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THE K I N G ’ S B US I NE S S
tance. As the brakeman passed through the woman said; “ Don’t forget me,” and he answered, “ Surely not.” Then a man sitting near spoke up. “ Lady, don’t you worry. I will see that you get off at the right place.” Some time later the train slowed up and stopped and this same man called out, “ Here’s your station.” She stepped out of the train into the storm. After the train had gone on some time, the brakeman came through and asked, “ Where’s that woman?” The traveling man said, “ She got off.” The brakeman said, “ Then she’s gone to her death. We only stopped the train yonder because there was something the matter with the engine.” Tliey called for volunteers and went back to look for her. They searched for hours and finally found her out on the prairie, covered with a shroud of ice and snow woven about her by the pitiless storm, with the little frozen babe folded to her breast. Great was the crime of the man who wrongly directed her. Greater is the crime of preachers and teachers who say, Peace, when there is no peace. They are blind leaders of the blind. Is it any wonder that Paul heaps up and hurls anathemas and maledictions ui>on those who pervert the Gospel of Christ, be they men or angels, Gal. 1:7-9, and present another Jesus, another spirit and another Gospel! We are travelling across the continent of life toward the shoreless sea of Eternity. It makes no difference whether we travel first, second or third class, we shall reach a common destina tion. As the train slows up and stops, there comes a be-ribboned and be-diz- ened old lady mincing down the aisle and calling to the passengers,. ‘This is my station. You had better get off here. This is enchanted ground. There is no discomfort, disease or death. They are but figments and errors of the mortal mind. Here are fragrant flowers, fair est fruits and fadeless foliage. Birds are
singing in the trees and fountains play ing in the gardens. Here is happiness and life indeed' The poor deluded woman sees but a mirage upon the desert, tenuous and fleeting as the baseless fabric of a dream. There is nothing there but prickly cacti, poisonous reptiles and burning desert sands. After another day of travel, the night comes on and the train slows up and stops again in some mountain gorge. A benignant-looking and be-whiskered old gentleman marches through the train crying, “ This is the station. Every body get off here. Hell is a joke. God is too good to punish you, and will give you a better chance in the life to come than you get here. I am the only living man who understands the schedule of this road and wisdom will die with me.” Outside storms are gathering, torents are rushing down the canyons, and wild beasts are lurking in the darkness. Friends, the preacher of the Gospel may be only a humble and insignificant trainman but he need not be ashamed to wear the livery of the Christian faith and to stand upon the historic tenets of orthodoxy and to live by the schedule of the Bible. Keep your seats! Sit tight, I say! Don’t let the devil side-track you? The journey’s end is not far off! The Judge standeth at the door. MERELY A MISUNDERSTANDING A boy at family worship asked, “ Let’s sing the hymn about the little boy who stole the old man’s watch,” and, when remonstrated with, rejoined that they sang it in Sunday School, and pointed triumphantly to the verse of “Hushed was the evening hymn,” which began: “ The oid man, meek and mild, The priest of Israel, slept; His watch the temple child, The little Levite, kept.”
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