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T HE K I NG ' S B U S I N E S S
He slept. He had so little estate th a t in o rder to pay H is tax He h ad to per form a miracle* pu tting th e am ount of th e assessm ent in a fish’s m outh and having it hauled ashore. A fter His death th e world ru shed in to tak e an inventory of His goods, and th e entire aggregate was th e garm ents He had worn, sleeping in them by n igh t and trav eling in them by day, bearing on them the dust of th e highway and the sa tu ra tio n of th e sea. P au l did no t gp far from h ittin g th e m ark when He said of th e m issionary P rince: “F o r your sakes He became poo r!” The world could have trea ted Him b etter if it had chosen. It had all the means for making His ea rth ly condi tion com fortable. Only a few years before, when Pompey, the General, re tu rn ed to Rome in trium ph , he was greeted w ith arches and a costly column which celebrated th e twelve m illions of people whom he h ad killed or con quered, and he was allowed to w ear his trium ph al robe in th e Senate. The world had applause for im perial butch ers, bu t buffeting for th e P rince of Peace; plenty of golden chalices for the favored to d rink out of, b u t our Prince m ust pu t H is lips to th e bucket of the well by th e roadside afte r He had begged for a drink. Poor? Born in ano th er m an’s barn, eating a t another m an’s table, cruising th e lake in an o th er m an’s fishing-smack, buried in ano th er m an’s mausoleum! F o u r in spired au tho rs w rote H is biography, and innum erable lives of Christ have heen published, b u t He composed His autobiography in th e most compressed way. He said: “ I have trodden the w ine-press alone.” Poor in the estim ation of nearly all th e prosperous classes. They called Him Sabbath - breaker, wine - bibber, traito r, blasphemer, and ransacked the dictionary of opprobrium from lid to lid to express th e ir detestation. I can th in k now of only two well-to-do men
g reater light, throw ing Its radiance higher in th e sky,' un til th e re was re vealed to th e sta rtled shepherds th e vi sion of a heavenly host, an angelic hand raim ented w ith an effulgence th a t flooded the fields afar, a constellation of imm ortals th a t bejeweled both earth and sky w ith an ineffable illum ination; and from th is holy choir th e re poured fo rth a song of trium p h a n t joy, a chorus of blissful oblation, a symphony of rap tu rou s pronouncement, an oratorio of doxology filled w ith glory and good will: “GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGH EST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOOD WILL TOWARD MEN.” If one of th e g reat princes of th is world steps ou t a t a depot cheers re sound; and th e bands play, and the flags wave. B u t for th e arriv al of th is m is sionary P rince of th e skies no t a torch flared, no t a trum p et blew, not a plume fluttered. All th e music and th e pomp were overhead. Our world opened for H im nothing b etter th a n a barn-door. The R ajah of Cashmere sent to Vic to ria a bedstead of carved gold and a canopy th a t cost seven hund red and fifty thousand dollars, bu t th e world had for the P rince of heaven and earth only a litte r of straw . The Crown jew els in th e Tower of London am ount to fifteen m illion dollars, b u t th is member of etern al royalty had nowhere to lay His head. To know how poor He was, ask th e camel drivers, ask the shep herds, ask Mary, ask the th ree wise men of th e E ast who afterw ard came there. To know how poor He was, examine all th e records of real estate in all th a t O riental Country and see w hat vineyard, or w hat house, or w hat field He owned. Not one. Of what mortgage was He th e mortgagee? Of w hat tenem ent was He the landlord? Of w h at lease was He the lessee? Who ever paid Him ren t? Not owning the boat on which He sailed, or the beast on which He rode, or th e pillow on which
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