I well remember when Frances first thought of writing “My King.”  We were returning from Switzerland.  Her illness there had quite hindered any writing, and she seemed to regret having no book ready for Christmas.  It was October 21st, we had passed Oxford station, on our way to Winterdyne, and I thought she was dozing, when she exlaimed, with that herald flash in her eye:  “Marie! I see it all, I can write a little book, ‘My King’ ” and rapidly went through divisions for thirty-one chapters.  The setting sun shone on her face; and, even then, it seemed to me she could not be far distant from the land of the King.  Illness came on again, accompanied by severe suffering, yet the book was quickly written and published.

Maria V.G. Havergal (Frances’ sister) from MEMORIALS OF FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL

“And thine age shall be clearer than the noonday; thou shalt shine forth, thou shalt be as the morning.”–Job 11:17.

I suppose nobody ever did naturally like the idea of getting older, after they had at least ‘left school.’  There is a sense of oppression and depression about it.  The irresistible, inevitable onward march of moments and years without the possibility of one instant’s pause–a march that, even while on the uphill side of life, is leading to the downhill side–casts an autumn-like shadow over even many a spring-birthday; for perhaps this is never more vividly felt than when one is only passing from May to June–sometimes earlier still.  But how surely the Bible gives us the bright side of everything!  In this case, it gives three bright sides of a fact, which, without it, could not help being gloomy.
   First, it opens the sure prospect of increasing brightness to those who have begun to walk in the light.  Even if the sun of our life has reached the apparent zenith, and we have known a very noonday of mental and spiritual being, it is no poetic ‘western shadows’ that are to lengthen upon our way, but ‘our age is to be clearer than the noonday.’  How suggestive that word is!  The light though intenser and nearer, shall dazzle less; ‘in Thy light shall we see light,’ be able to bear much more of it, see it more clearly, see all the else by it more clearly, reflect it more clearly.  We should have said, ‘At evening-time there shall be shadow;’  God says, ‘At evening-time there shall be light.’
   Also we are not to look for a very dismal afternoon of life with only some final sunset glow; for He says it ’shineth more and more unto the perfect day;’ and ‘more and more’ leaves no dark intervals; we are to expect a continually brightening path.  ‘The future is one vista of brightness and blessedness’ to those who are willing only ‘to walk in the light.’  Just think, when you are seven, or ten, or twenty years older, that will only mean seven, or ten, or twenty years’ more experience of His love and faithfulness, more light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ; and still the ‘more and more unto the perfect day,’ will be opening out before us!  We are ‘confident of this very thing!’
   The second bright side is increasing fruitfulness.  Do not let us confuse between works and fruit.  Many a saint in the land of Buelah is not able to do anything at all, and yet is bringing forth fruit unto God beyond the busiest workers.  So that even when we come to the days when ‘the strong men shall bow themselves,’ there may be more pleasant fruits for our Master, riper and fuller and sweeter, than ever before.  For ‘they shall still bring forth fruit in old age’ and the man that simply ‘trusteth in the Lord’ shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit.’
   Some of the fruits of the Spirit seem to be especially and peculiarly characteristic of sanctified older years; and do we not want to bring them all forth?  Look at the splendid ripeness of Abraham’s ‘faith’ in his old age; the grandeur of Moses’ ‘meekness,’ when he went up the mountain alone to die; the mellowness of St. Paul’s ‘joy’ in his later epistles; and the wonderful ‘gentleness’ of St. John, which makes us almost forget his early character of ‘a son of thunder,’ wanting to call down God’s lightnings of wrath.  And ‘the same Spirit’ is given to us, that we too may bring forth ‘fruit that may abound,’ and always ‘more fruit.’ 
   The third bright side is brightest of all:  ‘Even to your old age, I am He;’ always the same Jehovah-Jesus; with us ‘all the days,’ bearing and carrying us ‘all the days;’  reiterating His promise–’even to the hoar hairs will I carry you. . .; even I will carry and will deliver you,’ just as He carried the lambs in His bosom.  For we shall always be His little children, and ‘doubtless’ He will always be our Father.  The rush of years cannot touch this!

Fear not the westering shadows,
   O Children of the Day;
For brighter still and brighter,
   Shall be your homeward way.
Resplendant as the morning,
   With fuller glow and power,
And clearer than the noonday,
   Shall be your evening hour.

Frances Ridley Havergal from ROYAL BOUNTY,
TWENTY-EIGHTH DAY

Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879) was born a pastor’s daughter.  Her father sacrificed in order to provide a fine education for his children.  Frances’ formal education ended at 17, with one term at a young woman’s school in Germany, where, for the first time in its history, the school awarded a student first prize, Frances being the recipient of that award.  Having surrendered her heart to the Lord at 14, she viewed her knowledge as a means to know Christ more, and make Him more known.  This selection of her work is reflective of the quality of virtually all her writing.  The first half of the book is a collection of sixty very fine poems, diligently arranged to dove-tail from one poem and topic to the next.  This is followed by several excerpts from her letters, and ten challenging and helpful prose pieces.  The booklet than concludes with six of her music scores.  It is our hope that this booklet will be of service to our King–both in the growth of His bride and the expanse of His kingdom.

This is a review of the Havergal booklet, a new publication announcing The Complete Works of Frances Ridley Havergal, soon to be printed by Granted Ministries Press.  You may also view the newly published paperback copy of the Havergal biography, Ever, Only, All for Thee written by Mrs. Pamela Bugden, here.  (Scroll down at the site to see the complete review of the booklet and pricing.)

‘Thy love is better than wine.’–CANT. 1, 2.

WINE is the symbol of earthly joy; and who that has had but one sip of the love of Christ does not know this ‘royal wine,’ this true ‘wine of the kingdom,’ to be better than the best joy that the world can give!  How much more, then, when deeper and fuller draughts are the daily portion, as we ‘follow on to know the love not of a favored few, but of all saints,’ to comprehend something of what is incomprehensible.
   1.  The breadth, constrasted with the narrowness of earthly love and all its joy.  Perhaps it is not so much by looking at His love to all the redeemed ones whom no man can number, that we realize this, as by seeing that the love of Jesus was broad enough to reach and include ‘even me.’  ‘Who loved me;’ is not that more incomprehensible than that He loved all the saints and angels?
   2.  The length, contrasted with the passing shortness of the longest earthly love and joy.  What is the length?  ‘Unto the end.’  And even that is not the full measure, for His immeasurable love is everlasting; and when inconceivable ages have passed, we shall be no nearer ‘the end’ than now.
   3.  The depth, contrasted with the shallowness which is always felt, however disguised, in the world’s best.  Down to the very depth of our fall went that wonderful love of Christ, to the depth of our sin, to the depth of our need, to the depth of those caverns of our own strange inner being which we ourselves cannot fathom, and which only His love can fill.
   4.  The height, contrasted with the lowness and littleness of all that is represented by the world’s wine.  This all ends in self, which is like a low vaulted roof, keeping down every possibility of rising; and so the earthly joy can take but a bat-like flight, always checked, always limited, in dusk and darkness.  But the love of Christ breaks through the vaulting, and leads us up into the free sky above, expanding to the very throne of Jehovah, and drawing us ’still upward’ to the infinite heights of glory.  Is there any height beyond, ‘As the Father hath loved Me, so have I loved you’?  These measures (so to speak) of Christ’s love are those of the unsearchable perfection of God Himself.  ‘It is as high as heaven, deeper than hell’ (thank God for that word deeper), ‘longer than the earth, and broader than the sea.’
   For whom is this love?  Oh how glad we are that it is not for the worthy and the faithful, so that we must be shut out, but for His own, though the chief of sinners!  It is ‘the love of the Lord toward the children of Israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine.’  Has it been so with us, that we have been looking away from Jesus to heart-idols and ‘other lords,’ and loving some earthly ‘flagons of wine’–other love, other pleasures, other joys, ‘other things,’ which are not Jesus Christ’s?  Then only think of ‘the love of the Lord toward’ us!  Well may we say, ‘Thy love to me was wonderful,’ and own it to be ‘better than wine,’ ‘above my chief joy.’  He proved His love to you and me to be ’strong as death;’ and when all God’s waves and billows went over Him, the many waters could not quench it.
   In His love and in His pity He redeemed us; in the same love He bears us and carries us all the day long.  He ‘loveth at all times,’ and that includes this present moment; now, while your eye is on this page, His eye of love is looking on you, and the folds of His banner of love are overshadowing you.
   Is there even a feeble pulse of love to Him?  He meets it with, “I love them that love Me.’  ‘I will love him, and will manifest Myself to him.’  And so surely as the bride says, ‘Thy love is better than wine,’ so surely does the heavenly Bridegroom respond with incomprehensible condescension:  ‘How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse!  how much better is thy love than wine.’  May this love of Christ constrain us to live unto Him ‘who loved me and gave Himself for me.’

O Christ, He is the fountain,
The deep, sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I’ve tasted,
More deep I’ll drink above.
There to an ocean-fulness
His mercy doth expand,
Where glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.

Oh!  I am my Beloved’s,
And my Beloved is mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into ‘His house of wine.’
I stand upon His merits;
I know no safer stand,
Not e’en where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.
                 A. B. COUSIN

Frances Ridley Havergal from ROYAL BOUNTY

Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine which I have mingled.

IN SEVERAL chapters of Proverbs the Lord Jesus Christ is beautifully described under the figure of wisdom.  For he is “the Wisdom of God,” and he is “made unto us Wisdom.”
   In this verse he gives a double invitation–to eat of his bread, and drink of his wine.  These are the symbols of life and joy–his life and his joy.
   “Come, eat of my bread.”  “Feed on him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiviing.”  For Jesus himself is the true bread from heaven.  And he that eateth of this bread shall live forever.  For he is the bread of life, life-giving and life-sustaining.
   How shall we eat?  It is the old story–only coming, only believing, for “he that cometh to me shall never hunger,” and “we are made partakers of Christ, if we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast unto the end.”
   It is not a mere tasting of a bare subsisting to which Christ invites us.  He says, “Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.”  For “I am come that they  might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly”; fullness and vigor of life,  abounding pulses of vitality, fresh and strong; life that shall not and cannot fail, for “he ever liveth,” and “because I live, ye shall live also.”
   How often we have sung, “He hath filled the hungry with good things”!  Are you hungry?  Come, eat of his bread, leaving the husks and ashes, and you shall know what it is to be filled with good things, for “he filleth the hungry soul with goodness.”
   It is not only the solid life-need of bread that is provided at the feast which the Lord has made for us but wine, the symbol of joy “that maketh glad the heart of man.”  “Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price,” because the price is already paid for it.  His sorrow was the price of the joy offered to us.  He poured out his soul unto death that he might pour out his joy into our lives.  He emptied the cup which his Father gave him that he might fill ours until it runs over.  Without price to us, but oh, the price to him!
   The Lord Jesus says it is wine which he has mingled.  Not all one kind but mingled by divine care and skill into a perfect draught of manifold gladness.  “If they obey and serve him, they shall spend their days in prosperity, and their years in pleasures.”   That is the heritage of the servants of the Lord.  Did you think it was so pleasant?   Did you know that he meant you to spend your years in pleasures here as well as to give you the pleasures forever more hereafter?  “Come, drink of the wine that he has mingled,” and you will find out what these pleasures are, and how exceedingly real they are.  No wonder you are a little skeptical about it for “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him; but [notice now exactly what is said] God hath revealed them unto us by His Spirit.”  So, unless or until God reveals them to you by his Spirit, you cannot see or conceive what these pleasures are which he has prepared for those who love him–what this wine in which he has mingled for those who come to him.  Oh, taste and see!  Come and put your trust under the shadow of his wings, and then you shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of his house and he shall make you drink of the river of his pleasures.

Frances Ridley Havergal from THE ROYAL INVITATION

   June 1876.  During a visit to her brother Frank, at Upton Bishop Vicarage, she was much interested in his schools and cottages.  Every day she went about from house to house, reading the Bible and telling in simple words of God’s love in sending Jesus Christ to save sinners.
   In one instance, at a garden party, my sister’s happy face attracted a young stranger, so that she sought conversation with her.  Often have I been told:  “F. R. H. looks so really happy, she must have something we have not.”  (With the utmost skill, no artist or photograph gives a real idea of her lighted up expression.  Is it because soul cannot be represented any more than a sunbeam?)  And my pen fails, too, in giving an idea to strangers of her sunny ways, merrily playing with children, and heartily enjoying all things.  But her deep sympathy with others’ joys and sorrows, and her loyal longings that all should know the “joy unspeakable and full of glory,” were the secret of her influence with others.
   I may mention that her singing from Handel’s “Messiah,” accompanying herself on her brother’s organ, after service on her last Sunday evening at Upton Bishop, will long be remembered by all who heard.  The old parish clerk remarked, “I never heard the like of that before.”

M. V. G. H. (Maria Vernon Graham Havergal, her sister) from MEMORIALS OF FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL

“Rest in (‘Be silent to’) the Lord.”–PSALM 37:7

. . .we may be silent to the Lord.  Just because we know He loves us so really and understands us so thoroughly!  There is no need when very weary, bodily or mentally, or both, to force ourselves to entertain Him, so to speak; to go through a sort of duty-work of a certain amount of uttered words or arranged thoughts.  That might be if He were only to us as a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night, but not with the beloved and Gracious One who has come in to abide with us, and is always there!  If this is His relation to us, there is no fear but what there will be, at other times, plenty of intercourse; but now, when we are “so tired,” we may just be silent to Him, instead of speaking to Him.
   This is one of the expressions which are exclusively used concerning the things of God.  There is no such thing as being silent to anyone else.  Silent with a mortal friend, but never silent to any but the Immortal One.  Though it has its earthly analogy, it is not identically the  same.  For none but our Lord can interpret the unseen pulsings of that which to human ken is only silence.  He hears the music they are measuring out before Him.  He takes the confidence of that hush at its full value of golden love.  He sees the soul’s attitude of devotion and faith through the shadows which hide it from itself.
   Sometimes He takes the opportunity of our silence to speak Himself.   He answers it “with good words and comfortable words.”  And do we not know that one such word from Him is more than anything else, worth ten thousand-fold all the weariness or exhaustion of pain which brought us to be silent!
   But sometimes He answers silence with silence.  What then?  Are we to conclude that He is gone away, or is not thinking about us, forgetting to be gracious?  We are judging Him as He would not judge us.  He did not put such an interpretation on our silence; then why should we on His?  Let us take His interpretation of it; surely we should believe that He himself asserts!  “He will be silent in His love” (Zeph. 3:17).  Can any words be more beautiful!  It is as if He, even He, who made man’s mouth, had made no words which could express His exceeding great love, and therefore He could only expand it in the silence which lies above and below and beyond all language.  When we have said, as very likely we have often done, “Why art Thou silent unto me, O Lord?”  why did we not take His own exquisite answer, and trust the love that was veiled in the silence?  For whenever we can say, “Truly my soul waiteth upon (Heb. is silent to) God,” we may rest assured that any apparent waiting on His part is only “that He may be gracious,” yes, “very gracious unto thee.”
   We may be sure He has many things to say to us, when He sees we can bear them.  But till His time to speak is come, let our silence of trust respond to His silence of love.

Frances Ridley Havergal from STARLIGHT THROUGH THE SHADOWS

“Cherisheth it.”–EPHESIANS 5:29

. . .think how “a nurse cherisheth her children” (I Thessalonians 2:7).  That is, a “gentle” and wise one.  How the little ailments are watched and attended to; how the little weary heads are laid on her shoulders and stroked to sleep; how the little meals are regulated and given; never forgotten,–who ever heard of such a thing!  How the little garments are kept clean and comfortable, changed and mended, as need may be.  How the nursery fire is looked after (while all the while the guard is kept on the bars), so that the room should not be too hot or too cold.  How the little bodies are cared for and loved every inch, even the little fingers and toes!  How the little fancies are borne with and entered into, not unheeded or scorned; and the sillly little questions patiently answered, and the baby lessons taught, and the small tempers managed, and checked, and forgiven!  That is cherishing.  Need we trace its close resemblence to the dealings of our infinitely patient and gentle Lord?

Then think of the still higher and closer cherishing. . .of the Lord’s love and care and thought for you.  What could He say more?  For even thus the Lord cherisheth you,–He gives you His name to bear as your honour, and His very heart to dwell in as the home of your soul.  He gives you the right of constant access, the right of continual dwelling in His presence.  He makes you partaker of His very nature, joining you unto Himself, not only in a perpetual covenant, but as “one spirit” with Him.  He pays all your debts, and now all your wants lie upon Him, and these wants are each and all forseen and provided for, and supplied with untiring love.  He knows in an instant when you are weary or ailing, whether in body or spirit, and knows how to speak the right word for either, speaking verily to your heart,–knows, too, when to be silent for a little while.  His cherishing goes on night and day. . .this life-long manifestation of love. . .that we may see face to face, and know even as you are known.  His care over you will then be exchanged for perfect joy over you.

     “From glory unto glory.”  Though tribulation fall,
     It cannot touch our treasure when Christ is all in all!
     Whatever lies before us, there can be nought to fear,
     For what are pain and sorrow when Jesus Christ is near?”

Frances Ridley Havergal from STARLIGHT THROUGH THE SHADOWS

‘Come unto Me.’–MATT. 11:28

WHAT kind, sweet words for your pillow to-night!   Jesus says them to you. 
   ‘How am I to know?’ Well, they are for every one that is weary and heavy laden.  Do not you know what it is to be weary and tired sometimes?  Perhaps you know what it is to feel almost tired of trying to be good–weary with wishing you could be better.  So, you see, it is to you that He says ‘Come!’
   And if you have not yet come, you are heavy laden too, even if you do not feel it; because the burden of sin is heavy enough to sink you down into hell, unless Jesus takes it from you.  So it is to you that He says ‘Come!’ 
   And lest you should think He says it to grown-up people only, He said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me.’  Are you a little child?  Then it is to you that He says ‘Come!’ 
   ’If He were here, and if I could see Him, I should like to come.’  He is here, as really and truly as you are.  Suppose your mother and you were in a dark room together, and she said, ‘Come to me!’  you would not stop to say, ’I would come if I could see you.’  You would say, ‘I am coming, mother!’ and you would soon feel your way across the room, and be safe by her side.  Not seeing her would not make any difference.   
   Jesus calls you now, this very night.  He is here, in this very room.  Now, will you say, ‘I am coming, Lord Jesus!’ and ask Him to stretch out His hand and help you to come, and draw you quite close to Himself?
   Yes, to Himself, the blessed, beloved Lord Jesus, who loved you and gave Himself for you, who has waited so patiently for you, who calls you because He wants you to come and be His own little lamb, and be taken up in his arms and blessed.  Will you keep Him waiting any longer?  Will you not ‘come’? 

   ‘Will you not come to Him for life?
      Why will you die, oh why?
   He gave His life for you, for you!
   The gift is free, the word is true!
      Will ye not come?  Oh why will ye die?’

Frances Ridley Havergal from LITTLE PILLOWS

‘I have loved you, saith the Lord.’–MAL. 1:2

IS not this a sweet pillow to rest upon to-night?  But a pillow is of no use if you only look at it; that does not rest you.  You must lay your head down upon it, and then you rest.  So, do not only think, ‘Yes, that is a very nice text;’  but believe it, and lay your heart down restfully upon it; and say, ‘Yes, He loves me!’
   How different these words are from what we should have expected!  We should have expected God to say, ‘I will love you, if you will love me.’  But no!  He says, ‘I have loved you.’  Yes, He has loved you already, poor little restless heart, that wants to be loved!  He loves you now, and will love you always.
   But you say, ‘I wish I knew whether He loves me!’  Why, He tells you so; and what could He say more?  There it stands–’I have loved you, saith the Lord.’  It is TRUE, and you need only believe it, and be glad of it, and tell Him how glad you are that He loves you.
   But you say, ‘Yes, I know He loves good people; but I am so naughty!’  Then He has a special word for you:  ‘God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’  He says nothing about ‘good people,’ but tells you that He loved you so much, while you were naughty, that He has sent the Lord Jesus, His own dear, dear Son, to die for you.  Could He do more than that?
   He says in the same verse (Mal. 1.2), ‘Yet ye say, Wherein hast Thou loved us?’  Wherein?  O herein!  not that you loved God, but that He loved you, and sent His Son to suffer instead of you. 
   When you lie down, think how many answers you can find to that question, ‘Wherein hast Thou loved us?’  See how man proofs of His love you can count up; and then go to sleep on this soft, safe pillow, ‘I have loved you, saith the Lord!’

   ‘I am so glad that our Father in heaven
   Tells of His love in the book He has given;
   Wonderful things in the Bible I see:
   This is the dearest, that Jesus loves me.

   ‘Oh, if there’s only one song I can sing,
   When in His beauty I see the great King;
   This shall my song in eternity be,
   “Oh, what a wonder, that Jesus loves me!”‘

Frances Ridley Havergal from LITTLE PILLOWS