGER brethren. It ran thus:

"Soon every opportunity of following and serving a rejected Christ will have passed and gone for ever. Oh! that, while we have the opportunity, we might seize it, and use it for His glory, who loved us, and gave Himself for us."

His opportunity has passed, and gone for ever. How well he used it we can testify with deep thankfulness to God. Yours and mine remain. The question is — What are we going to do with it? Are we going to use the remainder of our very short lives for His glory, who loved us, and gave Himself for us?

This carries me on to about twenty-five years later — a few months ago, when I had the privilege of entertaining our beloved brother at my house. On the morning of his departure he stood with his Bible clasped to his breast with both hands, and after looking at me intently for a moment or so, he said, in his usual blunt style:

"How old are you?"

"Close on fifty," was my reply.

"Well," he continued, "to look at you, humanly speaking, you have about twenty-five years to live, what are you going to do with them?"

Yes! that is the question. What are we going to do with those few short years during which the Lord may leave us down here, should He tarry?

As I look into this open grave the words in that letter seem to come home with greater power than ever to my soul. I think of the twenty-five years during which he himself carried out, in a life of devotedness to Christ, the desire he so beautifully expressed in that sentence. I pass it on to my younger brethren with the earnest prayer that it may be made, through God's grace, even a greater blessing to their souls than it has been to mine.

"Soon every opportunity of following and serving a rejected Christ will have passed and gone for ever. Oh! that, while we have the opportunity, we may seize it and use it for His glory, who loved us, and gave Himself for us."

Apples of Gold

"A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver."

Prov. 25:11.

In the following notes I have wished to recall some of dear Col. Jacob's words, in the hope that, with the Lord's gracious blessing, they may bring to some other heart a little of the light and gladness they have been to my own. The verse above seems just to describe them; they were indeed fitly spoken, spoken in season, and how good they were! It is not difficult to repeat his words, many of them long treasured, but I am sadly conscious how little I can give the impression of his spirit, or of the wonderful grace of his lowly, gentle, presence; as a youth where he stayed expressed it, "There is a savour left in the house after he has gone."

The first time I saw him was at a prayer-meeting. He did not speak till late in the evening; then he knelt and said, "O God, we do thank Thee that we are so exceedingly dear to Thee." There was more which I do not remember, but those opening words were to me like the key to his life and ministry. He was then just returning to India; but some months later I had the privilege of meeting and hearing him, publicly and privately, and the theme of his teaching was constantly "God loves you so much, He longs to bless you, He wants to make you happy, it is your own will that is all the trouble"; and one night, at the end of his address, he asked, "Will you put yourself unreservedly into God's hands? All you have and are? Your health? Your strength? Your usefulness?"

"Your usefulness!" That was the hardest of all; but to one of his hearers, at least, that was the beginning of a new life.

Once he told me how, as a young man, he wanted to understand the Bible, and to know more of God's ways, and he thought if he read the "Synopsis" he would know a good deal; so he bought the books, and read them through. "And then at the end," he said, "I had just to say, 'O my Father, I am only a poor, stupid child, Thou must teach me.'" He did not undervalue "helps," but he had learned that they could not take the place of the soul's learning with God.

He dreaded souls being led by others, and not having to do with God for themselves. "In the last resort," he said, "the appeal must ever be between the soul and God." I remember his saying once very solemnly, "If you believe God has taught you anything, you are bound to act on it, no matter what any one may say. If you are mistaken, He will put you right."

He deplored assumption and the use of the terms of so-called high truth without there being real soul apprehension of them; he said, "We are like little children playing at being grown-up men and women." He grieved over the disagreements among Christians. "There is so much to humble us," he would say, "the people who are most right will be partly in the wrong, and there will be some good even in those who are wrong."

He loved to recognise the good in others. "The youngest and feeblest Christian," he said, "knows something of God that I do not know, and I should be able to learn from him." Again, he said, "When you meet a Christian, do not begin upon the points on which you differ, see how far you can go together." "It is so different in India," he would say; "there you may be miles and miles away from all Christian fellowship, and perhaps in some lonely place you hear of one Christian. You do not begin by asking if he is with you as to outward fellowship; you are so rejoiced to meet him at all." He had been speaking to an Indian Christian about trusting God, and the native asked, "Sahib, have you ever gone without food?" He could not remember that he ever had. Said the Indian, "I was once three days without food." He said he felt this dear man had learned some lessons which he knew nothing of. He would tell of another native who prayed for some breakfast, but who said, "God did not send me any breakfast, but He sent such joy into my soul that I prayed, 'O God, send me many such breakfasts.'"

Speaking of our ways with children and young people, he once said, "There has often to be a kind of compromise; it sounds bad, but yet it seems to me this is how God deals with us, waiting so patiently while we learn, and bearing with our ignorance and folly."

He had such a wise, tactful way with strangers. I remember an unconverted husband and wife very much afraid he might speak to them about their souls, and ready to parry him at every point. He did not attack them, but spoke of India and what was generally interesting, till presently he asked, "Did you ever hear of Chundra Lela?" And he told so simply of her efforts to find peace with God in the rites of her cruel religion that, before they were aware of it, they were listening without resentment to the presentation of the Gospel.

Another time it was a lady troubled with infidel thoughts; but he seemed to see what the real difficulty was, and dealt faithfully with her about her sins and her state before God.

Then a little maid, recently converted, asked him about a Scripture that had puzzled her; and, after answering her question, he asked, "Would you go into a shop and pay a sovereign for something that was only worth a shilling?" "No, sir," she said. "Then if you paid a sovereign for anything it would be because you wanted it very much?" "Yes, sir." "Tell me, then, what did God give for you and me?" Wonderingly, she replied, "His Son, sir." And he said, "And don't you think God must have wanted us very much to give such a Gift for us?"

Again, I remember his trying to explain the difference between the work of the Lord on high and the work of the Holy Spirit in the soul, and using the illustration of a camera. The sun illustrates the Lord up there, and the Holy Spirit works in the heart to make an impression there, just as the sensitised plate in the camera receives the picture the sun makes.

I had been ill, and Col. Jacob came to visit me, and after a few sympathizing words, such as he knew so well how to speak, he said, "Well, you know, there has to be winter as well as summer." I think I answered that it had hardly been winter with me, and he said so brightly, "Ah! that will do; if you will only let God have His way with you, He will make you so happy you cannot contain yourself."

Twice he came to a London hotel, and after a helpful talk in a quiet corner, he said, "No one will mind, we will just have a word of prayer," and, bowing his head, he prayed just there. It seemed quite natural in him, but I do not think many could do it.

"In times of trial and sorrow," he once said, "it is not sufficient that the soul bows under God's hand; there must be exercise to understand what His meaning is in it — what is it He would teach me through this sorrow?" One day he asked me, "Has your soul had a mother?" I said I thought not, and he said, "But see what you have missed; God says He pities like a father and comforts like a mother. "Which is the happiest day in your life?" he would ask; and the various answers all being wrong, he would say, "To-day; because you know God better to-day than ever before."

He loved the Gospel of John, and often spoke of it. He pointed out that the miracles there are different from all others, in that they are signs. There are seven, besides the one in the last chapter, which is a kind of postscript to the Gospel. "In them," he would say, "the Lord is dealing with the hindrances to the enjoyment of life," and he would instance the fever — the restlessness of nature, and the impotent man — the weakness of nature, etc. Once he said, "It was possible to live and die; here, and go to heaven at last, and never to have lived as Scripture speaks of living." I remember he said, "In the epistle to the Romans you do not get life in this sense, only if you mortify the deeds of the body you shall live."

"What is the dawn of life consciously in the soul?" I asked him. He spoke of a child. "There was a time when that child only slept and ate, but one day it looked up in your face and smiled, and you saw it knew you. It is like that with the soul. For a time it can do little but rest and feed; and then there comes a moment when it looks up to God for the first time in the sweet consciousness, 'I am known, I am loved.' Who was the more glad the day the child knew you, you or the child?" "I." "Yes; and who has the greater joy when you look up to God in the consciousness of being known and loved?" Oh! the surpassing sweetness of that thought. May my soul ever cherish it!

The last time I saw him we had spoken of "abiding in Christ," and he went to have a season of prayer before going out to give an address. Just as he was leaving he said, "Here is another little thought for you about 'abiding in Christ.' I think it is like rhythm. You know, if you place a B and a C tuning-fork on the piano, if you touch the note B the B fork vibrates, and the C is silent; while if you strike the note C, the C fork vibrates and the B is silent. It should be thus with us — our souls should vibrate in response to the Lord, in harmony with him."

Long ago, when I knew him first, we had been speaking of "reconciliation," and he unfolded it a little, and then went on to dwell on his favourite theme — the blessedness of being brought near to God, in the conscious present enjoyment of His love, and of doing His will "always," as he said, "the very best for us"; and, with the glow of his words upon me, I expressed the desire that I might be in this path of knowing God's love and doing His will alone. And he said, so tenderly, "But are you prepared for it? It will not make you persona grata here, be sure of that." His own path was but the proof of it, a path, he would have said, I know, of infinite compensations, but one of deepest sorrow and misapprehension. And I pass on his warning. His own testimony as to his life was: "It has been one long story of my failure, but of God's faithfulness." What of ours, if this were his?

He sent a last loving message to some Christians who were gathered for a Conference "Looking back from the gate of the grave, he had nothing to take back of what he had taught, he sent them his love, and besought them to love their Bibles, and to love one another."

His last few weeks, as most know, were spent in great weakness and weariness, all borne without a murmur. He would say often, "It is all peace, perfect peace." At first when he could bear it, he would have a portion of Scripture read to him, and one of Tersteegen's beautiful hymns which he had long loved. Thus he passed peacefully away, to be for ever with the Lord, with whom he had walked and communed here. And now that his fragrant and fruitful life has been taken from us, we can only give thanks that he is gone where there are no misunderstandings. We miss him here, oh! so much, but rejoice that he is transplanted to the place where the river from which he lived here flows in all its glorious fulness.

Eternal Life

The following lines, which were much loved by Col. Jacob, are reprinted here as expressive of eternal life learnt and known experimentally in Christ (1 John 5:20). May He be the portion of our hearts at all times.

Eternal Life
1. To praise Him in the dance! O glorious day!
   The pilgrim journey done —
 No more press forward on the weary way,
   For all is reached and won!

2. His hand at last, the hand once pierced for me,
   For ever holdeth mine —
 O Lord, no songs, no harps of heaven will be
   Sweet as one word of Thine.

3. Lord, altogether lovely! then at last
   High shall the guerdon be;
 Thy kiss outweigh the weary ages past,
   Of hearts that break for Thee.
*         *         *         *         *         *
4. Yet now I know Thee as the hidden bread,
   The living One, who died —
 Who sitteth at my table — by my bed —
   Who walketh at my side.

5. I know Thee as the fountain of deep bliss,
   Whereof one drop shall make
 The joys of all the world as bitterness,
   My Lord for Thy sweet sake.

6. Lord, Thou hast loved me; and henceforth to me
   Earth's noonday is but gloom;
 My soul sails forth on the eternal sea,
   And leaves the shore of doom.

7. I pass within the glory even now,
   Where shapes and words are not,
 For joy that passeth words, O Lord, art Thou,
   A bliss that passeth thought.

8. I enter there, for Thou hast borne away
   The burden of my sin —
 With conscience clear as heaven's unclouded day
   Thy courts I enter in.

9. Heaven now for me — for ever Christ and heaven —
   The endless NOW begun —
 No PROMISE, but a gift eternal GIVEN,
   Because the work is done.

Henry Suso, 14th Century. From Three Friends of God, by Mrs. Frances Bevan.