January 1929
47
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two, left this scene of his triumphs, his trials, and successes, forever. It was a fitting close to a grand life; the old man of genius and fame, shielding the little wanderers—great in breasting traditional ways and prejudices, great also in the gesture, so like him, who recognized, as did the Master, that the humblest and the poorest were his brethren—the great preacher led out into the night by the little nameless waifs.—D*. C. W. Hall’s Funeral Sermon. It is related of St. John that when he was very old and weak, and lay upon his death-bed, his friends gathered around him that they might listen to his last words of wisdom and counsel. He lifted himself up and repeated again and again: “Little children, love one another.” And when, hoping that he might have said other things, which, perhaps, they would have treasured more eagerly, they asked if he had nothing else to tell them, he answered, “There is no need for more; for love includes all. Fulfil, therefore, this law, Love one another.” “O love of God, how strong and true, Eternal yet and ever new. Uncomprehended and unbought, Beyond all knowledge and all thought. “We read Thee best in Him who came To bear for us the Cross of shame; Sent by the Father from on high, Our life to live, our death to die.” January 20, 1929 Seeing th e Good in Men Everywhere John 1:45-51 D aily S cripture R eadings Jan. 14.—A Soul’s Value. Mark 8 :34-38. Jan. IS.—Zacchaeus. Luke 19:1-10. Jan. 16—The Samaritans. J o h n 4 :35, 39-42. Jan. 17—Peter Sees the Good. Acts 10:34, 35. Jan. 18.—Inborn Good. Rom. 2:14, 15. Jan. 19.—Good Pagans. Acts 28:1-6. “There is so much good in the worst of us, And so much bad in the best of us, That it ill behooves any of us To talk about the rest of us.” “When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32). A man in Scotland gave a sick eagle its freedom, and watched to see what would happen. Soon another eagle swept down from the sky, passed over the sick eagle, fanning it with its mighty wings, and finally lifted it up on its own broad pinions until the sick bird, gathering strength by its con tact with the messenger from the sky, spread its wings and soared away. That eagle, says one who tells the story, could bring life and invigoration down here, be cause it came from the upper air.— Chris tian Endeavor World. We are told of an infidel Swiss artist who was serving the devil to the extent of his ability, who went to Sheffield, Eng land, in 1880. There he was asked to make a caricature of a Salvation Army meeting. He went on that errand and scanned the faces of the people—with his heart like the troubled sea that could find no rest, tossed and driven by tempest of pas sion and tormented by a conscience bur
people, even with the larger salary includ ed, so he had to go back to Moinesgate to stay with those who loved him so well. It was then he wrote the hymn, “Blest be the Tie that Binds”—a hymn that the church could not well do without and has been singing since 1772. A hymn like this immortalizes a name, and per petuates the influence for eternity. One never knows when he may do the thing that shall mark him as great. A Colorado shepherd tells this story of a dog that is his efficient helper in the care of a large flock of sheep. On one occasion the dog was left to keep watch of the flock, while the shepherd ate his supper. After he had eaten his supper he told the dog to put the sheep in the corral. This she refused to do, but started off over the prairie. The herder put the sheep in and went to bed. About midnight he was awakened by the barking of the dog at the corral. He got up and, to his astonishment, found the dog with a band of about fifty sheep that had strayed during the day without the herder’s knowledge. But the observant dog knew, and though hungry and tired from the day, she had gone into the night, seeking until she found. The shepherd dog did this out of fidelity to duty and love for the strayed sheep. How much better should a man be in his fidelity to his Master and his duty than a shepherd dog. How carefully flocks and folds need to be watched. In the history of Persia a very tender incident is related. Twelve men had been robbed and murdered under the walls of the city, and the king resolved that the guilty ones, if found, should be put to death. They were, after a time, appre hended, and their guilt was established beyond a doubt. The oath of the king had been taken upon the Koran, and the sen tence of death was passed. On the day of execution men and women were in tears as to one young man of exceptional promise. They were crying out, “Can’t this young man be pardoned?” But no way was seen. A little before the execu tion the father of the young man came— was admitted to the king and besought the king that he might die in his son’s place. Said h e : “Oh, sir, be merciful, and let me be executed in his place. He is young and just betrothed in marriage. I know that he is guilty and deserves it all, but I love him and will cheerfully die for him.” The king was greatly moved by the father’s appeal and accepted the father instead of the son. The son, wild and almost distracted with grief, pleaded with the king to reverse his decree and save the life of his innocent father; but the son was spared, while the father met for him the just demands of the law and was executed with the other eleven who died for their own sins. The vicarious sacrifice of Calvary is beyond even this. On his last Sunday evening in this place, two weeks ago, after the congrega tion had retired from it, the organist and some of the choir were practicing the hymn,— “I heard the voice of Jesus say, ‘Come unto Me and rest.’ ” Mr. Beecher, in leaving, halted to listen. Two poor street boys wandered into the church, and stood gazing at the organ and listening with apparent awe and pleasure. Mr. Beecher, laying his hands on the boys’ heads, turned their faces upward and kissed them; and with his arms about the
dened with sin—he looked on the assem blage of worshipers and saw peace written on their faces and an inward joy beaming from their countenances. The sight convinced him of his sinfulness. He saw that those people had something that he lacked. He believed on the Lord Jesus Christ and found peace through the blood. At a meeting held in Sing Sing state prison by Maude Ballington Booth, one of the talks was made by Mrs. McAlpin, in which she said that she remembered dis tinctly when the “Little Mother” (Mrs. Booth) held her first meeting in the prison eight years before. In that meeting she called on all who would accept the motto and purposes of the Society, to stand up, and about a hundred of the boys arose—the toughest and hardest, said Mrs. McAlpin. A wave of gruff laughter swept through the room as they stood up, but, continued Mrs. McAlpin, one year later, when the same men stood up, not a black mark had been chalked against one of them in their prison records. Then the men applauded, with just as much spirit as they had laughed the year before. It is not for the one who first makes confession to expect the applause of those who have heretofore looked upon a life that has been unchris tian or debauched; but let such an one stand in God, and after even a community of criminals have looked upon a sturdy struggle with sin and seen the record clear, where first was derisive laughter or a questioning silence, even from the same will come the deserved applause. The great Earl of Shaftesbury served Christ by uplifting the poor of London. Where the Holborn is flung over another street in the neighborhood of Saint Paul’s cathedral, the viaduct is supported on lofty arches, and at night in those roomy, dry recesses are gathered the riff-raff of that part of the great metropolis—thieves, those flying from justice, and homeless children. When the great clock of Saint Paul’s had boomed the stroke of mid night and the arches were filled with these poor people, there approached dur ing his lifetime a tall, thin gentleman with a. lantern and one or two assistants, who would go from arch to arch and group to group and gather by morning thirty or forty hungry, ragged children into a room pleasantly lighted; and there the Earl of Shaftesbury would feed and clothe them, and having fed and clothed them, would tell them of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. And so he spent his nights, robbing himself of his sleep. His friends remonstrated, but he answer ed them, “My heart is breaking with agony for my poor boys.” The bluest blood of British aristrocracy flowed in his veins, and his palace home at the West End was left for these recesses of Holborn Via duct. And when the costermongers would not receive his help because they said he was too proud and his blood was too blue, the Earl of Shaftesbury brought himself down to them—he became a costermonger himself, with cart and donkey and with his crest emblazoned on the harness; and when they saw that they said: “Lord Shaftesbury stands with us; he shall help us.” What wonder.that at his funeral a multitude were weeping? Man, did you ever think of the costermonger Christ? Faultfinding is not difficult. Isaac Mc- Curry illustrates this: A dog hitched to a lawn mower stopped to bark at a passer by. The boy who was guiding the mower said, “Don’t mind the dog; he is just
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