THE KING’S BUSINESS
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trouble with the man was this: when he was on top of the box car he was jingling dishonest money in his pocket—for I learned that he had collected twenty-five cents each from about thirty tramps and had placed them in the box car which rolled over him. I say when he was on top of the box car, enjoying the scenery of the inland empire, as they call it, he cared nothing about God or religion. South east there fose in majesty the snow-capped CoUer-de-Alenes, carpeted at their base with luxuriant ferns and guarded by gigan tic tamaracks. Southwest of him he could see the magnificent Palouse Valley stretch ing for nearly one hundred miles and embracing one of the finest agricultural belts upon the earth. His conscience was not worrying him, but when the box car was on top of him he began to feel his helplessness and his limitations. I really believe God permits trouble to enter our hearts and homes in order that we may be taught our dependence upon the everlasting arms. O, the patience of God! O, the Infi nite tenderness of His great heart! “When I forget Him and wander away, Still He doth love me wherever I stray. Back to His dear, loving arms would I flee, When I remember that Jesus loves me.” He seems as patient and tender as a nurse in Hisjlealings with us up to a given point, and then He has to bring forth the Surgeon’s knives and begin to operate severely and radically upon us. When a friend of mine was conducting a meeting in Virginia, years ago, a woman of fine bearing came to him and asked for an interview. She said that when she was twelve years of age she had been confirmed into the church. At eighteen she had mar ried one of the fine young business men of Richmond and they had wealth and social position, and a home of perfect happiness. Three children were born into their home and there had jnever been a cloud of sor row to blacken their sky, until one night she found that their oldest child was taken with a fatal sickness. All night long she and her husband and the physician were by
the bedside. About daylight the physician gave up hope and the little girl passed out of this life into the great beyond. She said she was plunged into the depths of sorrow. She felt-very keenly the conviction that she was living a wasted life. The call of soci ety came strongly to her and she said she forgot her sorrow in the whirl of the sqcial life. A year later the second child was taken with a fatal illness and died as quickly as the first child had. She said she was dazed, 'but the voice of conviction spoke again and seemed to say: “You are living only for self and you are wasting the best opportunities for life.” She said she had comforted herself for six months or a year with the thought that she had one child left and she would train him for society and the world. One day her hus band came home at an unusual hour and informed her that he had lost everything they possessed. He said, “Even our home will have to go to satisfy the creditors.” The woman told my friend that since that they had moved from their beautiful home into a little rented cottage and had given up their place in society, that same voice had called her again and again. She said, “Please tell me in these awful hours of trial when my heart has been crushed with grief do you think that voice is the voice of the Spirit of God.” Her only child, a beautiful little boy, stood by his mother’s knee. My friend pointed toward the child and said, “If you are unwilling to heed the call of God it may be that He will have to speak again.” She knelt in prayer and pledged her life to the Saviour. SOME ARE DRIFTING My friends, I am sure that some of the people in this audience are drifting straight toward the rocks and shoals of sadness, grief and indescribable suffering. They have despised God’s authority; they have refused the messages of his ambassadors and little time is left before they enter the doldrums of sorrow. I was called to a city once to conduct a meeting and I learned that an official in one of the churches had used his financial
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