MAY, 1946
KB 199
misery by doing away with himself. The Chicago River was near; why not leap to his death from the bridge? His mind made up, he began to ar range a few legal matters. He mut- tered to himself: “This is the last time . . . the last time I’ll write anything • .. the last time I’ll put on this over coat . . . the last time I’ll go out of this house . . Suddenly the idea struck him that, to add to the final gestures, he ought to listen once more to the radio. He snapped on the switch and waited for the tubes to warm up. Almost at once a clear voice burst into the room sing ing: “ O longing soul unsatisfied, And weary sore of fruitless quest, There is a joy as yet untried, There is a voice that speaketh rest. “The voice of Jesus softly calls, Entreating you to turn from sin; With Jesus, peace and rest are found, Into His fold, O enter in.” —Leonard R. Jenkins. “Why—that’s I!” the disconsolate one exclaimed. “I’m ‘a longing soul unsatisfied’ if there ever was one!” Breathlessly he listened. Who was the singer? Where and what was the Moody Bible Institute from which this Gospel solo emanated? He did not know or care. All that mattered was that the song made plain to his dark ened mind that Jesus Christ could sat isfy the heart. Dropping to his knees, he yielded his life to Him. Instantly, peace took the place of chaos. The would-be suicide received “the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heav iness,” (Isa. 61:3). In this man’s case song had led to the Saviour. In the confusion and conflict of the age in which we live, the great need is for God-given evangelism—and mu sic is its spearpoint. The use of it was demonstrated clearly in days not far distant, when Moody and Sankey inspired the world to listen to the sim ple message of salvation. These men and others like them, charged with the dynamic of God, were bushes burning with the fire of evangelism. They set forth, in word and melody, the vital truths of conviction, repent ance, and salvation, and "a “new day” Was born. The blessing of that day extends to ours—but, we must not rest upon its achievements. We must, in every possible way, extend the invita tion to sinners, as Thomas Moore wrote in 1816: “Come, ye disconsolate, Where ’er ye languish; Come to the mercy-seat, Fervently kneel; Here brinsftyour wounded hearts, Here tell A u r anguish, Earth h^^Bp sorrow That He^^S cannot heal.”
M ..O T H E R S Herbert Lockyer, D.D.
W HAT a wonderful country Amer ica is! The longer one lives in it, the more he is impressed with the inventive Americans’ unique ways of doing things. For instance, there is a Father’s Day, when father’s love and protection are remembered; a Children’s Day, when the importance of child training is stressed; and, in some sections, a Pastor’s Day, when occasion is taken to commend the preacher for his devoted ministry. However, one of the most popular celebrations, which had its beginning in 1914, is Mother’s Day, held on the second Sunday of May. If one’s mother is living, he wears a red flower; if dead, a white flower is pinned on the coat or dress. That such a day is commercialized is evi dent from the fact that the shops are loaded with suitable gifts for Mother. Cards, as at Christmas, likewise play a large part on this occasion. While, of course, every day should be Moth er’s Day, there is something particu larly fitting about setting apart one day to call to remembrance what the world owes to motherhood. There is an old saying to the effect that God could not be everywhere at one time, so He made mothers. Such lovely sentiment, however, is only par- “tially true, for as the Omnipresent One, God is everywhere, and many mothers, being but fallible human be ings, are not all they should be. Martin Luther, the monk who shook the world, stated: “There is nothing sweeter on earth than the heart of a mother in which piety dwells.” A mother’s influence is described in the old poem: “They say that man is mighty; “But mightier power and stronger Man from his throne has hurled, For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world.” “The world,” says a gifted writer, “never needed good mothers any more than it does today.” Mothers have the key to the youth problem; their influence upon their children will last throughout eternal ages. In a list of one hundred ministers, it was discovered that 80 per cent of them credited their religious experi ence more to their mothers than to all other influences. In answer to the question, “What is France’s greatest need?” Napoleon replied, “Mothers.” He is also cred He governs land and sea; He wields a mighty scepter On lower powers than he.
ited with the statement, “The future of a child is the work of the mother. Let France have good mothers, and she will have good sons.” Here is the answer to America’s juvenile delin quency, which is really the outcome of parental delinquency. We must have godlier mothers, and fathers, too, if we are to have God-fearing chil dren. “Nobody knows of the work it makes To keep the home together; Nobody knows of the steps it takes Nobody knows but Mother. Nobody knows the lessons taught Of loving one another; Nobody knows the patience sought Nobody knows but Mother.” Even the infidel is affected by the holy influence of a pious mother. John Randolph could never shake off the restraining influence of a little verse his mother taught him. Although in the clutches of infidelity, he found himself repeating it. “There the grave! Look! Listen! There sleeps the muse of infancy, The guide of our youth, The counselor of our ripened years. Our friend when others desert us, Her heart was a stranger to all but love: There she sleeps ’till Jesus comes.” Abraham Lincoln’s mother was a devoted Christian. It was at her knee that the notable President committed to memory much of the Bible. He confessed: “All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel mother.” If we would turn the world from its errors and vices, we must begin by enlisting mothers. “An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.” Said Henry Ward Beecher: “A moth er’s heai'i: Is the child’s schoolroom.” During a to the Pacific Garden - Mission, Chicago, Illinois, where Billy Sunday and many another conspicuous sinner was saved, I was struck with the printed card over the platform, “When did you write to Mother?” And, as I looked at it, I wondered how many wayward sons had been brought to the remembrance of a mother’s love and prayers by such a question. “If you have a gray-haired mother In an old home far away, Sit down and write a letter You put o ff from day to day. Don’t wait until her weary steps Reach the pearly gates. But show her you think of her Before it is too late.” “Honour thy father and thy moth er” says the good old Book, “that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.”
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