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THE REV. THOMAS CONNELLAN, - The Gospel Magazine

THE REV. THOMAS CONNELLAN, - The Gospel Magazine

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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Gospel</strong> <strong>Magazine</strong>. 533<br />

Jesus meets every case, and supplies every need. <strong>The</strong> gracious King<br />

reveals Himself also in the galleries of Worship. In His own complex<br />

Person the Lord Jesus is the true Temple, the meeting place of God<br />

and man, because He is the God-man. Not only so, the Lord Jesus is<br />

likewise Himself the true object of the believer's worship, because He<br />

is God, and because the Father can only be approached in Him. Out<br />

of Christ, our God is a consuming fire.<br />

In <strong>Gospel</strong> galleries the dear Redeemer reveals Himself with pierced<br />

hands outstretched to welcome all who come unto Him labouring and<br />

heavy laden, needing and seeking the rest He alone can give.<br />

<strong>The</strong> gallery of Communion is the banqueting house, where the<br />

Beloved admits loving souls into fellowship with Himself, and bends<br />

His willing ear to listen to their" tales of woe," while His voice speaks<br />

peace to their troubled hearts. Here He satisfies longing souls with<br />

assurances of His favour, and grants them token of His love. Often<br />

the King is held in the galleries of the Ordinances of His house, and<br />

comes down in the preaching of the Word "like rain upon the mown<br />

grass, and as showers that water the earth" (Ps. lxxii. 6), in reviving,<br />

renewing, and refreshing grace. In the Lord's Supper He presents His<br />

own flesh and blood as food for faith to humble partakers; when they<br />

richly enjoy the King's" feast of fat things." Thus," the King is<br />

held in the galleries."<br />

Bath. E. C.<br />

ODE ON <strong>THE</strong> LAST DAY.<br />

(Written during a storm at sea by Richard Kempenfelt, Rear-Admiral<br />

of the. Blue, who went down in the " Royal George" when she foundered<br />

at Sp~thead on Thursday, 29th of August, 1782.)<br />

HARK! 'tis the trump of God<br />

Sounds through the realms abroad,<br />

" Time is no more! "<br />

Horrors invest the skies,<br />

Graves burst, and myriads rise;<br />

Nature in agonies<br />

Yields up her store.<br />

Changed in a moment's space<br />

Lo ! all the affrighted race<br />

Shriek and despair:<br />

Now they attempt to fly<br />

Dread immortality,<br />

And eye their misery<br />

• Dreadfullynear.

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