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THE KING’S BUSINESS
for some time believed in Christ, and all were baptized together.
T h e C o n tin en t , noticing an address by a Mr. Dixon, a Christian Science lecturer, says : “Mr. Dixon winds up, as is usua. with the orthodox Scientist, by quoting from Mrs. Eddy: “On page 587 (‘Science and Health’) she defines heaven' as Harmony; the reign of Spirit; government by Divine Principle; spirituality; bliss;'the atmosphere of Soul.” “Mrs. Eddy’s definitions have the mar velous faculty of telling you less about the thing defined than you knew before you read the definition. To such folks as es teem mystification as explanatory, defini tions of the kind will doubtless appeal. For example, ‘government by Divine Prinpicle,' ‘atmosphere of Soul,’ etc., etc., have a sort of high-sounding jingle about them which, to a certain type of mind, may successfully conceal their poverty of thought.” One can only say about such verbal ab surdities as this what Artemus Ward said Abraham Lincoln said about his lecture, that “it was a very good lecture for people who liked a lecture of that kind.” But it is quite hopeless to carry on an argument with people who turn good English into a sort of esoteric “Volapuk.” S tern D uty said , “G o walk a mile And help thy brother bear his load.” I walked reluctant, but, meanwhile, My heart grew soft with help bestowed. Then Love said, “Go another mile.” I went, and Duty spake no more. But Love arose and with a Snlile Took all the burden that I bore. ’Tis ever thus when Duty calls; If we spring quickly to obey, Love comes, and whatsoe’er befalls, We’re glad to help another day. The second mile we walk with joy ; Heaven’s peace goes with us on the road, So let us all our powers employ To help our brother bear life’s load. —Stephen Moore. ,
“You church people imagine you’ve got a through-ticket to heaven on a Pullman pal ace car, with an order to the porter to wake you up when the train runs into the yards at the New Jerusalem.” “If there weren’t any churches in this city there wouldn’t be a decent man or wo man here in six months, and your real es tate wouldn’t be worth 25 cents on the dollar.” “If, while Christ was on the Mount of Transfiguration, the apostles could not cast out a devil, a bunch like them in the churches—wine-fizzlin’, gin-fizzin’, rangoin’, tangoin’—couldn’t cast out a peanut.” “When every Christian man votes against the saloon, that very day the saloon will go to hell; and we won’t.” “You’ve got moral curviture of the spine. Your spiritual batting average is under 15.” —"Billy" Sunday. T h ir ty years ago there was not a single evangelical Christian in Guatemala so far as present missionaries know. If one asked a native in those days whether he would like to have a Bible, the reply was, “What is a Bible?” He didn’t know whether it was a patent medicine or a new brand of cigarettes. Now the book of books is to be found in thousands of homes, read and appreciated. The priest with his mediaeval conception of things tried for a while to collect and burn every Bible discovered. But he was working against the electric motor, the stereotype, the rotary press, modern civilization, human progress and the fire divine in the hearts of the Bible society’s supporters; so he has about given up the fight as hopeless. The more Bibles he burns, the more there seem to be left. Meanwhile the Bible and the missionaries are doing their work and there are now at least fifty-four congregations of believers in the republic, varying in numbers from twelve to 300. “Nothing succeeds like suc cess.”
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