Sermon Illustration

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, a soldier belonging to one of the French garrisons in India became enamored of the eyes of Brahma, in the Temple of Seringham. These eyes were diamonds, and were the most brilliant in all the East. Their luster captivated the soldier’s soul. He haunted the temple and pretended to yield to the might of the god, and become a convert to his worship. The priests so far believed in him that he was admitted to some care of the temple. They doubtless thought Brahma would be able to protect his own eyes. But on a stormy night the soldier disappeared, and with him one of the idol’s eyes, the other having resisted all his efforts to dislodge it. So Brahma was left squinting, and the treacherous Frenchman sold his prize to a captain in the English navy for ten thousand dollars. A shrewd Armenian merchant paid fifty thousand dollars for it, and sold it to County Gregory for Catherine of Russia for four hundred thousand dollars. That was the origin of the

Some shipwrecked sailors have been rescued from an island in the Pacific, who had been for ten months anxiously watching for some opportunity of escape. For ten months and ten days they had kept their flag of distress flying from the treetops during the day, and their signal-fires burning by night. They knew no ship would be seeking for them, and their only hope of succor was in making their wants known to some passing ship. At last their signal was seen, and with joy unutterable they beheld a friendly ship bearing down toward the place of their exile. The sinner has more hope than that, “for the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). No man who is finally lost can complain that he did not have a fair chance for salvation.

As the ferry boat St. Louis was nearing mid-stream in the North River, the passengers were startled by a cry of “Stop the boat! My God, stop the boat! My sister has jumped overboard!” It of course attracted immediate attention to the drowning woman, but no one among all the passengers criticized the sister for her passionate outcry or bade her keep still. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that she should evince this deadly earnestness. We need the same passionate earnestness in seeking to save our friends and neighbors who have jumped overboard from righteousness and innocence into the whirling current of sin and worldliness, and will be drowned eternally if not speedily rescued.

“Arise, shine, for thy light is come!” (Isa. 60:1). In the Polar regions the summer season causes much joy and brightness. Every hour is utilized, as they well know that in a few weeks the opportunity will be gone, and the severity of a long winter will again set in. They act as those who believe that the time is short. Such is the “accepted time, the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:2). A brief but precious season. Yet many do not heed this—their only chance of a harvest of eternal bliss before the long winter of death and eternal gloom sets in. “Arise, shine, for thy light is come!”

“Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be though worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God….” (Heb. 10:29). The story is told of a great scientist, a naturalist, who one lovely summer day, went out in the Highlands of Scotland to study under his microscope the heather bell in all its native glory. In order to see its perfection, he got down on his knees, without plucking the flower, adjusted his instrument, and was reveling in its color, its delicacy, its beauty, lost in “wonder, love, and praise.” How long he stayed there he does not know, but suddenly there was a shadow on him and his instrument. He waited for a time, thinking it might be a passing cloud. But it stayed there, and presently looking up over his shoulder saw a Highland shepherd watching him. Without saying a word the scientist plucked a heather bell and handed it, with the microscope, to the shepherd that he, too, might see what he was beholding. The old shepherd put the instrument up to his eye

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). In far off Syria some shepherds still maintain the old practice of calling their sheep by name. An American, doubting that each sheep would respond to its name when called by the shepherd, insisted the shepherd demonstrate. “I wish you would call just one or two,” he said. The shepherd called, “Carl.” The sheep stopped eating and looked up. “Come here,” commanded the shepherd. The sheep came and looked up into the shepherd’s face. He called another and another, and there they all stood looking up into the shepherd’s face. “How can you tell them apart?” asked the American. “Oh, there are no two alike. See, that sheep’s toes are in a little; this one is squint-eyed; and that one has a black mark on its nose.” In fact, every one of those sheep had its own marking. I suppose that is the way the Lord distinguishes His sheep. There is a man that is covetous, he wants to grasp the whole world. He needs a she

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty” (Ps. 91:1). Two Americans were crossing the Atlantic and were singing the hymn, “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.” They were joined by a third man having an exceedingly rich tenor voice. When the music ceased one of the Americans turned to this third party to ask if he had been in the Civil War. The man replied that he had been a Confederate soldier. “Were you at such a place on such a night?” asked the first man. “Yes,” he said, “and a curious thing happened that night; this hymn recalled it to my mind. I was on sentry duty on the edge of a wood. It was a dark night and very cold, and I was not a little frightened because the enemy was supposed to be near at hand. I felt homesick and miserable, and about midnight, when everything was still, I was beginning to feel weary and though I would comfort myself by praying and singing a hymn. I remember singing this hymn— All my trust on Thee is st

At a tea meeting in an English seaside town, a poor woman asked permission to speak. When the minister reluctantly consented, she told a terrible story of sin and wretchedness, culminating in a resolve on her part to murder her husband, if as usual he came home drunk, and then to kill herself. She went to look at the place where she meant to drown herself, and on her return found that someone had laid a tract on her table. She always refused to read tracts, but the title of this one caught and held her attention. It was, “The greater the sinner, the greater the Savior.” This went to her heart, and she cried to the Savior for mercy. To her surprise her husband came home sober and continued so to the end of the week, bringing home his wages. She told him of the tract, and at his proposal they went to church together. Not finding at first what helped them, they went to different churches, till they heard the gospel plainly preached. “And now,” she said, “I hope and believe we are both sav

Years ago there came to the late Canon Hoare, a rich man, then in his old age, to arrange with him about his burial place, and after they had gone carefully over the churchyard, and had chosen the spot where he was to lie, Canon Hoare turned to him and said, “You have chosen a resting place for your body, but have you yet found a resting place for your soul?” Turning around and looking him full in the face, the old man answered: “You are the first clergyman who ever asked me that question.” He went with Canon Hoare into his study, and, to make a long story short, he gave his heart to Christ, and found his resting place, and in Canon Hoare’s study to the day of his death hung a well-known picture representing the saving of a life from a wreck. It was the gift of the grateful man, who had found a resting place not only for his body but for his soul. Ask yourself the question now, before you turn to another page: “Have I found a resting place for my soul?”

A little boy about ten years old was once ordered by his father to go and do some work in the field. He went as he was told, but took little pains about it, and made very slow progress in his task. By and by his father called to him very kindly, and said: “Willie, can you tell me how much you have cost me since you have been born?” The father waited a while, and then said that he reckoned he had “cost him a hundred pounds.” The boy opened his eyes and wondered at the expense he had been. He seemed to see the hundred sovereigns all glittering before him, and in his heart determined to repay his father by doing all he could to please him. The reproof sank deeper into his heart than a hundred stripes. When I read the story it occurred to me: “What have I cost my Savior?” Then I remembered the words, “Ye are not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot” (1 Pet. 1:18, 19).

The moment a man is converted, if he would let himself alone, his instincts would lead him to tell his fellows. I know that the moment I came out of that little chapel wherein I found the Savior, I wanted to pour out my tale of joy. “Now will I tell to sinners round, What a dear Savior I have found; I’ll point to Thy redeeming blood, and say, ‘Behold the way to God!’ ” —C. H. Spurgeon

The Rev. George F. Pentecost tells of a timid little girl, who wanted to be prayed for at a religious meeting in the south of London. She wanted to come to Jesus, and said to the Christian man who was conducting the meetings; “Will you pray for me in the meeting, please? But do not mention my name.” In the meeting which followed, when every head was bowed and there was perfect silence, the gentleman prayed for the little girl, and he said: “O Lord, there is a little girl who does not want her name known, but Thou dost know her; save her precious soul.” There was stillness for a moment, and then away back in that congregation a little girl arose, and a pleading little voice said: “Please, it’s me; Jesus, it’s me.” She did not want to have a doubt. The more she had thought about it the hungrier her heart was for forgiveness. She wanted to be saved, and she was not ashamed to say: “Jesus, it’s me.”

Some years ago a writer of religious fiction told the story of a man named Pam Chick, who was long a drunkard. He was in business, but his business suffered. Then there was a change in his personal appearance and in the appearance of his store. New stock was added; the building was painted. Finally a new sign was put up which read: “Pam Chick and Partner.” Of course there was much curiosity as to the identity of the partner. To all inquiries the reformed man only smiled. At first people thought that anyone would be foolish to enter into a partnership like this, but as time passed and the business prospered, they were not so sure. Then they were all the more eager to know who the partner could be. He must be a farsighted man, they thought, to enter into business relations with Pam Chick. How did he know there would be such a marvelous change in the man? What was the secret of the change? The curiosity was not satisfied till after the death of Pam Chick. Then it came out that the Partn

Sometimes God’s messenger is home influence. Did you ever hear Mr. Torrey, the far-famed evangelist, tell what an awful unbeliever he was when he was a young man, how he went to the deepest depths of infidelity and scouted everything—the Bible, Christ, God, heaven, hell, immortality—everything like that? But his dear mother yearned after him, and loved him, and pleaded with him, and prayed for him, and after awhile he said to his mother: “I am tired of it all, and I am going to leave and not bother you anymore.” She followed him to the door, and followed him to the gate, pleading and praying and loving and weeping, and then at last she said, as her final word: “Son, when you come to the darkest hour of all, and everything seems lost and gone, if you will honestly call on your mother’s God, you will get help.” Years later, as he contemplated committing suicide in a hotel far from home, the last words that his mother had said came back to him. And Torrey said he fell beside his bed and s

When William Wilberforce was brought to Christ he went with fear and trembling to his friend, the great statesman of the day, William Pitt, to tell him of the change. For two hours his friend endeavored to convince him that he was becoming visionary, fanatical, if not insane. But the young convert was steadfast and immovable. He had spent his twenty-fifth birthday at the top wave and highest flow of those amusements—the racecourse and the ballroom—which had swallowed up a large portion of his youth. He had laughed and sung, and been envied for his gaiety and happiness. But true happiness he had never found till he found Christ. And now he laid his wealth and wit and eloquence and influence at the feet of his Lord, his motto being—“Whatsoever others do, as for me, I will serve the Lord.”

Although Charles Wesley had been engaged in preaching the gospel with much diligence and earnestness, he did not know what it was to enjoy peace with God until he was in his thirtieth year. Being laid low by an alarming illness, and seeming as if he were going to die, a young Moravian named Peter Bohler, who was undergoing a course of preparation by him to go out as a missionary, asked him, “Do you hope to be saved?” Charles answered, “Yes.” “For what reason do you hope it?” “Because I have used my best endeavors to serve God.” The Moravian shook his head and said no more. That sad, silent, significant shake of the head shattered all Charles Wesley’s false foundation of salvation by endeavors. He was afterwards taught by Peter Bohler the way of the Lord more perfectly, and brought to see that by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ men are justified. And now in his sick-room he was able to write for the first time in his life, “I now find myself at peace with God”; and it was on this occas

A young Jewish lad named David Mendel, who used to astonish a bookseller in Hamburg by losing himself for hours in volumes so learned that no one else would touch them, was attracted to certain works on Christianity, and read them with glowing interest. He was impressed with the claims which Jesus makes upon humanity, and finally became convinced that He who taught such ethics, and required of His adherents such a life, must be more than a man. For a long time he wavered between fidelity to the teachings of his parents and loyalty to the new conceptions which had entered his soul. At length he could hold his false position no longer, and publicly renounced Judaism and was baptized. To commemorate the change which had occurred in his life he adopted the name Neander, signifying a new man. Such, by a slow but steady process from the first awakening of his mind to the final surrender of his will, was the conversion of the man who has been called the father of modern Church History.

A young soldier, who had led a careless life, but afterwards had become a Christian, described very well the change that had been produced in him when he said—“Jesus Christ said to me, Right about face! And I heard and obeyed Him in my heart.” That is exactly what we call “repentance.” It is a turning-about of the face—from the world to God. But with the face it is a turning also of the heart.

To me it is especially appalling that a man should perish through willfully rejecting the Divine salvation. A drowning man throwing away the life-belt, a poisoned man pouring the antidote upon the floor, a wounded man tearing open his wounds—any of these is a sad sight. But what shall we say of a soul refusing its Savior and choosing its own destruction? —C. H. Spurgeon

A famous scientist tells how that, in the course of his experiments in the mountains, he used to be lowered over a precipice. He would step into the basket, and the men would lower him for his work; but whenever they lowered him, they would always test his weight to see if they could lift him again. One day they let him down farther and farther than ever before, until all the rope at their command was exhausted. When his day’s work was done, he would give the signal, and they would draw him up. But on this night, when they took hold of the rope to lift him, they could not do so. They tugged and pulled and strained, but they could not manage it, and he had to wait until they got additional men to pull him up, and the scientist says that the reason they could not lift him was because they failed to take into consideration the length and weight of the rope. I know why a fifty-year-old man has a hard time to surrender. It is because he must always lift against his past refusals. You say, “

A blessed work of grace had been going on in various parts of Scotland. Many had accepted God’s “great salvation” and rejoiced in their newly-found Savior. Among these was a Mr. Murray, an office-bearer in one of the churches and for fifty years a professor of religion, without, however, the “one thing needful.” One day as Mr. Murray was reading a gospel paper he came across the following statement: “The gospel brings us not a work to do, but a word to believe about a work done.” “I see it all,” said he to his wife. “I have been working away at the keyhole, and the door has been open all the time. My fifty years’ profession goes for nothing, and I get salvation through simply accepting Christ.”

A noted evangelist was once holding a series of services in a church whose minister was a man of long experience and of great influence. One night as they sat on the platform together the minister pointed out to the evangelist a man in the audience. “For twelve years,” he said, “I have tried to win that man to Christ; I have preached to him so long that I sometimes find myself doing it almost unconsciously.” “From the pulpit?” asked the evangelist. “From the pulpit, yes.” “How many times have you gone to him with the love of God in your heart and said: ‘I want to see you become a child of God?’” “I must confess,” said the minister, “that I have never spoken to him personally and directly concerning his salvation.” “Then,” said the evangelist, “perhaps he is not impregnable after all.” That night the evangelist, after the service, caught the man before he got to the door. He spoke only a few words, but they were earnest and loving. And the next evening in the “after service,” in

I once knew an old man who was possessed with a mania for buying up wheels of all sorts. A wheel, whether from a wagon, a cart or a wheelbarrow, possessed peculiar attractions for him; and yet in all his life he never owned even a wheelbarrow. He did not put his wheels to any use. He is a pretty good counterpart of the man the ultimatum of whose idea of successful church work is that of getting people to join the church. A good many churches where this idea has been followed are, therefore, practically nothing more than a heap of wheels and bolts and bars that are of no use because they have been put to none. “Saved to serve” is a good motto, but it implies more than we are sometimes disposed to take into consideration. It means that we must train people as well as save them. It is not enough that we induce men and women to be good; we are to see to it that they are put in the way of becoming good for something.

Are you keeping your vow? Take your devotion for your church. Don’t you remember, when you were converted, how you loved the services of the church? I remember when I first experienced a change of heart—it was in an old schoolhouse in the country. My mother was by my side talking to me. I felt a load roll away from my heart, and I felt good. They were singing that good old hymn: “Come, ye sinners, poor and needy, Weak and wounded, sick and sore; Jesus ready stands to save you, Full of pity, love and power.” I shall never forget my feelings. I wanted to stay there all night and sing. Many years have passed; mother has gone to heaven; the old log house has been torn down; but I love that spot. You felt that way, too. I fancy, when Sunday morning came, you were the first in Sunday School. You were always on hand at prayer meeting. But how about it today? It was so in your giving. At first you gave your money liberally and freely; but now it takes a dozen church collectors to get it out

Dr. J. G. K. McClure tells about an invalid woman residing at Springfield, Illinois, who had been bedridden for seventeen years and was almost helpless. For many years she had been praying to God in a general way to save souls. One day she asked for pen and paper. “She wrote down the names of fifty-seven acquaintances. She prayed for each of these by name three times a day. She wrote them letters telling them of her interest in them. She also wrote to Christian friends, in whom she knew these persons had confidence, and urged them to speak to these persons about their souls’ welfare and to do their best to persuade them to repent and believe. She had unquestioning faith in God. In her humble, earnest dependence upon Him she thus interceded for the unsaved. In time every one of those fifty-seven persons avowed faith in Jesus Christ as his Savior.”

Seeking diversion by fishing in the streams of Scotland, a literary man went from the city with expensive fishing rod and tackle and a complete outfit of the most luxurious kind. After hours of effort without even a bite, he came across a country boy with only a switch for a pole and a bent pin for a hook—but he had a long string of fish. “Why is it I can’t catch any?” the man inquired. “Because you don’t keep yourself out of sight,” the boy quietly replied. This is the secret of fishing for men as well as trout. Hold up the cross of Christ. Send the people away talking about Him instead of praising you.

The Rev. Edward Judson, of the Berean Baptist Church, New York, prints the following note at the end of a list of the services of his church: “A Christian man, deeply devoted, and wise to win souls, made it a rule to speak to some unconverted person every day on the subject of his soul’s salvation. One night, as he was about to retire, he realized that he had not fulfilled his vow that day. He immediately put on his clothes and prepared to go in quest of a soul. But where should he go was the question. He concluded to make a visit to a grocer with whom he was in the habit of trading. He found him engaged in closing up his store. When the errand of his customer was made known he was surprised. He said all sorts of Christians traded with him—Methodists, Episcopalians, Baptists, etc.—but no one had ever spoken to him about his soul. The night visit of his customer and his earnest pleadings made such an impression upon his mind that it led to his speedy conversion.

The steamship Central America, on a voyage from New York to San Francisco, sprung a leak in mid-ocean. A vessel, seeing her signal of distress, bore down toward her. Perceiving the danger to be imminent, the captain of the rescue ship spoke to the Central America, asking, “What is amiss?” “We are in bad repair and going down; lie by till morning,” was the answer. “Let me take your passengers on board now.” But, as it was night, the commander of the Central America did not like to send his passengers away lest some might be lost, and, thinking that they could keep afloat awhile longer, replied: “Lie by till morning.” Once again the captain of the rescue ship called: “You had better let me take them now.” “Lie by till morning,” was sounded back through the trumpet. About an hour and a half later her lights were missed, and, though no sound was heard, the Central America had gone down, and all on board perished, because it was thought they could be saved better at another time.

How many more days do you want to spend in rebellion against God? I am reminded of that little boy who ran to the train. Just as he reached the platform the train moved off and left him. He stood there panting and watching the train, now in the distance. A man said to him: “You didn’t run fast enough!” “No,” said the boy, “I ran with all my might, but I didn’t make it because I didn’t start soon enough.” Many a man will rush up and find the gates of heaven closed, and say, like the boy, “I didn’t start soon enough.”

A lady had a very important lawsuit on hand for which she needed the services of an advocate. She was strongly urged to secure the help of a very prominent and well-known lawyer, but she could not make up her mind to entrust her case to anyone. Time passed on, and at last she was compelled to take steps to secure an advocate, and called upon the great lawyer who had been mentioned to her. He listened while she expressed her wish to engage his help, but in a few minutes he said with a grave face: “Madam, you are too late; had you come to me before, I would gladly have been your advocate, but now I have been called to the bench, and am a judge, and all I can do is to pass judgment upon your case.” Now is the day of grace, and the Lord Jesus Christ is our Advocate, ever pleading the merits of His precious blood, but the day will come when He will be the Judge of sinners, and must pass sentence upon them.

Human nature is too bad to be improved, too dilapidated to be repaired. Here is a cracked bell. How can it be restored? By one of two methods. The first is to repair the bell, to encompass it with hoops, to surround it with bands. Nevertheless, you can easily discern the crack of the bell in the crack of the sound. The only effective way is to remelt the bell, recast it, and make it all new; then it will ring clear. And human nature is a bell, suspended high up in the steeple of creation, to ring forth the praises of the Creator. But in the fall in Eden the bell cracked. How can it be restored? By one of two ways. One is to surround it with outward laws and regulations, as with steel hoops. This is the method adopted by philosophy, as embodied in practical statesmanship, and without doubt there is a marked improvement in the sound. Nevertheless, the crack in the metal shows itself in the crack of the tone. The best way is to remelt it, recast it, remold it; and this is God’s method in

A terrible storm swept the Atlantic and hurled the billows upon the coast of England and a ship was thrown on the rocks. The night fell dark and lowering. The storm rose higher as the night deepened. Fires were kindled all along the shore, if by any means to help those who were needing help. The lifeboat was manned. Out through the breakers and into the storm they went to the rescue. By and by they came back with all on board except one man; and John Holden, who stood upon the shore, cried: “Do you have all the ship’s company?” They answered, “All but one man.” “Why did you not get him?” “Well, our strength was nearly gone, and if we had tarried long enough to rescue him we all should have been engulfed in the pitiless sea.” Then John Holden said: “These men who have been to the rescue are nearly exhausted. Who is there who will go with me to rescue the one man?” and six sturdy fellows came promptly forward. Then John Holden’s mother threw her arms about his neck and said, “John, do

Mr. Innis, a great Scottish minister, once visited a lost man who was dying. When he came for the first time he said, “Mr. Innis, I am relying on the mercy of God; God is merciful, and He will never damn a man forever.” When he got worse and was nearer death Mr. Innis went to him again, and he said, “O, Mr. Innis, my hope is gone; for I have been thinking, if God be merciful, God is just, too; and what if, instead of being merciful to me, He should be just to me? What would then become of me? I must give up my hope in the mere mercy of God; tell me how to be saved!” Mr. Innis told him that Christ had died in the stead of all believers—that God could be just, and yet save the justified through the death of Christ. “Ah!” said he, “Mr. Innis, there is something solid in that; I can rest on that; I cannot rest on anything else”; and it is a remarkable fact that none of us ever met with a man who thought he had his sins forgiven unless it was through the blood of Christ. Meet a lost man; he

“From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say, Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” (Matt. 4:17). J. R. Miller writes the following on this passage of Scripture: “Christ’s first call of His ministry, like John the Baptist’s was a call to repentance. All men need to repent. We never can reach the gates of heaven unless we repent. The prodigal son had to rise and leave the far country, and walk back all the painful way to his father’s house, before he could be restored to favor and be at home again. That is what every impenitent man and woman must do. The first step in coming to Christ is repentance. “We must be sure that we know just what this word means. Some people imagine that if they are sorry for doing wrong they have repented. But sorrow for a wrong way does not take us out of that way. Tears of penitence will not blot out sin; we must turn about and walk in holy paths. Repentance is ceasing to make blots on the record, and beginning to live a fair, clean, white l

The hell to which the dissipation of strong drink leads could hardly be more graphically illustrated than by a story which the Bishop of London told of the way the children of the drunken poor reason from the horrible experiences of their own sad lives. A little London girl from the slums was being examined on the parable of the Prodigal Son. The teacher had gotten as far as the repentance of the prodigal, and his eating of the swinehusks, when she inquired, “What else could he have done?” The child replied, evidently speaking out of her experience, “He could have pawned his little girl’s boots!”

To repent is to begin over again in devotion to the better thing we should have done. That is the very alpha of the gospel. And we begin over again not with tears but with joy. The very sins and blunders of the past may be caught up into some divine atonement that may make grace and joy to abound. That is the omega of our gospel. When sin abounded, grace did much more abound (Rom. 5:20).

A man and his wife, nominal Roman Catholics, living in one of the darkest spots of London, were induced to attend one of Dr. Pentecost’s meetings. No words could describe the brutal character of the man: his poor wife was quite blind from his ill-treatment. He listened with intense astonishment, and his conscience became more and more aroused. On being asked if he and his wife would like to have the question of sin settled, he was shown into the inquiry room, holding by the hand his sightless wife. On leaving the inquiry room, she remarked: “True, my sight is gone, but the Lord has given me back my husband; for it was the drink made him do it.”

During a series of evangelistic services in Ireland, I spoke to a young man who was deeply convicted of sin. I showed him from the Bible God’s word for him, and he accepted it with the same faith he had exercised in believing the word against him. The effect was similar in both cases: feeling followed, and was the result of believing the news. On his knees he thanked God; then he pressed my hand and thanked me for “helping” him, and went on his way rejoicing. Three nights after, to my surprise and disappointment, I found him sitting in the inquiry meeting looking the picture of misery. “What’s wrong?” I said. “I was too precipitate the other night; there is no change in me.” “No, sir; that is not the reason. You have not confessed Christ.” He almost jumped up with amazement. “How do you know? Who told you?” “Nobody told me, nor needed to tell me. When a man goes away trusting one night, and comes back doubting the next, it is an infallible sign that he has not confessed Christ.” He t

One evening, in 1859, a young schoolmaster, intent only on fun and frolic, went to a prayer-meeting. He heard asked in the most solemn manner, the startling question: “How shall you escape if you neglect so great a salvation?” “Well, truly,” he said in his own mind, “that is a puzzle. I am neglecting the great salvation. I cannot escape.” He walked slowly home. He would like to be a Christian, he thought; but how could he? He must give up his wicked companions. How they would laugh at him if he did not go to the same places, and lead the same life as before! And then, if he took his stand among Christians, he would fall back again into sin; and what disgrace he would bring upon religion! A still small voice whispered to him: “My grace is sufficient for thee.” Then and there, on the road, on that calm summer night, he resolved, to use his own words, “to leave himself in the hands of Jesus, and set to his duty cheerfully.”

An American physician stated that he had known a hundred or more instances, in his practice, of people who, in prospect of death, had been hopefully converted, but had afterwards recovered. Of all these he only knew of three who devoted themselves to the service of Christ when they got well. An English doctor once told that he had known three hundred sick people profess repentance and faith when they thought they were dying, but who afterwards recovered. Only ten of these gave evidence of reality by a change of life.

George Whitefield had a brother, who had lived far from the ways of godliness; and one afternoon he was sitting in a room in a chapel house. He had heard his brother preach the day before, and his poor conscience had been cut to the very quick. Said Whitefield’s brother, when he was at tea: “I am a lost man,” and he groaned and cried, and could neither eat nor drink. Said Lady Huntingdon, who sat opposite: “What did you say, Mr. Whitefield?” “Madam,” said he, “I said I am a lost man.” “I’m glad of it,” said she; “I’m glad of it.” “Your ladyship, how can you say so? It is cruel to say you are glad that I am a lost man.” “I repeat it, sir,” said she; “I am heartily glad of it.” He looked at her, more and more astonished at her barbarity. “I am glad of it,” said she, “because it is written, ‘The Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost.’” With the tears rolling down his cheeks, he said: “What a precious Scripture; and how is it that it comes with such force to me? O! Madam,

In every building the first stone must be laid and the first blow must be struck. The ark was 120 years in building; yet there was a day when Noah laid his axe at the first tree he cut down to form it. The temple of Solomon was a glorious building; but there was a day when the first huge stone was laid at the foot of Mount Moriah. When does the building of the Spirit really begin to appear in a man’s heart? It begins, so far as we can judge, when he first pours out his heart to God in prayer. —Bishop J. C. Ryle

I read of a boy that left home to make a way for himself in the world. As many before him, so had he wasted his substance, and the inevitable time of reckoning came. He sought assistance from friends and companions, but in a little while they all grew tired of helping him. In his last distress he determined to write home. “Dear Father,” the pathetic appeal ran, “I am ill and undone. I have been foolish and sinful and have forgotten the spirit of your home. I want to get well, live right and be a man. But I cannot unless you help me. I deeply need your help, and I think you love me enough to forgive all, and to help me now. Will you come?” The next train found that father speeding on his way to his needy son, to put his strength, his character, his resources at the service of the son who was to be placed once more on the road to manhood. That father was a paraclete, a called one, a friend that soothes and strengthens and inspires. It was in this sense that the Greeks used the word “para

Reformation is no more the whole of Christianity than cultivation constitutes the whole of successful farming. A farmer may plow and harrow his ground every day of the summer and not permit a single weed to grow; that would be a high state of cultivation; but if he plants no seed in his field he will gather no crop in the autumn. Simply ridding your life of the weeds of undesirable habits, without planting the seeds of Christianity in your heart-garden, is as great a folly as for a farmer to cultivate his ground all summer and sow no seed. Repentance pulls up the weeds now growing and plants the seeds of righteousness. The man who attempts to improve by reforming is whitewashing his life, while the one who repents washes white his life, and there is a vast difference between the two processes. Morality can never save anybody. Painting the pump does not kill the typhoid germs and purify the water in the well. You may have literary circles and culture clubs, Carnegie libraries and school

There is one person in your church Who knows your preacher’s life Who wept and smiled and prayed with him, And that’s your preacher’s wife. The crowd has seen him in his strength, When wielding God’s sharp sword, As underneath God’s banner folds He faced the devil’s horde. But deep within her heart she knows That scarce an hour before, She helped him pray the glory down Behind the closet door. She’s heard him groaning in his soul When bitter raged the strife, As, hand in his, she knelt with him For she’s the preacher’s wife! You tell your tales of prophets brave Who marched across the world, And changed the course of history, By burning words they hurled. And I tell how back of each Some woman lived her life, Who wept with him and smiled with him— She was the preacher’s wife. —Author unknown Baptist Challenge

Much of a pastor’s success results from his wife’s prayers, steadiness, encouragement, and correction. Her contentment rests largely on his recognition of her as his help-meet. Perhaps no one in the entire church has as difficult a job as the pastor’s wife. But if her husband praises her (Prov. 31:28), he will find her his greatest support. She will be blessed by knowing they both serve Christ. We have to understand that the model of our family life outweighs our finest messages. The church looks beyond the sermon and into the home. —David S. Gotaas From “Who’s Keeping Your Vineyard?” Moody Monthly

“Brethren, pray for us” (1 Thess. 5:25; 2 Thess. 3:1). Paul makes this request seven times in his epistles. He knew that the success of the minister depended largely on the prayers of God’s people. Some congregations seem to be pervaded largely by a heavenly atmosphere. You feel its hallowed influence the moment you enter the house. It matters not how rich may be the tones of a bell; if it be struck in vacuo or under water, you get no sound, or only a heavy thud; strike it in the air and how mellow its notes ring out. So with preaching in or out of the atmosphere of devotion. A praying people make a strong pulpit. A Paul may plant and an Apollos may water, but it is God who gives the increase, and He gives it only in answer to prayer.