Chapter VIII: Part 8

“The _Lord_ is my shepherd.” It is not a man nor even an angel who is my shepherd; it is the _Lord_, the almighty One—he who created all things, who stretched out the heavens, who upholds all by his might; the Lord who speaks and it is done; the Lord who wills and it comes to pass; the Lord unchangeable, unfailing, glorious in strength, perfect in wisdom and understanding. Baal is not my shepherd, but he who sits upon the throne of the heavens, whose face is as the lightning and whose words are as the rolling thunders, whose love is more tender than a mother’s, whose touch is as soft as the kiss of a sunbeam, whose eye is tender with pity, and whose heart is a fount of compassion—this is the Lord, my shepherd.

“The Lord _is_ my shepherd.” Yes, he _is_. There was no questioning with the Psalmist; it was to him a positive reality. He did not doubt it in the least. He was as sure of it as he was of his own existence. But he was not any more sure than we can be. Repeat the text over a few times with strong emphasis on the “_is_.” This will help you get the kernel out of it. If you are a little doubtful, keep going over it until the “is” really means _is_ to you.

“The Lord is _my_ shepherd.” Yes, he is _my_ shepherd. It is I for whom he is caring. It is I over whom he is watching. It is I who can safely trust him. I may see him looking with favor on others, helping, blessing, and strengthening them, but he is _my_ shepherd, so I may with confidence look for him to give me the same kind of treatment that he gives the other sheep. The shepherd has made promises. He is _my_ shepherd; therefore I belong to him and have all claims upon him that any sheep has.

“The Lord is my _shepherd_.” To others he may be a judge, austere and stern. Some see him as a tyrant, some see him as one to be feared, but he is my _shepherd_. Being my shepherd and the “good shepherd,” he will care for me. He will care for my safety. He will keep me in his fold from the ravenous beasts; he will protect me. Into pastures green he will lead me. By the still water I shall rest secure. He is “my shepherd.”

This brings out only to a small degree the richness of the text, but it illustrates the manner in which we should study the Scriptures if we are to get the “kernel”; but we should carefully avoid every tendency to read into any text what it does not teach. It is all right to read a chapter or a number of chapters; but you will get more soul-food by taking a little and studying it well. Study each word carefully by itself and in relation to the other words of the sentence. Follow this method of study until it becomes a habit, and it will unlock to you rich storehouses of heavenly truth. Your soul will find a feast wherever you go in the Sacred Book. There is in every scripture a “kernel.” Do not be content until you get it out.

TALK FORTY-NINE. TWO SUNSETS

We stood on the brow of the hill gazing out over the valley beneath us. In the distant west the sun sank quietly and serenely toward the horizon. The purpling shadows of the hills grew longer in the valley. The clouds overhead, which scarcely seemed to move, were in broken, fluffy masses. As we gazed upon the scene, the sun as a mighty king in stately majesty and resplendent glory sank to his evening repose. The clouds caught the afterglow, looking as if a gigantic brush had swept across the sky scattering gold and orange and crimson and purple. The sun had gone, but the glory of his vanished presence still lingered in the beauty of the clouds.

At the close of another day we stood on the same hill-top. The sun was hanging low. The purpling shadows lengthened in the valley. The sun did not sink in glory tonight, but passed out of sight into a bank of dark and threatening clouds. The voices of the day were stilled. A solemn and foreboding hush seemed over all, and our spirits felt the general gloom. There was no afterglow. There was no resplendent painting of the sky. All was somber and gloomy; nature seemed to await what would come, in expectancy and awe. And as the darkness fell, we saw a gleam of lightning play across the distant cloud.

How like the sunsets of some lives were these two sunsets! In my mind, unfading while I live, are the memories of two life-sunsets. When but seven summers had passed over my head, my little sister and I were at a neighbor’s two or three miles from home. In the early twilight a horseman came galloping down the road bearing the fateful news that Mother was dying. Quickly placing me behind him on the horse and taking my little sister in his arms, he galloped away through the early night.

When we arrived at home, we found the house filled with neighbors. Upon her bed lay Mother with pallid face. Through the hours of the night we watched by her bedside. About three o’clock in the morning she asked them to sing that old song “Shall We Gather at the River?” With choking voices and tear-dimmed eyes the little band of neighbors sang the song. The eyes of the sufferer gazed stedfastly above. A heavenly light beamed forth from her countenance. A smile of joy was upon her face. Presently she called the sorrowing relatives one by one and bade them a last good-by. I fell upon my knees by her bedside and sobbed out my childish grief. She turned and looked fondly down upon me and, laying her hand upon my head, said, “Charlie, be a good boy and meet me in heaven.”

A little while she was quiet. Then her life’s sun sank to its rest. But the afterglow of that beautiful life still shines in that community. Circumstances later took me far away; but after sixteen years, I again stood upon the scene, and over and over during my stay the neighbors told me of her beautiful Christian life. Many a time during those years when I was tempted to do evil, I would behold that scene again, and those last words of my sainted mother would ring in my ears; they stood as a bulwark between my soul and evil.

The same afternoon that the message so dreadful came to me grandmother visited a neighbor who was drawing near to his life’s sunset. When she came back, she told what passed while she was there. The man was a skeptic. There was no life beyond the grave for him. There was no hope of reunion around the throne of God. Grandmother spoke to him of his approaching end and asked him if he was prepared. His answer I shall never forget. Young as I was, it struck me with terrible force. With a look of deepest melancholy on his face he said, “It is taking a leap into the dark.”

A few days later he passed away, and he and mother lie there in the little country cemetery waiting till the voice of the Son of God shall call them forth. But ah, the difference between those two life-sunsets! One left the glorious hope of a Christian shining forth, tinting the sky with beauty; the other’s sun sank into a dark cloud of despair, lighted only with the lurid glare of the lightning of God’s wrath.

Reader, what will be your life’s sunset? Will it be serene and calm and peaceful, lighted up with glory from the throne of God, or will it be dark, without a promise or ray of hope? You are fast hastening to that hour. It may be nearer than you think. If you live without God, you will die without God. Take a view of yourself now. Would you like for your life’s sunset to find you as you now are? If not, what assurance have you that it will be different? Good intentions will never change it. Good desires will never change it. God only can make you ready for that hour. Unless you seek him, you too will take a “leap into the dark”; for you there will be only the “blackness of darkness forever.” “If ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart.”

TALK FIFTY. THE SCULPTOR’S WORK

One day years ago, as I was walking along in the suburbs of a city, I came to a large shed with wide-open doors. My attention was attracted by the sound of blows; and as I came opposite the door, I saw some workmen at the back end of the shed busily at work. Near the door on a small platform stood a large irregular piece of stone. Standing by it was a man with a large chisel in one hand and a heavy mallet in the other. As I looked he walked up to the stone and began to knock great pieces off it with chisel and mallet. I paused to watch him, my curiosity aroused to know what he was doing in his apparently aimless work.

As I watched, he continued breaking large flakes and pieces from the stone; and so far as I could see, he was just simply breaking it to pieces. I wondered what he wanted such pieces of stone for. But presently he began to kick them out of the way as if he had no use for them, and so I wondered still more what he was doing. After a time he stepped over to his work-box, took another chisel and a lighter mallet, and began to knock off more pieces of the stone. For a long time this continued. I could not tell what the outcome would be. So far I had seen nothing but destruction. From time to time he changed tools; but still he cut away pieces of stone in the same seemingly aimless fashion. At length he began to cut depressions into the stone here and there.

A long time I watched him, still wondering. At last he made a few quick strokes on one end of the stone, and I saw the outline of a head appear. A few more strokes, and I exclaimed within myself, “A lion!” I watched until the head became more distinct and life-like. Then under the quick strokes of the biting chisel, one paw appeared, then another; and as I watched, the whole figure took outline, and I knew that what seemed to be only an aimless work of destruction was instead the skilled work of a sculptor.

I had seen only the block of stone; but within that block of stone he had seen the beautiful figure of the king of beasts. The work that seemed to me to be without purpose, now proved to have been full of purpose. The pieces of stone cut off were merely so much waste-material that hid the beautiful statue.

I knew now that what would be left of the stone after the sculptor had completed his work would go to adorn some fine building and to be looked upon and admired by many people. No one had admired it in its former state. It was only a block of stone, unattractive and of little value. But it would now be a thing of beauty to be treasured. Yet that change could take place only when the sharp steel had bitten away all useless parts.

I went away thoughtful. I realized that that was a great allegory of life. The great Sculptor sees in every human being, no matter how rough and irregular, great possibilities. Whereas we can see only the exterior, he sees within the potential image with which he would adorn his glorious building above. Man was created in the image of God, but that image is now obscured by sin and its results. And so the divine Sculptor must do with us as the sculptor did with the stone. He must bring to bear upon us the sharp chisel of circumstances, of disappointment, of trial. It seems that these things will destroy us. It seems that these things are evil, and we shrink from them. Some think that God is not just toward them. Some cry out in pain. Some mourn and lament. Some cry to God to stay his hand. And many, oh, how many! rebel. They can not see what it means. They feel that it is all wrong. Sometimes they murmur against God and their hearts grow bitter; but all the time the Master Sculptor with his sharp chisel of pain is only trying to carve in their natures and characters his own image.

You want to be in his image, do you not? You desire the beautiful lines of righteousness, purity, truth, meekness, faithfulness, and kindness to appear in you. You want to be a part of the adornment of the heavenly temple. If you would be not a mere block of stone without form or beauty, but the image of the Creator, you must let Pain do her work in you; there is only one way. Christian character comes only through pain. If you shrink and murmur or if you rebel, that image may be marred forever.

Think not that God will let your life be ruined. He wants you for the adornment of his palace. So when pain comes—the pain of sorrow, of bereavement, of temporal loss, of being reproached and having your name cast out as evil, of being wounded by the tongue of slander—in whatever form pain comes to you, hold still; bear it patiently; it will work out in your life God’s great design.

Would you have patience? You must have many things to try your patience. Would you have meekness? You can obtain it only through endurance. Would you have faith? You must meet and overcome many obstacles. God puts in us latent qualities of good, but these can be brought to view in the solid structure of Christian character only by long and continued chiseling. “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you” (1 Pet. 4: 12). “Which _is_ to try you”—did you ever notice that? It does not say which _may_ try you or which _probably_ will try you; it says, “Which _is_ to try you.” That signifies that it was _intended_ to try you. It was meant for that purpose; it does not come by accident. Trials are necessary. If you are ever to be what God wants you to be, you need trials, you must have them; you can never be strong or patient or meek or brave or possess any other virtue God wants you to have unless you stand the test. “Many shall be purified, made white, and tried.” God will do the purifying; and he will also see that we get our “trying.” “After that ye have suffered a while,” Peter says, God will “make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.”

The chisel pain must do its work. Even Jesus was “made perfect through suffering.” Let us bear it manfully, yea, joyfully, knowing that it will leave its mark upon us, even the mark of our Lord Jesus Christ. It will bring out the beauty and richness of the Christ-life and fit us to be in His presence forever.

TALK FIFTY-ONE. THE HELPLESSNESS OF THE GOSPEL

Much has been said about the power of the gospel. It is “the power of God unto salvation.” By it millions have been redeemed and cheered and comforted and inspired. Others have been warned in tones of thunder to awakened consciences. It has been the greatest civilizer known. But however great its power and influence, however wonderful its accomplishments, there are conditions under which it is pitifully helpless, under which it can do nothing to help the perishing masses. You may take your Bible into a heathen land or to a race of another language, and though all its truth, its promises and warnings, its light and glory, are within its lids, yet it is dumb. It speaks not to them. They perish all around it. They remain in darkness, when light is there, heavenly, glorious light. Not a ray reaches them. It is helpless. It is voiceless; it speaks not to them its story of love. In your own home it may lie closed and silent. Visitors come and go, but it helps them not. Your children hear not its voice. Your neighbors receive not its counsel, warnings, nor promises. How helpless it is! Oh the many dumb Bibles in our land! If they only had tongues, what messages they would speak to the people! You have a tongue. Do you not often use it in a way that is of little profit either to you or to others? The Bible has no tongue to use. Will you lend it yours? Will you let it speak its message with your tongue? Must your neighbors be lost because your Bible has no voice? O brother, sister, let your Bible be no longer dumb. Give it a tongue. There are hearts all around you needing its truth. Will you speak for it? A silent and voiceless Bible—what can be more helpless?

Again, if a tongue be lent it and its message be spoken and repeated again and again, what can it do if it is not believed? It is the power of God in this world only to “them that believe.” If we will not believe it, it can do us no good. It can not save or comfort or heal unless it is believed. Will you give it a believing heart? Unless you do, it is absolutely powerless to help you. Oh, how helpless is an unbelieved Bible!

And though it have a voice and speak ever so clearly, what can it do if the ears be closed against it? If “having ears, we hear not,” but close our minds and hearts against its voice, it will profit us nothing. It can help not the least. Oh, give it a listening ear and heart!

The Bible has no hands. It can not reach out to the needy nor go about doing good. It can not clothe the naked nor feed the hungry. Why not give your hands to the gospel’s use, that it may not be longer helpless?

It has no feet. It can not go from place to place, but must remain supine wherever it is put. It is a poor “shut-in.” Who will pity its helplessness and give it feet, that it may go to the nations?

It has no money. It is as poor as a pauper. It can not pay its way to the yearning, hungry souls that await its coming. It needs its way paid to India, to Africa, to China. It needs to go to the ends of the earth. You can send some of its messages afar for a few cents, and perchance thus help it to reach a soul ready and waiting that will otherwise be lost. There are tongues ready to speak for it; there are feet ready to run with it; but who will pay its fare? Have you money and houses and cattle and lands, and yet are not helping this helpless gospel on its mission of mercy? Must it fail to reach the people, that you may consume your means for the gratification of the flesh? Might not the money you have spent the past year needlessly, have sent the gospel to a number of lost souls?

Oh! pity the poor Bible, which has no tongue, no hands, no feet, and no money! How will it reach the lost? Give it your hands, your feet, your tongue, your pocketbook. Behold the countless throngs going down the broad way. Listen to the groans of the lost. Behold your own friends and neighbors and perhaps your own kindred on the way to hell. Can you longer let the gospel be helpless and voiceless? What would you answer the lost in the judgment were they to say to you, “You had the Bible, but you did not tell us its truths. You did not carry or send it to us, and so we perish”? What will you do to help the Bible to save the world? The time is short. The shades of the evening are falling around us. “The night cometh, when no man can work.”

TALK FIFTY-TWO. HE CARETH FOR YOU

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you” (1 Pet. 5: 7). God cares for us in the sense of having a personal interest in us. We are the work of his hands, and as such he is interested in our prosperity. He watches over the development of our lives; he notes every step of progress. The one who plants a flower, waters it, cares for it, and watches the development of each tiny shoot and bud, cares more for that flower and has a deeper interest in it than has the one who merely stops for a few minutes to admire its full-blown beauty and to enjoy its fragrance. To the one it is only one plant out of many, but to the other it has a special meaning and attraction and worth, because its bloom and fragrance are the result of his labor, care, and patience. It is his plant. So it is with God. He gave us our being; he has nourished and protected us and watched us develop day by day; he is interested in us and desires our lives to bloom and send forth a fragrance of trueness and purity all around. Let us so live that he will not be disappointed in us.

He cares for us because he created us for his glory and to fill a place in his eternal kingdom. He created us, not merely that we might have an existence, but for a purpose for himself. He wants us to make a success of our lives, not simply for our own advantage, but to fill the place for which he created us for his purpose and glory. And because of this he will use every endeavor to help us succeed in our lives.

He cares for us in the sense that he loves us. “The Father himself loveth you.” “I have loved thee with an everlasting love.” “God so loved the world.” He has a deep and abiding affection for every soul, and even when we stray away from him into the depth of sin, his heart yearns over us as a mother over her erring boy, only his love is stronger than a mother’s. He sends his servants out to seek the lost, and his Spirit to plead with them. Sinner, he loves you. Though you have grieved him and have repelled his Spirit over and over again, yet his eye beams with pity, his heart is tender with love, and his arms are outstretched toward you to welcome you to his embrace.

If he thus cares for the rebellious and neglectful sinner, how much does he care for his own obedient, loving children! How tender his love! Sometimes in a dark and troublesome hour when his face seems hidden, we may feel as did the disciples when they cried out in their distress, “Carest thou not that we perish?” Ah, he did care. At once he arose and rebuked the elements and brought the disciples safely to the land. Yea, he _does_ care. “He careth for _you_.” His help may sometimes seem delayed, but it will come and just at the time to be most effective. In your joys and victories and seasons of refreshing he cares for you and also in the time of trial, of persecution, of heaviness and longing, and of bitterness of soul. In it all he cares, and he will bring you through when he sees the soul refined and fitted for his purpose. “He careth for you.” Believe it. Let your soul exult in it and shout it aloud. Or if you can in your sorrow only whisper it, let your heart still say: “He loves and he cares. I will trust him and be content.”

Again, he cares for us in the sense of taking care of us. His care is proved in his making so beautiful a world to be our home. The flowers, the fruits, the grains, the grasses, the animals, the sunshine, the winds, the rains, and all were made to minister to man’s need, comfort, and happiness. For us these exist. That we may be fed, he causes the earth to bring forth bountifully. That we may be clothed, he makes the cotton and the flax to grow out of the soil, the wool upon the sheep, and causes the silkworm to spin its glossy house. That we might be warmed, he made the coal, the gas, and the forests. That we might be protected, he made the stone, the wood, the iron, and the clay that we might have houses.

He cares also for our bodies, that we may have health. He gives us pure crystal water to quench our thirst and cool us in fever, balmy oxygen-laden air to build us up, and countless other blessings. Above all this, he is himself to us a Great Physician whose word heals our suffering bodies and takes us out of the grasp of death.

He cares for us spiritually, giving us his grace to help in every time of need—to shield in temptation, to strengthen in trial, to make strong in adversity, courageous in danger, and valiant in conflict.

Truly, he cares for us. Let us doubt and fear no more, but commit ourselves to him, knowing that he will “in no wise fail” us.

TALK FIFTY-THREE. THREE TESTS OF LOVE

“Wherefore show ye to them, and before the churches, the proof of your love” (2 Cor. 8: 24). Love is capable of demonstration. Where it really exists, it will manifest itself. It need not be made known by mere assertion. We are told to love not in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth. In these days there are many who, like some of old, show much love with their mouths while their hearts are far from God. The test of our love is not how much we talk about it, but how much we manifest it in our lives. There are three tests of love, which never fail to show exactly just how much we love. Let us consider them in order.

I. How Much We Serve.

We are told that Jacob loved Rachel so much that he served seven years for her, and that those years seemed to him as only a few days. The amount of our love to God is proved by our willingness to serve him. If there is in us a disposition to do only what we please to do, and if we can, to disregard any of the known will of God, it is a clear evidence that we do not love him. It matters not what we profess, if we are not willing to put obedience to God’s will before everything else, it is from lack of love.

Love makes people willing-hearted. There are many things to do; there are many ways to serve; and love prompts us to serve wherever possible. If the work of God stands first in our love, our hands will always be ready for service. I have attended many camp-meetings, where I have noticed those on whom the labor of the meeting fell. Everybody was willing to sit in the meeting and enjoy the good sermons and take all the blessings they could get; but when it came to the labor and responsibility connected with the meeting, willingness suddenly disappeared, and a greater part of the burden fell upon the ministers and a few consecrated brethren and sisters who loved God and the people enough to go to work. I have often had occasion to call for volunteers for service, and have often found that many people who can say “Amen” and “Praise the Lord,” and perhaps shout in meeting, become suddenly silent when it comes to volunteering for work. The test of their love proves that love is wanting.

In a certain camp-meeting there was a young man who professed to be saved, and was saved, so far as I know. I noticed, however, that when others were busy at work in some necessary service, he was always standing back a mere onlooker. One day about the middle of the meeting this young man came to the altar, and when asked what was the trouble he said that he had backslidden. Being asked what he had done, he said that he did not know. I said to him: “I think I know your trouble. Whenever there has been a meeting, you have been ready to go and enjoy all you could of it; whenever a meal is ready, you are always ready for it; but when there is any work to be done, you are never ready. Now,” I continued, “when there is need of water at the boarding-house, you take a bucket and go for it; when there is wood needed, get an ax and use it, or when there is anything to do in which you can help, be ready for it and do your part.” He took my advice, and from that time on he seemed to be a different man. The reason many people get so few blessings is because they do not love enough to serve.

There are duties for all. There are opportunities everywhere. Every one of them is a test of love. Brother, sister, how does your love stand the test? Love will not grumble; it will not complain; it will not shrink from service. Do you love as fervently as you ought?

II. How Much We Sacrifice.

The mother who loves her child thinks no sacrifice too great for it. Even her life will she give for it, if need be. The man who loves his country will, if the need should arise, count no sacrifice too great. He who loves God as truly as the mother loves her child or the patriot loves his country is willing to sacrifice for God. Abraham proved his love by not withholding his son. He offered him freely in obedience to God’s command. Paul loved, and as a result he counted not his life dear to himself so that he might do the work of God. Christ so loved the world that he sacrificed everything for our salvation.

We say that we love this glorious gospel; we say we desire to see it spread to the ends of the earth; but how much do we love it compared with our love of self? Do we love it more than self, or equal with self, or far less than self? Many persons spend willingly and even lavishly for self who give sparingly and reluctantly to God. They spend more for their pleasures than they give. Some spend more for candy than they give to missions. Some spend more for gasoline for pleasure-riding than they give to all causes. In fact, some spend so much on their own selfish desires that when a need of God’s work is presented they can truly say, “I can not give much.” They might feel disposed to give if they had anything to give, but are they willing to deny themselves of some self-gratification in order to have something to give? There is the test of love that proves its real direction—whether it runs out selfward or Godward. If we love God and souls as much as we love self, we can spend money for them just as willingly and with as little reluctance or regret to see it go as if it were being spent for ourselves. If we can not spend for God and his work more willingly than for self, it is because we do not love him more than self. If we do not get more pleasure out of giving than we do out of consuming, we may well question both the amount and quality of our love and its direction. Often the work of God must go on crutches because of lack of means while professors live in luxury.

There is no way to avoid the issue. There is plenty of money so that all the work of the church could be properly financed and no undue burden rest upon any. The fact is, there are too many whose love is wanting in that quality which draws out their hearts into the work of God until they are willing to sacrifice for it. It is true that there are many who do love and who prove it by their sacrifices. But it is just as true that there are many others who do not deny themselves and will not even from a sense of duty, to say nothing of making willing sacrifices through the prompting of love.

It is time that we heard more of the practical side of love preached from the pulpit and that people who profess salvation and at the same time manifest an indifference toward the salvation of souls and the work of the church in general should not be left to drift along in coldness and be lost at last. A sacrificing person or a sacrificing church will be spiritual if the sacrifice is prompted by love. People who are willing to serve and sacrifice rarely backslide.

III. How Much We Endure.

Christ proved his love by enduring the scoffs and ill-treatment of the people and the shame and suffering of the cross. By this he proved his love to be real. If our love is genuine, as was that of the saints of old, we can rejoice that we are counted worthy to suffer for His name. Paul endured all things for the elect’s sake, that they might be saved. If we can not endure the little persecutions, the unkind words, the sneering smiles, the scoffs and jeers, of the unbelieving world, is it not because our love lacks fervency? The early church took joyfully the spoiling of their goods because they loved their Lord far more than they loved their goods. God’s ministers in all ages have endured hardships and perils and have suffered in a thousand ways without faltering, because they loved souls as God loves them.

Sometimes people quote the text, “We know that we have passed from death unto life because we love the brethren”; but if these same brethren do something that does not please them, they are offended and grieved and are full of complaint and murmuring, and it is hard for them to be reconciled to their brethren. Is the love of such people genuine? Does it really prove that they have passed from death unto life? Many think that the preacher ought to be willing to endure almost anything for the cause (and so he should), but they do not consider that the same love in them will give them the same spirit of endurance and willingness to suffer as it gives to the minister. Love that can not endure hardness, misrepresentation, neglect, and such things, and still be sweet and strong, needs to be increased.

Love makes service sweet, sacrifice easy, and meek endurance possible. Love enriches, ennobles, and blesses. It sweetens the bitter cup: it lightens the heavy load. It strengthens the faltering soul. Let us, therefore, see that we have fervent love toward God, toward each other, and toward the lost world.

TALK FIFTY-FOUR. TWO WAYS OF RISING

The human passions are like water: left unconfined, their tendency is always downward. You can carry water upward or force it upward with a pump, but in order to do so you must confine it in a vessel or a pipe. The moment it gains its liberty by breaking through the barrier, it rushes downward. So the human passions and propensities must be kept confined by the will. When they are not, they carry the whole man downward. By the power of our wills we may raise ourselves to higher altitudes, to greater heights of morality; but the moment the will weakens so that passion breaks through, the course is immediately downward. Water is raised to heights by great labor; so we reach morality only by the greatest efforts, and maintain it only by careful watchfulness and stedfast purpose.

But the sun, with its warming rays, smiles down upon the water, and the water rises in unseen vapor and floats into the atmosphere. There is no struggle and terrible compulsion and repression, but only silence, calmness, and peace. When it rises from the muddy pool, the stagnant pond, or the filthy gutter, it rises pure and clean, leaving behind the mud, the slime, the offensive odors, the noxious germs and bacteria. So when the sunshine of God’s love shines upon and warms our hearts, it lifts us up from all the slime and filth of sinful habits, clean and pure, into heavenly places in Christ Jesus.

So long as the water is kept warm, it floats onward; but when it cools, it condenses and falls back again, perhaps into the same slimy pool. Likewise, so long as our hearts are kept warm by the rays of God’s love shining therein, our pure moral state is easily maintained; but when we lose the warmth of that love, lower things begin to attract us and soon we fall down toward the former level. Keep your heart ever turned toward the Sun of Righteousness, cherish its soul-warming rays of love, and you will float on the atmosphere of heaven far above the things of sin.

TALK FIFTY-FIVE. GETTING EVEN

“I’ll get even with that fellow if it takes ten years.” Thus declared a man about another who had wronged him, as his eyes flashed with passion and his teeth set firmly with resolve. In his heart he determined to do his enemy as great an injury as his enemy had done him. “Get even,” I thought; “what does it mean to get even?” Then appeared before my mind’s eye a view of the various classes of humanity, each person in the scale of morality where his life had placed him. I saw the Christian on God’s plane of holiness and truth. Far below him stood the moral though unchristian man, and down, down, step by step, my mental eye beheld man to the lowest depth of moral degradation.

Vile and wrong deeds always degrade man to a lower state. Every evil deed, word, or thought lowers us in moral being. If some one has done evil toward us, he has lowered himself by that act; and for us to decide to “get even” by a similar act toward him is for us to decide that we will lower ourselves to his level. To “get even” means to get on the same level. It means to abase and degrade ourselves. If we “get even,” we are as bad as he, and worthy that others look upon us with the same feelings with which we regard him. If you want to get even with any one, do not choose some one below you, but some one above you in moral attainments, and labor to attain to his height, instead of the other’s depths. This will ennoble you, make you better, and be worthy of a reasoning being.

The principle of revenge has no part in Christianity. God refuses to let us avenge ourselves, no difference what the provocation nor how good the opportunity for vengeance. He says, “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12: 19-21). “Recompense to no man evil for evil” (verse 17). “See that none render evil for evil unto any man; but ever follow that which is good, both among yourselves, and to all men” (1 Thess. 5: 15). When one who is a Christian so far forgets what is right that he stoops to take vengeance, he is then upon the level of the sinner who did him evil, and is himself a sinner, and is fallen from his high position to the level of sin. God forbids us to threaten to “get even” with anyone. “Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done to me: I will render to the man according to his work” (Prov. 24: 29).

The spirit of Christianity is to render good for evil, blessing for cursing, love for hatred. The blood of Christ will wash away the “get even” disposition from us; and until we are thus cleansed, let us not presume to call ourselves by that holy name of Him who “when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously.” Good is stronger than evil. Evil used against evil, begets more evil; but we may “overcome evil with good.”

I once asked a man why he did not become a Christian. He replied that there were so many in his business who were trying to get the financial advantage of him that he could not do right, but must do the same with them or he could not “keep even.”

But let us see what it really means to be “even.” If a man lies about me, and to get even I lie about him, then we are even. He is a liar and I am a liar—both on the same plane. He is going to the judgment to give account for his lie and so am I for mine—even again. If he does not repent, he will go to hell for lying; and if I do not repent, I shall go, too. Yes, we may get even, but I would rather not be so. If a man beats me out of ten dollars, to get even I must watch my chance to do likewise to him. If I do not try to beat him to get even, he may have more money in his pocket than I; but if I turn the matter over for settlement to Him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay,” when the final account is rendered, I shall be ten dollars or more ahead.

Let us not endeavor to be “even” with our enemies by taking vengeance, but let us do right and win them to the gospel by overcoming evil with good. Let us get even by raising others up instead of lowering ourselves to their sinful level. Be a blessing to all. Set a right example.

TALK FIFTY-SIX. DO YOU KNOW YOURSELF?

Everyone desires success, but not every one succeeds. In any line there are certain things on which success depends. Success can be built only on a properly and carefully laid foundation. Those who desire to be Christians desire to be successful in the Christian life. Those who are called to work for God desire to be successful workers. Jesus said to Martha, “One thing is needful.” There is generally one basic principle on which all else must be built. If this is overlooked or neglected, partial or complete failure is certain. Many attempts are failures because of being begun at the wrong place. In mathematics we must master the rudiments before we can compute the orbits of the planets. In music we must learn tones and relations of tones before we can produce the exquisite harmonies of the master. In astronomy we must know something of our little home-planet before we can launch out into the heart-stirring immensities of space. Before we can rightly know God we must know ourselves.

The animal instinctively knows that the gnawing pain in its stomach is a hunger for food, and immediately seeks to satisfy it. But the man who does not know himself, who does not stop to consider and analyze, feels an unrest, a yearning, a hungering within his soul, and knows not why or what it is. He tries worldly pleasures; but they only partially satisfy, and at last render the case more serious than before. He tries all the remedies that he can find for his soul-hunger, but performs no cure, simply because he has not properly diagnosed his case. It is only when he knows that the cause of his unrest is soul-hunger for God and the bread of life, that he begins to try to satisfy himself properly. Women, and many of them professors, try to satisfy this craving by decking themselves with gold and gems and fine array, with the plumage of birds and the skins of beasts. Men try to satisfy it in the pool-room, by plunging into the muddy waters of the political sea, or by accumulating money and by the follies of life. As food is the only thing that properly satisfies the hunger of the body, so God is the only thing that satisfies the hunger of the soul. When people come to know that this hunger is for God, they begin to search for him if haply they may find him. The trouble is that people look at Christianity in the abstract, as a something apart from themselves, whereas it is a vital part of every spiritually normal man or woman. The saying of the old philosopher, “Know thyself,” proves his wisdom. True wisdom comes only by first understanding ourselves so as to know our relation to other things.

One of the things that must constantly be preached to the sisters is proper modesty and plainness of apparel. How often do we meet with those who once were plain who now dress almost as the world! Why is it that these thing’s are put on? Because there is a longing in the heart. They do not understand what this longing really is nor what will satisfy it. They interpret the unrest of soul as being a desire for these things, yet when put on they do not satisfy.

No, sister, it is not the flowers on your hat nor the feathers nor fine dresses, that you are really desiring. You may think it is, but only because you can not rightly interpret your soul-cry. No, brother, it is not that fine team nor that other eighty acres that your soul really desires. Both your souls are crying for more of God. Give them a chance to get what they are hungering for, and you will be surprized to find out that you did not really want these other things after all. If you find in you a desire, or what seems to be a desire, for anything not in accord with spiritual prosperity, there is a real desire in your soul which you do not realize. Sister, if you pass the millinery-store and see a display of worldly hats and something seems to say, “Just to be honest, I should like to have one of those,” your soul is hungry. Go home and feed it. Go to your closet, fall upon your knees, and get a good feast of the “bread from heaven” and “water of life,” and then go back and look in that window again and see if there is any hunger. There is not a bit, is there? Do you not see you were mistaken? Your soul wanted more of God, and you did not know yourself any better than to think it was a fine hat you desired.

Or you, brother, if you feel as if you wanted people to notice you more and say nice things about you and tell how talented you are, you are hungry. Go and give your soul a feast of heavenly manna—not just a taste; eat plenty, feast on it. Now come back in the crowd, and when that man goes to praising you, it makes you feel ashamed. You did not really know what you did want, did you?

And you who desire to be a big preacher and stir the world and be like a mighty man of war among the people. You are getting real hungry. It will take a lot to fill you up, but God has plenty, and you had better get to the table quickly. When you get full, though, you will find you do not really want to be a big preacher at all, have not the least desire to be. Why, you will feel so small, just as if you wanted to hide behind the cross where nobody would see you at all.

After we have a good, square meal on divine food, any sort of worldliness will “go against our stomachs,” and we can not bear it, sight or smell.

And you there, you want to have your own way in everything, do you not? Your judgment is so good that all the brethren must accept it and act upon it or all the sweetness in your soul turns to vinegar right away. Go and eat some of the “honey out of the rock.” Do not come back until you get enough. When you get filled up once, you will wake up in the night and catch yourself saying, “Not my will, but thine be done.”

God is what you want. Everything else is husks. You can eat husks all you please and not get satisfied. You may get a bad case of spiritual dyspepsia or die altogether. Better find out what you really do want, and then “eat in plenty and be satisfied.” Do not try fine dresses and rings and flowers and feathers and houses and lands and honors for soul-diet. “Eat ye that which is good.” Get acquainted with yourself enough to know that all the real desire of your heart is for godliness, and that these longings for other things are only symptoms of your need of _more God_ and that they will disappear at once when the soul is filled with the “bread of life.”

TALK FIFTY-SEVEN. BALKERS

No man likes a balky horse. It is a nuisance. It may be fine in appearance, strong, and able to do a great amount of work, and it may pull along very well on good roads; but when a mud-hole is encountered, it is likely to stop, and absolutely refuse to budge, regardless of the efforts of the driver, just when it should get down to business.

Some people are as balky as some horses. When everything goes to please them, they are “good Christians” and often seem very zealous; but as soon as something does not go just to suit them, they draw back in the harness and refuse to pull a pound. What is the matter? They are balkers. Others do well when public sentiment is in favor of the truth; but as soon as it becomes a reproach to walk in the straight way, they can not bear the little persecution that comes, and immediately they become balkers.

I have seen others who made much noise in meeting and talked a great deal outside about their religion and their doings, but who, when it came time for them to make some sacrifice for the cause or to do some work that required consecration on their part, were ready to balk at once and throw the responsibility on others who were not balky. There are others who will work hard and sacrifice for the cause if they can direct operations; but as soon as they can not lead in the work, or if some one questions the wisdom of something they do, they are ready to throw up everything and quit and have no more to do with it, no matter how much good they might do if they were content to fill any place in which they could be useful. They are balkers. They will work only when they can have the honor of leadership. Like some balky horses, they will work only so long as they can have everything their own way.

There are many ways in which people balk. There are the ones who are always giving up their profession at every little thing; they are chronic balkers. God can never depend on them. Just when he wants something done that they might do if they were in condition for work, they have a balky spell and are of no use. Then there are the ones who can not go to meeting because the sun is too hot or because it looks a little like rain. Others balk if the wind blows a little or if they do not feel just as good as they have felt at other times. Some go along with a profession till new light comes to them, but are unwilling to walk in it. They stop attending meeting or quit professing or try to go on with a profession and not measure up. In any of these cases they are balkers.