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September 1929
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
expression of the Gospel message in song—the construc tive work of Lowell Mason, followed through the nine teenth century by an army of men who “carried on” faith fully, among whom are numbered William Bradbury, George F. Root, Philip Phillips, T. C. O’Kane, William G. Fischer, Robert Lowry, W. H. Doane and John R. Sweney, doing aggressive work in evangelism, teaching and publishing. To this period we trace songs like “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,” “Christ Arose,” and “Shall We Gather at the River?” Then comes the “Golden Age” of Gospel song that marks the period of the active ministry of Mr. Moody and his associates. This brought to the front a group of bril liant and vigorous men who not only wrote songs that have taken a permanent place but who were inspiriting leaders and soloists. Preeminent among these is Ira D. Sankey, whose name is inseparably linked with that of Mr. Moody as his coworker in those first great years of his larger ministry in America and England. The lamented P. P. Bliss, whose tragic death in a railway disaster throws a sadness over his memory, was one of the greatest of Gospel singers and writers—a man of remarkably winning personality and deep consecration. James McGranahan was another choice soul and effective singer whose writ ings, so familiar in every Gospel-song book, are commonly recognized as among the best examples of Gospel music. George S. Stebbins has left a fine addition to permanent Gospel music in his setting of “Saved by Grace,” together with many other songs. Associated with Mr. Moody in his later years was Dr. D. B. Towner, director of Music at the Moody Church and the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. He was a remarkable man, greatly used of God as a soloist, leader, teacher and writer, who doubtless ex erted a greater influence for the promotion of Gospel music than any man of his generation, owing to his strategic position as a teacher at the very center of evangelism for twenty-five years. The past tense is sometimes used in referring to Gos pel-song writers and singers as if they were relics of a bygone day. There is apt to be a glamour thrown around the initial stages of any radical movement, but in this case the present is important. The Gospel singer, writer and publisher was never so well equipped and never more greatly needed. If the spotlight has been thrown on the closing decades of the nineteenth century, if there is no Moody in sight to meet the challenge of the present hour in great Mass Campaigns, if there are no worthy shoulders for the mantle of Sankey to rest upon, then a mighty call comes to us to face present conditions with a new conse cration—in churches, in colleges, in conventions, in Bible Institutes, and through the press, to carry “the banner of the cross’’;,ever higher, in Gospel song, “till He come.” Are Y ou a D rifte r? A DRIFTER is a row boat or sailing boat floating along without intelligent control or guidance, impelled by the current that carries it, until some stronger current catches it and causes it to change its course. The drifter is altogether at the mercy of chance winds and waves. The drifter is a man who moves along the lines of least resistance. He is a creature of impulse. He lacks per sonal initiative. He lacks the power of a dominant purpose, He is never a leader or designer. He follows the crowd. His life is molded by family, friends, associates. Life for him is not a battle but a sort of hazy dream, sometimes a yellow fog.
Even men of genius may be drifters. When Coleridge died a friend said of him : “Poor Sam has gone. His life was rather a muddle. He leaves behind him a thou sand brilliant pieces of work—not one of them com pleted.” We knew a man about thirty years of age. He was a minister in charge of a church. He had the degree of doctor of medicine. He had been graduated from a law school. Life insurance had tempted him. He was intending to enter the real-estate business. We have not heard of him for many years. He may be a captain in the airplane service by this time, or announcer at a radio station—he had a fine voice. Across the ages comeé the challenging cry of the heroic soul, “ This one thing I do!” The words carry no arousing message to the incorrigible drifter. It may be that he is always doing one thing, or one small group of things, but he does not do them well; he does not triumph in his doing. He may not be a Jack of all Trades, like the drifters of whom we have just spoken, but he certainly is “master of none.” Many drifters are of that type. They live just as their fathers lived. They are cheerful children of circumstance. Most clerks continue to be clerks. They never summon their dormant energies, enlarge the habi tation of their souls, and rise to broader planes of living. They slide along. Those who drift usually drift down-stream—not up. Adolescence is the time to check this tendency; otherwise it will harden into a life-habit. Too many of our youth today have the “What matters it?” way of living. They are not valiant and determined. They crave new experiences. They are curious to see the seamy side of life. They are strangers to self-discipline. Their character disintegrates. They sink from the higher to the lower levels of life. The saunterer is never a straggler or a victor. The word is suggestive. It is a combination of the words a la sainte terre. The saunterers were easy-going tramps who begged their way through Europe under the pretense that they were pilgrims to the Holy Land. They became in time a menace, vicious and unclean. The world has many idle saunterers who never use their God-given powers in a full-bodied or full-hearted way. The church has its saunterers too. The religious drifter is not much good for anything. He drifts into church and out again. He does certain things that are arranged for him, and performs a nominal service on committees to which he has been appointed. He has no conception of the privilege and duty of living a con quering Christian life. He is often a victim of cross cur rents, which carry him altogether away from the sphere of Christian activities. A citizen of Jonesboro has moved to the big city. He joined the church at Jonesboro when he was thirteen. It seemed the natural thing to do ; the other boys were join ing. He has led a decent life ; it was easier to do that than to break the bounds. He was a Sunday-school teacher when he left town, and one of the ushers at church. Since he came to the metropolis the current away from church life has been stronger than the contrary current, so he goes on his placid way down-stream. He is no boisterous sin ner. Far from i t ! He is simply a genial drifter. His name is Legion. God wants strong men, not water-soaked timber. He wants tug boats rather than loose-joined log rafts. The tug boat knows where it is going, and goes there with vigor and dispatch. The rank and file of church members may not be large enough in brain and heart and will to be ocean liners, but they can be mighty useful as tug boats.— W atchman-Examiner.
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