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May 1926 The speaker stopped abruptly, his shining face lifted to heaven. In a sea of conflicting emotions I leaned weakly against the side of the car, overcome by the simplicity and sub limity of the description. For what seemed like a long, long minute we stood thus he with his shining.face raised to heaven, and I like one hypno tized with my eyes riveted on him. The tension was broken by the man. As if remembering where he was he drew a sharp breath, and then before I could recall my shattered senses he turned fiercely on me. “ And yet you ask me to promise not to prostrate myself before idols. Me! Me!” Taken aback by the suddenness of the transition I could only gaze at him speechlessly for a moment. Then in voluntarily I raised my hands in the oriental posture of supplication: “ Forgive me, brother. I am very stupid. I did not know.” The fierce look left his face, to be replaced by his habitual look of calm benignity. “ Nay. You are not to blame. How could you know? And many there be who bear the name of Christian who will be found loitering in the neighborhood of the sacred tank this day. But remember this,” and a look of high resolve settled on his features. “ Though all the world prove 1 false to Him, there is just one name before whom Budha and his family will prostrate themselves: "Christ, the Powerful One!” 3 A Mt A CRITICISM OF THE CRITICS Tell me not in scornful phrases The Bible isn’t what it seems; And the things therein recorded, Are not facts, but only dreams. You may think so if you choose to, That’s your privilege, I’ll agree, But the reason is, you’re blinded. By your Bin and cannot see. Isaiah 8:20. The Bible is God’s Revelation Unto man by Spirit breathed; It has stood the tests of ages, By men of evil minds conceived; And it shall remain unshaken, Unto time's remotest day; For the Lord Himself declared it: “ My Word shall never pass away!” Mark 13:31. All its contents are inspired, By the God who all things made; And “ for doctrine” it was given, As its Author thus hath said. It correction, too, doth furnish, And in righteousness direct, That the workman, seeking guidance, Might his way thereby perfect. 2 Tim. 3:16, 17. — Rev F. A. Conners. Flint, Michigan.
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A Catnrl T raill E n te rin g X « « « r ft k The little town of Nazareth is In many ways the same as when Jesus P^yed there as a boy When this camel train passes through the gates, the drivers will stop at Marys well to water the beasts make some witticism about the lien that reads “speed limit 10 miles per hour’ and continue to the live stock market where darnels and horses have been bought and sold for thousands of years.
myself with a start at the sound of the man’s voice as he again took , up the thread of the story. “ Three days and nights passed, as they told me afterwards, though 1 knew not when the day left off aad the night began. At last a strange peace came and smoothed out all the agony and trouble and I knew what I must do. I raised myself from the ground and stood over the bed, while the little circle of relatives fell back in speech less fear, expecting— they knew not what. I took the poor wasted hand in both my own, and looking fixedly into the big eyes riveted on mine I com manded him in a-firm voice: " ‘ Speak! Call upon the name of Christ.’ “ The relatives exchanged fearful looks. They thought I had gone mad with the long strain. But I heeded them not. ‘Speak,’ I cried in a louder tone. ‘Call upon the name of your God.’ “ The poor wasted muscles of the throat moved, the face worked con vulsively. Then a tiny sound came forth, faint and weak like that of a sick lamb on a winter’s morhing. The mother cried out in a sharp fear but I heeded her not. j “ ‘Louder,’ I cried. ‘Say it, Masiha! Masilia!’ With a mighty effort the boy sat erect; a strangled sound burst forth; and then clear and Unmistak able came a glad triumphant cry, ‘Masiha! Masiha!* '*
boy lay there and wasted away. He would take a little milk now and then as we poured It Into his mouth, and he got so he could move his head from side to side, but still he did not speak, and he grew so thin and haggard that nothing seemed left but his big eyes that would follow me hungrily wher- *' ever I went about the house. We all began to feel that the end was near, and my wife became more bitter in her reproaches. “ At last I felt that I must bring matters to a crisis. If my boy died I would learn to be content, but this living death I could not stand. Refus ing all food I sank down on the ground beside his bed in an agony of soul. I neither saw or heeded what was going on around me. When I tried to pray only one expression came to my lips. •O Christ! Thou art the powerful One. Help me!’ ” He paused here, the tears raining . down his cheeks, overcome by the strength of his emotion. In a flash the whole scene unrolled itself before me. The string bed with its wasted form, the prostrate man on the ground, the crowds of curious whispering rela tives, and a fearful woman cowering in a corner with shrouded face, while ever and anon an agonized voice broke through the rustlings and whisper ings; “ Ai Masiha! Tu qudratwala hai! Meri madat kar!” (O Christ! Thou art the powerful One! Help me!) So vivid was the picture that I recalled
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