Sermon Illustration

St. Francis, reflecting on a story he heard of a mountaineer in the Alps, who had risked his life to save a sheep, says: “Oh, God, if such was the earnestness of this shepherd in seeking for a lowly animal, which had probably been frozen on the glazier, how is it that I am so indifferent in seeking my sheep?”

(John 12:21) On a lovely Sunday morning in August we arrived at Osborne. We were desirous of seeing Her Majesty, but did not succeed. We only saw her house, her gardens, and her retainers. Then we went to Whippingham Church, having been told that the Queen would attend service. But again we were disappointed. We only saw the seat the august lady was known to occupy. The ladies and gentlemen of the court came to church, and those we saw; we even heard the court-chaplain preach, but of the sovereign we saw nothing. Well, this was a disappointment we could easily get over. But with me it led to a serious frame of thought. I said to myself: “What if the flock committed to your care should come to church to see the King of kings, and yet through some fault of yours not get to see Him! What if you, the great King’s dependent, detain men with yourself, by your words and affairs and all sorts of important matters which yet are trifles in comparison with Jesus! May it not be that we ministers

At the beginning of the present world war (World War I) it is said that a clergyman appeared before Bishop William Taylor-Smith, Chaplain General of the British army, and applied for a chaplaincy. Because he was a part of the great Church of which the Bishop was a leader, he felt reasonably sure of an appointment. It is said that Bishop Taylor-Smith looked intently at him for a moment, then taking his watch from his pocket, said: “I am a dying soldier on the battlefield—I have three minutes to live—what have you to say to me?” The clergyman was confused and said nothing. Then the Bishop said: “I have two minutes to live—what can you tell me to help my soul?” and still the waiting clergyman made no response. Then said the Bishop solemnly: “I have only one minute to live.” With that the clergyman reached for his Prayer-Book, but the Bishop is reported to have said: “No, not that at such a time as this,” and because the clergyman had nothing to say to the dying soldier upon the battle

Ministers should not be merely like dials on watches, or milestones on the road, but like clocks and alarms, to sound the alarm to sinners. Aaron wore bells as well as pomegranates, and the prophets were commanded to lift up their voices like a trumpet. A sleeping sentinel may be the loss of the city.

We have two dogs. These two mixed-breed mutts are lovable but they can cause a lot of problems. For one thing they like to escape and play with the neighbor’s dogs and kids, so we have to keep them penned up when we’re not out in the backyard. But those dogs don’t like that pen. They’d rather run free. When we first started training them it was a hassle to drive them into the pen. Often we’d get one in the pen and then try to get the other in. When we opened the gate, the first one would run out as we put number two in. Then Lynn discovered a secret which she shared with me. The secret: it’s easier to lead those dogs than to drive them. With two doggie treats we walk outside. The dogs can smell the food and get excited. We walk ahead of them and say “night-night.” They usually beat us to the pen. People are like sheep! The Bible tells us this (Ps. 100:3). You cannot drive sheep. You have to lead them. Likewise, you cannot drive non-Christians into becoming Christians—you must lead

Noah and his family had no doubt spent years building the ark. Now Noah and his family were inside the ark and the Lord Himself had closed the door. The waiting now began. For seven days Noah and his family waited. And waited. I wonder what went through the mind of Noah during these seven days of waiting? Did Noah wonder whether God would be faithful to His promise? Did Noah ever fear his labor had been in vain? These seven days of waiting must have seemed like an eternity! But finally, any questions Noah might have had were answered as the sky began to grow dark and the rain began to fall. The waiting was over! As Christians today we too are in a period of waiting. According to 1 John 3:2 (NKJV), “… it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.” Yes, someday we are going to see the One who walked up Calvary’s hill for us. We are going to be changed as the “mortal puts on immortality” (see 1 C

In Teaching to Change Lives, Howard Hendricks tells about an 83-year-old Michigan woman he met at a Sunday school convention in Chicago. “In a church with a Sunday school of only 65 people, she taught a class of 13 junior high boys. She had traveled by bus all the way to Chicago the night before the convention. Why? In her words, ‘to learn something that would make me a better teacher.’ “I thought at the time, most people who had a class of 13 junior high boys in a Sunday school of only 65 would be breaking their arms to pat themselves on the back: ‘Who, me? Go to a Sunday school convention? I could teach it myself!’ But not this woman. “Eighty-four boys who sat under her teaching are now in full-time vocational ministry. Twenty-two are graduates of the seminary where I teach.” Discipleship Journal

The setting of the less finite into the complete infinite nature Christ calls by various names. Sometimes it is faith: you must believe in God. Sometimes it is affection: you must love God. Always what it means is the same thing—you must belong to God. Then His life shall be your life. “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). Sometimes He seems to gather up His fullest declaration of this vital connection of man with God and call it in one mighty word, Obedience. You must obey God, and so live by Him. —Phillips Brooks

The following quotation is from the pen of D. L. Moody: “I suppose that if you had asked the men in Elijah’s time what kind of man he was, they would have said, ‘He is very peculiar.’ The king would say, ‘I hate him.’ Jezebel did not like him; the whole royal court didn’t like him, and a great many of the nominal good people didn’t like him; he was too radical. Be willing to be one of Christ’s peculiar people, no matter what men may say of you.”

We know very well that when we prune a tree in the right manner, we prune it for fruit, and that we must wait a certain length of time for the fruit to appear; but suppose a man should take his knife and cut the branch, and look, and say, “There is no fruit here, after all?” The gardener would say to him, “Why, my friend, you must have patience, and give the fruit time to develop itself. Wait till next year, or the year after, and then you may begin to look for fruit.” And so the Apostle says, “Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.”

Years ago a famous children’s specialist said to me: “When it comes to a serious illness, the child who has been taught to obey stands four times the chance of recovery that the spoiled and undisciplined child does.” Those words made a lasting impression upon me. Up to that time I had been taught that one of the Ten Commandments was for children to obey their parents. Never had it entered my mind that a question of obedience might mean the saving or losing of a child’s life.

General Elliott, governor of Gibraltar during the siege of that fortress, was making a tour of inspection to see that all under his control was in order, when he suddenly came upon a German soldier standing at his post silent and still, but he neither held his musket nor presented his arms when the general approached. Struck with the neglect and unable to account for it, he exclaimed, “Do you know me, sentinel, or why do you neglect your duty?” The soldier answered respectfully: “I know you well, general, and my duty also; but within the last few minutes two of the fingers of my right hand have been shot off, and I am unable to hold my musket.” “Why do you not go and have them bound up, then?” asked the general. “Because,” answered the soldier, “in Germany a man is forbidden to quit his post until he is relieved by another.” The general instantly dismounted his horse. “Now, friend,” he said, “give me your musket, and I will relieve you. Go and get your wounds attended to.” The so

Obedience must be the struggle and desire of our life. Obedience, not hard and forced, but ready, loving and spontaneous; the doing of duty, not merely that the duty may be done, but that the soul in doing it may become capable of receiving and uttering God. —Phillips Brooks

A wealthy man called on his dentist in great distress over a broken front tooth. The dentist told him it must come out. “No, no, you must build it up,” exclaimed the man of riches. “I can’t spare that tooth. Its removal would make my mouth look like an open port-hole.” “Oh, well, I can replace it,” complacently answered the dentist. “The old one must certainly come out, but I will put in a new one that will make you look better than ever before. It will be firm and regular and much more attractive than the old one.” “Ah!” muttered the wealthy man. “That’s what I want, make it as attractive as possible. Say, doctor, couldn’t you set a large diamond in the middle of it?” “Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that,” replied the dentist, hastily. “Of course I know you can well afford it, but it would look—well, just a trifle too conspicuous, don’t you know.” Perhaps the rich man was only joking, but there are a good many people who wear their profession of religion like that. It is all show and display,

A little boy was seen one day lounging around a circus tent. If there is anything in the world tempting to a boy it is a circus, and, knowing this, a gentleman said: “Come, Johnny, let’s go into the circus.” “No,” said the boy, “father would not like it.” “But your father need not know it,” said the man. “But I will know it,” said the boy, “and when father comes home tonight, I could not look up into his face.” Ah, how important! Able to look into our Father’s face! He has been very good to us. No good thing has He withheld from us, and yet so many times we find ourselves unable to look into His face. God help us to live so close to Himself, so pure and so holy, that all the time we can be able to look into His face.

Mr. Sankey tells the story of his boy who was with him, when a little fellow, in Scotland, and for the first time he possessed what in that country is known as a top-coat. They were walking out one cold day, and the way was slippery. The little fellow’s hands were deep down in his pockets. His father said to him: “My son, you had better let me take your hand,” but he said you never could persuade a boy with a new top-coat to take his hands from his pockets. They reached a slippery place and the boy had a hard fall. Then his pride began to depart and he said: “I will take your hand.” and he reached up and clasped his father’s hand the best he could. When a second slippery place was reached, the clasp was broken and the second fall was harder than the first. Then all his pride was gone, and raising his little hand he said: “You may take it now”; and his father said: “I clasped it round about with my great hand and we continued our walk; and when we reached the slippery places,” said he,

Marriage is a unique human relationship. Good friend-to-friend relationships are rewarding and good parent-child relationships are important. However, according to Scripture, no other human relationship should receive the degree of attention required for a successful marriage, and no other relationship can provide the satisfaction that a good marriage does. In Genesis 2:24 (NASB), God states the unique purpose of marriage, “For this cause a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” Such unity will not happen all at once. And even after unity is achieved, it will have its “ebbs and flows.” Achieving unity is impossible without the power of Jesus to make each partner a child of God—a Christian. Romans 6 teaches us that unity with Christ creates a new person. This new person can then achieve unity with another human being. As we depend on Christ’s power and obey Him, the Holy Spirit provides the strength to do what our own st

Marriage is a covenant, not a contract. There is a big difference. God made a blood covenant with Abraham in Genesis 15 by cutting five animals in two and laying their carcasses on both sides of a path, with God “walking through” these body parts. This represents the absolutely binding nature of a covenant, for it says that “If I ever violate this covenant, may I be torn in two just like these animals.” Have you thought of your marriage covenant in that way? Don’t ever give up on your marriage, no matter what comes your way. When friction festers into fights, new “oil” is needed to relubricate the relationship. When romance disappears into a dull fog of mundane sameness, fresh oxygen is needed to fan the cooling embers into sparks that will rekindle the glowing flames of love. When chronic financial distress threatens the emotional equilibrium of the home; or when dysfunctions and compulsions surface like white caps in the bay to rock the family boat; or when in-law interference, tan

Healthy marriages begin with biblical, practical relationship instruction we give to our teens. It includes giving sound and convincing reasons for sexual abstinence before marriage, raising our teenagers’ standards of expectations regarding the kind of marital relationship they are willing to wait for, instead of settling for second best. It involves developing their biblical self-respect and self-confidence so that it will motivate them to catch the vision to skillfully advance beyond the level of intimacy and harmony between husband and wife which they have seen modeled in their own home. Healthy marriages require strenuous preparation during engagement. At no time in life is a person more motivated to work hard on relational skills than in those few precious months just prior to marriage. That overwhelming sense of optimism and confidence that comes from “feeling in love” provides a unique window of opportunity for a couple-to-be to honestly face issues that normally would be neat

One wintry day Nathanael Hawthorne, the American author, went home with a heavy heart, having lost his government appointment. He cast himself down, as men generally do under such circumstances, and assumed the very attitude of despondency. His wife soon discovered the cause of his distress. But instead of indulging in irrational hysterics, she kindled a bright fire, brought pen, ink, and paper, and then, lovingly laying her hand on his shoulder, exclaimed, as she gazed cheerfully in his face, “Now you can write your book.” The words worked like a magic spell. He set to work, forgot his loss, wrote his book, made his reputation, and amassed a fortune.

“Mommy, what is Christmas?,” asked the three-year-old girl. Her mother carefully explained that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday. “Then why do we not give gifts to Jesus if it’s His birthday?” The mother explained the tradition of exchanging Christmas gifts as expressions of our love for each other, and that seemed to end the matter. It did not come up again until Christmas Eve when a sleepy little girl placed a package under the Christmas tree on her way to bed and explained that it was a birthday gift for Jesus which she was sure He would open during the night while she slept. After she was asleep, the mother not wanting her daughter to be disappointed, opened the clumsily wrapped package and found the box empty. On Christmas morning the little girl was thrilled to find the package had been opened and her gift was gone. “What was in it?” asked the confused mother. “It was a box full of love,” came the answer. How childlike! How Christlike! —Beverly I. White The Christian Reader

A little boy declared that he loved his mother “with all his strength.” He was asked to explain what he meant by “with all his strength.” He said, “Well, I’ll tell you. You see, we live on the fourth floor of this tenement; and there’s no elevator, and the coal is kept down in the basement. Mother is busy all the time, and she isn’t very strong; so I see to it that the coal hold is never empty. I lug the coal up four flights of stairs all by myself. And it’s a pretty big hold. It takes all my strength to get it up here. Now, isn’t that loving my mother with all my strength?” Gospel Herald

When Donna was three years old she gave me a birthday card which ended with, “I love you, Daddy! Donna!” When she wrote “D” for daddy she came to the end of the page and at the beginning of the next line wrote “addy.” Do you think I gave it back and told her to do it right? Of course not. It was full of love and hard work and 3-yearold ability. Her love on the inside came to the outside and showed itself in words and works just like ours should for our heavenly Father.

Every element in our nature is to be under the influence of grace, and we are bound to make the best use of every faculty. We have affections. They are to be set on things above. They are also to go out towards the rest of the redeemed family. They are to become stronger as life advances. Our love is to “abound.” We have understanding. It is to be exercised in reliance on divine guidance. How often we make mistakes in our own wisdom, and then wonder why Providence sends us the troubles these mistakes occasioned! Let us approve things that are excellent, and then we shall have no stumblingblock (“offense”) in our own minds or before others. —John Hall

Human nature is selfish. The new nature is to be affectionate. Much of the Ten Commandments are introduced with “Thou shalt not.” A “new commandment” is positive, and it may well secure our obedience, coming, as it does, from the lips of Jesus, who is Love incarnate. “Love one another,” notwithstanding faults and weaknesses. How unlovely we were; yet Christ loved us! Let us show that we have learned and are learning of Him, by the love we display to one another. —John Hall

A Christian woman, laboring among the degenerate of London, found a poor street girl desperately ill in a bare cold room. With her own hands she ministered to her, changing her bed linen, procuring medicines, nourishing food, building a fire, and making the poor place as bright and cheery as possible, and then she said, “May I pray with you?” “No” said the girl, “You don’t care for me; you are doing this to get to heaven.” Many days passed, the Christian woman unwearily kind, the sinful girl hard and bitter. At last the Christian said, “My dear, you are nearly well now, and I shall not come again, but as it is my last visit, I want you to let me kiss you,” and the pure lips that had known only prayers and holy words met the lips defiled by oaths and unholy caresses—and then the hard heart broke. That was Christ’s way.

Fanny Crosby, the blind songwriter, was at the McAuley Mission. She asked if there was a boy there who had no mother, and if he would come up and let her lay her hand on his head. A motherless little fellow came up, and she put her arms about him and kissed him. They parted; she went from the meeting and wrote that inspiring song Rescue the Perishing; and when Mr. Sankey was about to sing the song in St. Louis he related the incident. A man sprang to his feet in the audience and said, “I am the boy she kissed that night. I never was able to get away from the impression made by that touching act, until I became a Christian. I am now living in this city with my family, am a Christian, and am doing a good business.”

One night of bitter cold and pitiless storm a mother was out in the wilds with her child in her arms. Unable to carry her precious burden and find a shelter, she took off her own outer clothing, and wrapping it about her little one she laid him in a cleft of the rock, and hastened on, hoping to find help. Next morning some shepherds heard the cry of a child, and found the babe safe and warm in the rock’s cleft. Then, not far away in the snow, they discovered the mother—dead. She had died in the cold to save her child. Did not Jesus do the same? —J. R. Miller

That grand old man of English statesmanship, William Gladstone, one day arose in Parliament and solemnly announced that he had a sad statement to make. “Princess Alice is dead,” said he; “and love did it.” Her boy was ill with diphtheria and near to death. The physician had cautioned her not to come close enough to the child to breathe his breath. But the little fellow looked up from his bed, reached out his tiny arms, and said feebly, “Mamma, please come and kiss me.” And she did it, in spite of warning, and at the cost of her own life.

“For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). I have heard of a girl who in an evil hour left her mother—won by the promises of some villain, and traveled to a large city. And there went down to the lowest depths. At last all sad at heart and perishing with hunger she thought she would creep back and see the old home again, and die. Of course her mother would never receive her anymore, but nobody in the village would know her, and it would be good to see the cottage and the flowers of the garden and to hear the birds sing again. And so with heavy heart and wearied steps she wandered on until she reached the little village. It was night when she got there. Footsore and faint she could just stand by the gate, and, dark as it was, the stars would give light enough to see the place—and there she would stand and try to feel again as she had done long ago. But, as she came near, a light glimmered along the path and she saw that it was her mother’s cottag

An opal lay in the case, cold and lusterless. It was held a few moments in a warm hand, when it gleamed and glowed with all the beauty of the rainbow. All about us are human lives of children or of older persons, which seem cold and unbeautiful, without spiritual radiance or the gleams of indwelling light which tell of immortality. Yet they need only the touch of a warm human hand, the pressure of love, to bring out in them the brightness of the spiritual beauty that is hidden in them. —J. R. Miller

A gentleman saw a dozen boys teasing an aged beggar. The gentleman stepped up to them, and taking one of the boys by the collar, he shook him, and took him home (presumably for further discipline). But the other boys he did not meddle with. Now, why did he punish that boy and leave alone the others? Because it was his own son! The very word “chasten,” to make chaste, to make pure, has a depth of significance.

An experiment is being tried in the poorest and most degraded quarters of London, of seeking to arouse an interest in art. The result is very gratifying. The Whitechapel Art Gallery is justifying itself in a way that is surprising some of its keenest supporters. During the first month an average of about ten thousand people a day visited the gallery, and they showed the most intense interest in the pictures. The fact is, human nature is a good deal alike everywhere, and the love of beauty and the longing for knowledge, as well as the possibility of goodness, are in every man and woman. Man does not belong to the devil. Satan is only an invader.

A touching incident has been told of a sixteen-year-old girl who was a chronic invalid, and whose mother was a pleasure-loving woman who could not endure the idea of being much with her shut-in daughter. While the mother was traveling abroad in Italy, she remembered the coming birthday of her daughter, and sent her a rare and wonderful Italian vase. The trained nurse brought it to the girl, saying that her mother had sent it so carefully that it came right on her birthday. After looking at its beauty for a moment the girl turned to the nurse and said: “Take it away, take it away. O mother, mother, do not send me anything more; no books, no flowers, no vases, no pictures. Send me no more. I want you, you!” Don’t give Christ things—only things. He wants you. “Son, daughter, give me your heart.” That daughter wanted her mother. She wanted her presence, her companionship, her love. Christ wants you. He wants you first of all. He wants your yielded heart, your confidence, your trust, your

A little boy had a canary bird which he loved very much. His mother became ill, and the singing of the bird gave her great annoyance. The boy was told by the mother that the bird gave her great pain by its singing. He went at once and gave the bird away to his cousin, and then came home and told his mother that the bird would not disturb her anymore, for he had given it away. “But did you not love it very much?” she asked him. “How could you part with it?” “Yes,” he replied, “but I love you a great deal more. I could not really love anything that gave you pain.” We must love God as this boy loved his mother, more than we love anything else, and also everything that grieves Him we must give up, however much we may like it.

The story is told of a wounded Scottish Highlander, stroking a German spiked helmet, as he lay upon a cot in a London hospital. A nurse said to him, “I suppose you killed your man?” “No, indeed,” was the reply. “It was like this: he lay on the field badly wounded and bleeding, and I was in the same condition. I crawled to him and bound up his wounds; he did the same for me. I knew no German, and he knew no English; so I thanked him by just smiling. He thanked me by smiling back. By way of a token I handed him my cap, while he handed me his helmet. Then, lying side by side, we suffered together in silence till we were picked up by the ambulance squad. No, I didn’t kill my man.”

In Brooklyn one day I met a young man passing down the streets. At the time the war broke out the young man was engaged to be married to a young lady in New England, but the marriage was postponed. He was very fortunate in battle after battle, until the Battle of the Wilderness took place, just before the war was over. The young lady was counting the days at the end of which he would return. She waited for letters, but no letters came. At last she received one addressed in a strange handwriting, and it read something like this—“There has been another terrible battle. I have been unfortunate this time; I have lost both my arms. I cannot write myself, but a comrade is writing this letter for me. I write to tell you you are as dear to me as ever; but I shall now be dependent upon other people for the rest of my days, and I have this letter written to release you from your engagement.” This letter was never answered. By the next train she went clear down to the scene of the late conflict,

A king asked his three daughters how much they loved him. Two of them replied that they loved him better than all the gold and silver in the world. The youngest one said she loved him better than salt. The king was not pleased with her answer, as he thought salt was not very palatable. But the cook, overhearing the remark, put no salt in anything for breakfast next morning, and the meal was so insipid that the king could not enjoy it. He then saw the force of his daughter’s remark. She loved him so well that nothing was good without him.

I remember to have heard a story of a bad boy who had run away from home. He had given his father no end of trouble. He had refused all the invitations his father had sent him to come home and be forgiven, and help to comfort his old heart. He had even gone so far as to scoff at his father and mother. But one day a letter came, telling him his father was dead, and they wanted him to come home and attend the funeral. At first he determined he would not go, but then he thought it would be a shame not to pay some little respect to the memory of so good a man; and so, just as a matter of form, he took the train and went to the old home, sat through all the funeral services, saw his father buried, and came back with the rest of the friends to the house, with his heart as cold and stony as ever. But when the old man’s will was brought out to be read the ungrateful son found that his father had remembered him along with all the rest of the family, and had left him an inheritance with the othe

A pleasant-faced woman boarded a bus with her two small sons during the busy noon hour of the holiday season. The smaller boy sat with his mother upon one side of the bus, while the other, who was about four years old, took a seat opposite. It interested him to look out of the window, but frequently he glanced across at his mother. At length he called softly, “Mother!” “Mother!” This time it was said a bit louder, and the mother looked over and smiled. The boy’s eyes lighted, and he whispered: “Mother! I love you.” The mother turned a glorified face upon her small son, and men and women in the bus looked tenderly from one to the other. The city bus had suddenly become a place of blessing because a little boy had voiced this ever beautiful sentiment: “Mother, I love you.”

He was, at Rome, a prisoner under military custody, chained by the arm both night and day to one of the Praetorian Guard. What passion for souls burned like a pent-up fire in his bones when he not only turned his lodgings into a sanctuary, “receiving all who came to him,” but actually used his close contact with these soldiers as a means of extending his acquaintance and influence. With these sentries he spoke of the great salvation, until, as they relieved each other, he was brought into contact with the whole bodyguard unit in turn; and this is doubtless what he means when in Philippians 1:13 (NIV), he says that his bonds became manifest in Christ throughout the whole of the Palace Guard. Grand man! the clank of whose chain, like the pomegranates and bells on the high priest’s robe, were vocal with the music of the Gospel’s message! who could not be kept from witnessing to Christ and winning souls even by present fetters and prospective martyrdom!

Love blossoms out in inevitable countless kindnesses. And Paul is certain that in proportion as he really loves, he cannot envy…. The envious spirit cannot be kind, and the really kind spirit cannot be envious.

In the Common Pleas Court in Cleveland, Ohio, in the trial of a case, the question was raised as to the affection of a father for his son. A physician testified that when the boy was ill it became necessary, in order to save his life, to secure some living flesh. The father was informed of this, and he unhesitatingly offered to allow the doctor to take as much from his body as he needed for the boy. Thirty pieces of living flesh were literally cut from the father’s body, causing excruciating pain and suffering. In the hospital this was engrafted on the poor suffering boy, and he soon began to show signs of renewed strength. During all this time the father did not seem to notice his own suffering, so great was his sympathy for the child. What a commentary such an incident is on such Scriptures as “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him” (Ps. 103:13) or the other declaration of David, “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take

A prisoner who found Christ and salvation through the kind and loving ministrations of Mrs. Ballington Booth says: “Love melts icebergs. I do not suppose any prisoner in the United States ever heard a public speaker say, ‘I love you all,’ till the sweet words came like a fragrant dew upon a dry and parched earth from her overflowing heart. Of course it worked like magic. The frozen ground began to thaw, icy streams melted into liquid rivulets; new purposes arose in my heart as the sap mounts up a grapevine in the spring when baptized in warm sunshine.” Love is the secret of Christ’s growing grip upon this world; it is the lifting power of which he spoke in his daring prophecy: “And I, if I be lifted up … will draw all men unto me” (John 12:32).

Nicholas Doyle, working in a printing office in New Brunswick, New Jersey, was known in the office as the printer’s “devil,” but proved himself a noble young hero when the building in which he worked was on fire. The fire originated in the pressroom, and Doyle discovered it. Despite the danger, he rushed upstairs, through the thick smoke, and went to every department giving the alarm, and did not think of trying to save himself until all the rest were safe. By that time escape was cut off by the stairway, and he was compelled to jump from the second-story window, but fortunately was not badly hurt. He saved twenty lives by his unselfish heroism. Christian heroism is like that, in that its chief glory is in its unselfishness. To think first of others and put ourselves last is to follow in the footsteps of Jesus.

A little girl eleven years old, who was doing the housework in her home in Elizabeth, New Jersey, during the sickness of her mother, was suddenly horrified to see that her little baby brother had upset the lamp, and his clothing had taken fire. She determined to save the child, and ran with him to a lounge, screaming for help. She rolled him over and over until the flames were put out, although her own clothing had taken fire and she was being burned to death while she was making sure of the baby’s safety. She saved the baby, and he was not badly burned, but the heroic girl died after a few hours. The brave little girl was living in the spirit of Him who, when he was hanging upon the cross, was mocked by his persecutors, with the insulting challenge that was truer than they knew, “He saved others; himself he cannot save” (Matt. 27:42; Mark 15:31).

“We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. He that loveth not his brother abideth in death” (1 John 3:14). During the war in China a village pastor answered a knock at his door and found a Japanese soldier with a Chinese woman outside. He had seen much of Japanese methods and was, therefore, amazed when this enemy soldier said to him, “This woman is in great danger so I bring her to you for safety. I, too, am a Christian. Baron Von Hugel tells the story of what happened during a violent earthquake in the Roman Campagna. It was a scene of terror and death, where the devastations of nature were made more terrible by the panic of the people. Amid the wreckage, however, moved a secular priest, with two infants, one on each arm, and wheresoever he went he brought order and faith and hope into that confusion and despair. That, also, was a demonstration of love’s quiet manner. Its ministry is felt rather than heard.

“But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you” (Matt. 5:44). A slave in the West Indies, called Caesar by his master, had gained his freedom and also became a Christian. One day his lord took him to the slave market in search for some new slaves. After securing all he wanted the owner was surprised to hear Caesar beg for the purchase of yet one more, an old tired Negro. “Why, Caesar, should I buy him? Of what use can he possibly be?” “Please, sir,” replied Caesar, “you must buy him for me.” So the purchase was made and the old man returned to the plantation. Soon after he took sick, very sick, and Caesar cared for him as though he were his father. He washed him, waited on him, nursed him in every spare moment he found. Of course the people all noticed this, and tried to guess why Caesar was so devoted to the old man. Finally his master asked, “What connection do you

When Romney, the great English artist, was young he fell passionately in love with a young lady of the North of England and they were married. But his real passion was his work. One day he heard that Sir Joshua Reynolds had said that it was a pity that Romney had married, as he had the talents for greatness as a painter, and he would not get very far if he was burdened with a wife. Consequently, Romney left his young wife and came down to London. His work was his one passion now. He made good! Portraits of the first people of the land came from his brush, landscapes, that in this day are worth many, many thousands. He was a lion in London for a time. Then he grew old and ill and, gathering his effects together, went back to his wife in the North, and she took him in and nursed him tenderly till he was laid away. And some one has rightfully said that the spirit manifested by that wife was worth more than all the pictures that Romney ever produced. We treat Jesus that way. We forsake Him

There was a ripple of excitement all through the orphanage, for a great lady had come to take little Jane home with her. The girl herself was bewildered with the thought. “Do you want to go with me and be my child?” the lady asked in gentle tones. “I don’t know,” said Jane timidly. “But I’m going to give you beautiful clothes, and a lot of things—a room of your own, with a beautiful bed and table and chairs.” After a moment’s silence the little one said, anxiously: “But what am I to do for—for all this?” The lady burst into tears. “Only to love me and be my child,” she said, as she folded the little girl in her arms. God adopts us, protects, and gives us an inheritance in glory. All He asks in return is that we should love Him and be His children.

A friend of mine employed for five years an ex-convict who had seemed to be converted, and during that time this man handled $24,000 a year of his employer’s money without the misappropriation of a cent. At the close of that time my friend, not having need for him, told his whole story to a gentleman in another city who needed such a helper, and who received this former convict into his employ. Inside of three weeks he was arrested for stealing from his new employer. And when my friend heard of it he went to see him in the jail and said to him: “Ike, how is it that when you worked for me you could be trusted with anything, and that as soon as you came into this new employment you went back to your old dishonest life?” The man burst into tears and said: “I couldn’t help it. He suspected me, and I had to steal.”

An escaped prisoner in the Civil War wandered for many days and nights, seeking the Union lines. At last, in the dusk of the early twilight, he came to a camp which he supposed belonged to the Confederates. Before he knew it he was surrounded by the pickets and captured, to be hurried back to prison, as he thought. But what was his surprise and joy, on looking a little closer, to find that it was the Union blue, and not the Confederate gray, that the soldiers wore! He had been captured by his friends. When he thought that his friends were far away they were all around him. Oh, wanderer, and fugitive from God, lift up your eyes; the hosts of your friends surround you! God is near you. Jesus Christ is by your side. The Holy Spirit is hovering over you. The opening of your spiritual eyes will reveal it all.

A gentleman who thought Christianity was merely a heap of puzzling problems, said to an old minister, “That is a very strange statement, ‘Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.’ ” “Very strange,” replied the minister; “but what is it that you see most strange about it?” “Oh, that part, of course, about hating Esau.” “Well, sir,” said the minister, “how wonderfully are we made and how differently constituted! The strangest part of all to me is that He could ever have loved Jacob. There is no mystery so glorious as the mystery of God’s love.”

A young woman who runs a power sewing machine for fifty hours a week in a factory tells the following story of her married life: “My husband, left an orphan, never had a chance to go to school or learn a trade. He is a hard worker and makes very little money, but he loves me enough to trust me with all he earns. My husband does not go to saloons or places of that sort, and he never goes out for pleasure without me. Do you think it hurts me that he can’t give me fine clothes when every day he tells me I am the best thing God ever gave him? Every night he kisses my hands that have worked so hard all day. We have been married over a year and never a cross word has been spoken. I did not know anyone could be so happy. Do you think I mind working to help a man like that? His love makes everything worthwhile. Here is a man, ignorant of books, with no business training, yet possessing the rare faculty that guides his home life in ways of happiness and peace.

On the tenth of April, in 1852, beneath the African sun, died an American. He was laid to rest in a lonely cemetery in Tunis, Africa. Thirty-one years later, as an act of a grateful public, the United States dispatched a man-of-war to the African coast, American hands opened that grave, placed the dust of his body on board the battleship, and turned again for his native land. Their arrival in the American harbor was welcomed by the firing of guns in the fort and by a display of flags at half-mast. His remains were carried to the nation’s Capital City on a special train. There was a suspension of all business, an adjournment of all departments of government, and, as the funeral procession passed down Pennsylvania Avenue, the president, vice-president, members of the cabinet, congressmen, judges of the supreme court, officers of the army and navy, and a mass of private citizens, rich and poor, stood with uncovered heads. To whom did they thus pay homage? To a man who expressed the longin

The teacher asked the pupils to tell the meaning of loving-kindness. A little boy jumped up and said, “Well, if I was hungry and someone gave me a piece of bread that would be kindness. But if they put a little jam on it, that would be loving-kindness.”

The prompt action of a young woman had saved the life of a man whose arm had been almost severed from his body. When the others were praising her for what she had done, she replied modestly that she deserved no special praise, as her teacher at school had taught her what to do under such circumstances. “Oh, I knew that, too,” exclaimed another young lady, “and if anyone had asked how to stop the flow of blood from a wound, I could have given the answer just as it is in the book; but I never thought of applying it to this case.” The young woman is a typical character. In cases of spiritual peril, a good many of us, who could give the answer “just as it is in the Book,” never think of applying our knowledge for the benefit of those who are in danger. Too many, who know the great Physician for themselves, never seem to think of sending their friends to him.

Learn these two things: never be discouraged because good things develop so slowly here, and never fail daily to do that good which lies next to your hand. Do not be in a hurry, but be diligent. Enter into the sublime patience of the Lord. Be charitable in view of it. God can afford to wait; why can’t we, since we have Him to fall back upon? Let patience have her perfect work, and bring forth her celestial fruits. Trust to God to weave your little thread into a web, though the patterns do not show it yet.

A man may know all about the rocks, and his heart remain as hard as they are; a man may know all about the winds, and be the sport of passions as fierce as they; a man may know all about the stars, and his fate be the meteor’s that after a brief and brilliant career is quenched in eternal night; a man may know all about the sea, and his soul resemble its troubled waters which cannot rest; a man may know how to rule the spirits of the elements, yet know not how to rule his own; a man may know how to turn aside the flashing thunderbolt, but not the wrath of God from his own guilty heart: he may know all that Shakespeare knew—all that Einstein knew—all that all the greatest geniuses have known; he may know all mysteries and all knowledge; but if he does not know his Bible, what good will it bring him?