December! 1930
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
564
“ I will,” the Stranger promised. The boy then/slipped to his feet, and his nurse, with thanks to the Stranger, led her charge away. Out under the stars, the Stranger went his lonely way, stopping next before a magnificent hotel. Through the great windows, crowds could be seen eating, drink ing, dancing, and gambling. There emerged from the door near the Stranger a figure upheld by two men in liv ery, and a third sprang up the steps to assist in his mas ter’s journey to the car below. Strange and dreadful sounds came from the bloated lips of the huge, crumpled body. A sick man? Truly; sin-sick. Dead even, in tres passes and sins. He caught sight of the Stranger and, balancing perilously half in and half out of the car, he hiccoughed, “ Merry Christmas.” “ What does Christmas mean to you?” was the quiet acknowledgment of the greeting. Quickly came the reply, “ Eat, drink, and be merry,— merry,—merry Christmas. Oh, yes,”—as if groping for a thought,— “ oh yes, be merry, for—tomorrow—you die.” “ Are you ready to die?” ® For answer, a fat white hand made a vicious pass at the Stranger but struck, in stead, a cripple. He fell with a crash, his head upon the edge of the stone pavement. In one swift movement, the Stranger lifted and held the limp form in his arms. Opening his eyes, the cripple looked into the tender face bending above him, and a wan smile trembled on his pale lips. Gaspingly, between painful breaths, he whispered, “ Thank you. And a happy—Christmas—to—you.” “ What does Christmas mean to you, dear soul ?” asked the Stranger as he tenderly wiped the damp from the death-stricken brow. “ Christmas—this— Christmas— means— home— to be — forever with—--” The voice trailed into silence, upon a seemingly last flutter of the feeble breath. But suddenly a great light, as of surprise, came into the eyes that looked straight into the face of the Stranger, and in clear, ring ing tones he cried, “ My— dear—Lord !” With the be loved name on his lips and the light of the opening heaven on his face, he wentg-home. The tenantless house of clay was laid upon the pavement, and the Stranger turned now to the drunkard, suddenly sobered, who had stood as if turned to stone since the accident. The long,.searching, pitying look sent a sudden violent tremor through the massive frame; then, as one smitten, he fell at the feet of the Stranger, whose garments he wildly clutched. The desperate hands found themselves imprisoned in a firm, strong, yet curiously gentle grasp, and the desperate eyes wonderingly sought the eyes of the Stranger. As from some long-unstirred deeps, there arose words long ago heard and forgotten, and from the lips sodden with sin, there broke a great cry, “ Lord, Lord have mercy upon me, a sinner.” And yet the unending quest goes on. No one, no place is too low or too high for the seeking Saviour. May this, His birthday time, be a time of great giving of the hearts He made to live in—the only home on earth of Him who gave Himself for us. Then will Christmas mean to you what it means to Him who sent His angels to earth with glad tidings of great joy, what it means to Him who came, heralded by heaven’s high acclaim over sleeping Bethle hem. “ For unto you is born . . . a Saviour . . . Christ the Lord.” “And the angels echoed ’round the Throne, ‘Rejoice! for the Lord brings back His own.’ ”
stand temptation. The Christian soldier can march for ward only when he is in constant contact with the provi sion of everything needful for sustenance and for battle. 7. With his spiritual vision dimmed, the enticements o f the world increased. Pleasures, riches, social standing, fame, power—all these glowed with added attraction and lured him with accelerated speed toward Moab. He did not realize that a vanishing spiritual vision was a danger signal. 8. His attitude toward questionable things became more friendly. When the spring of heavenly joy dries up, the heart naturally turns to other fountains of pleas ure. One may measure his distance from God by the source-of his pleasures. 9. As his connections in Moab were strengthened, his faith in God weakened and became almost negligible. When God and the things of the Spirit are rejected, there remains nothing to develop faith. A fond mother, at great sacrifice, sent her son to col lege. She hoped for great things for her boy. After a time, his letters became less warm and they arrived less frequently. The mother’s heart was deeply grieved. The final blow came when the son returned home, and the mother, emptying his pockets before pressing his coat, found there two of her letters, unopened. He had not cared enough for her letters to read them! If we leave our heavenly Father’s Word unopened week after week, will He not be deeply grieved? Can we afford to treat the Bible thus when a knowledge of God’s will, conscien tiously applied, will enable us to conduct ourselves prop erly, to meet every emergency successfully, and to triumph in every temptation? The man with an unused Bible is more than likely to meet his Lord, when He comes, with shame and confusion; while the man who has ordered his life according to the Word will go forth to meet Him with joy. n What Does Christmas Mean to You? ( Continued from page 557) a richly dressed woman, followed by a servant man laden with parcels, stopped in front of him. “ Can you not find somewhere else to sit?” she coldly demanded. “ Do you not see that you are blocking the way ?” “ She swept past him as he rose, and he, following the servant, entered the church. The ushers at the inner door bowed low and often, and after loud whispers as to the disposition of her ponderous gifts to the poor, she was conducted to her own prominent, costly, lonely pew. The Stranger was unnoticed until a warm little hand stole into his. He looked down into the face of a tiny boy, who drew him silently to his own seat in the very rear. Two little hands were then raised in appeal, and the little body was lifted upon the knees of the Stranger where it nestled with a sigh of content, within the tender, enfold ing arms. A grateful warmth pervaded the chilled Stran ger, and the throb of the little heart that lay against his own was sweeter than the rare music and flowing ora tory of the Christmas service. The child soon fell asleep, and the Stranger’s head drooped to rest upon the golden head pillowed upon his breast. Hearing a whisper, he stooped to listen. “ Mummie dear, I will ask Jesus to make you well. Dear Jesus, do. Soon, please.” Here a sigh that was almost a cry came with the words, “ I need mummie, so much. Amen.” The people rose now, and the child stirred, as if waking. Looking into the face of his friend, he said dreamily, “ You will, won’t you?”
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