Jesus gave all of Himself for us. We cannot give less than all of ourselves for Him.

Read Mark 15:16-47.



XXI

READY!

Say, fellows, once in my life—and only once—I had a chance to shoot a deer. It was in the Tennessee mountains. A party of us boys travelled over a rough mountain road all of two days before reaching the hunting grounds. About daylight of the third day each one of us was given a "stand," that is, stationed at a point where the game would likely pass when started by the hounds. The seasoned old guide cautioned us to keep still and watch. "One thing sartin," said he, "deer is in thar, an' when they comes out they comes this a-way."

I had never been deer hunting before. I have never been since. It was my one opportunity, and as the party left me, to distribute themselves at other points of vantage along the "run," I took up my stand under considerable excitement. In an hour I heard the dogs far in the distance. They were evidently running. That meant the game was running, too,—how many and in what direction I could only guess.

Every nerve and muscle was tense with expectation. The music of the hounds grew fainter. "Evidently circling again," I mused. I was getting to be quite a huntsman, and chuckled at how David Crocketty my observations were.

Another hour I waited. A squirrel came out on a limb, and with its antics and barking helped me pass the time. A while I watched it, now and then dropping my eyes to a level for the expected deer. Suddenly, as I dropped my eyes, the most thrilling sight confronted them. They nearly popped out—my eyes. There, within fifty feet of me, stood a magnificent buck.

I shall never forget the picture. His beautiful, keen limbs slightly quivering, his sleek sides glistening in the slanting rays of the sun as they throbbed in and out with his rapid panting. His head held high, the antlers looked like a picture.

All this had happened in less than five seconds. I only had to veer my gun two inches. My hand was on the trigger, and with a perfect "bead" on his left shoulder—right where the old guide had said the night before was the spot to aim for.

Snap! left barrel.

Snap! right barrel.

Off like the wind, Mr. Buck!

Fellows, I have never been sicker than I was at that moment, but once. My sickest was in the next moment, when I unbreached my gun and found there was no shell in either barrel!

Foolish?

You can call it any name you please and I won't defend it. Think of me at the camp-fire that night, fellows.

Foolish? Yes, I suppose that is the right word. It is a much stronger word, though, than we realize. Jesus used it in this parable of the ten virgins who went out to meet the bridegroom. But He used it to describe a real tragedy, the greatest tragedy of life; the tragedy of being unprepared at His coming.

And when is He coming, fellows? Nobody knows. He has not even told the angels that secret. We don't have to know it. We only have to be ready.

And how to be ready? Simple as A B C, fellows. Just be busy, doing God's will—or making an honest effort to do it, and asking Him to help. Anybody can be ready to meet Him when He comes, if he wants to and will try. Just be doing your work and playing your play, as He would have you do it.

But, fellows, it is a big risk to "put off" getting ready. Do it now while you are young, with all life before you, by saying: "Lord Jesus, here is my life. Use it in just whatever way you choose. Plan it for me and help me carry out the plan." That is the way to bag the Big Game. Some of life's greatest opportunities come but once, and then by surprise. The happiest and most successful life is the God-planned life, and a God-planned life never misses the Big Opportunity, because it is ready—always ready. Ready for life, however long or short it may be; ready for death whenever that must be; ready for the Coming of the Lord Himself, which may be any moment, in the twinkling of an eye.

Are you ready, fellows?

Read Matthew 25:1-13.



XXII

REMEMBERING

Say, fellows, all through the United States some years ago there sounded a slogan. It was a slogan of hate,—a slogan of revenge. It was the rallying cry of the Navy, it was shouted by the Army. Newspapers carried it daily on the front page, alongside their titles; business houses had it printed on their stationery; it was engraved upon souvenirs; it hung as a motto upon the walls at many public gatherings, and it became a household word throughout the nation: "Remember the Maine!"

Remember—remember—never forget. And the purpose in remembering was Retaliation. One night while the United States battleship Maine lay peacefully at anchor in the harbour of Havana, an explosion tore a great hole in her hull and she quickly sank, carrying down many officers and men to sudden death.

There was hardly any doubt that Spanish officers had from the shore treacherously exploded a mine underneath the battleship, and later investigations seemed to confirm this theory. Immediately the United States, an outraged nation, arose to drive the Spanish army from Cuba and her navy from American waters, and the spirit of revenge was kept alive by the slogan, "Remember the Maine!"

Now, fellows, those are just the cold facts to show how powerfully can be used the word, Remember—how powerfully to kill and to destroy; how powerfully to nourish the harsh and cruel side of our natures. Not that it was wrong for America to lift the Spanish yoke from helpless Cuba, we are not dealing with that question. That with which we have to do to-day is the energy and force developed by remembering. Like dynamite, it can be force for good or for evil. Remembering the taunts and cruelties of our enemies usually carries us into a cruel and destructive program.

I am so glad this lesson presents to us the good side of that really great word Remember, for to-day it is Remember Jesus. When you link that Name with a word it transforms it; link that Name with a life and it transforms it. Jesus Himself gave us the slogan. He was so intent upon our keeping it in mind that He instituted a feast by which we might commemorate it.

Even the food of that supper had a significance: Bread, to represent His own body nailed upon the cross for us, and wine to represent His blood which flowed for us. I think, fellows, if you should give your life to save another, you would not like that one to forget all about it, would you?

But Jesus had more than that in mind. He knew that "remembering" would mean much to you who are trying to live a straight-out Christian life. Celebrating at stated times by this Remembrance Supper would help you to remember Him also between times. It is in these between times we so much need the power which comes by Remembering Jesus.

Am I downhearted because I have been mistreated? Remember Jesus. He was most mistreated of all men. Am I feeling that I'd like to "get even" with somebody and redress a wrong? Remember Jesus. He did not strike back, but laid down His life for His enemies. Am I feeling that I cannot hold out in this Christian program? Remember Jesus. He is right by my side and will help me hold out. Do people seem to misunderstand me? Remember Jesus. He understands, and that is sufficient. Does it look as if I am about to make a failure? Remember Jesus, through whom we are more than conquerors.

I tell you, fellows, it is the biggest and finest Remember of all, because it makes us strong, it makes us happy, it enables us to overcome, it makes us invincible!

Remember Jesus.

Read 1 Corinthians 11:23-34.



XXIII

GETTING EVEN

Say, fellows! I saw a big touring car sideswipe a Ford runabout and knock it several feet to one side on the country road. Of course each of the drivers thought the other was to blame, and a warm argument followed.

The big car was unhurt, and proceeded on its way, but the flivver had its running board and fender badly battered. While the young fellow of the runabout examined to see what further damage his car might have sustained, the prosperous-looking gentleman was speeding up the highway, chuckling over his own car's escape from injury.

I asked the man of the Ford if his engine had suffered. No, he thought it was all right; he would crank up and see. Good! She started off with a clutter, and he asked me if I wanted to ride. I had not far to go, but gladly accepted, for I was rather struck with this young fellow's grip on himself. It took self-control to avoid making the air blue with abuse. The way that big fellow had hurried on, leaving the runabout in trouble, was certainly not on the square, to say the least.

A turn in the road brought a fresh surprise. There was the touring car, a hundred yards ahead, standing in the middle of the road, hood up, and the big man peering into the engine. There was room to pass, and I wondered what the man at the wheel in the runabout would do. Would the little car rattle past with its damaged fender? It would be only human nature to sing out some sort of a taunt: "Thought you were in a hurry!" or "Don't block the road!"—and yet this young fellow did not seem to be that kind. His self-control during the incident back there in the road made me expect something different, and I was not disappointed. The runabout did pass, but stopped ten yards ahead, and my companion got out.

"Engine trouble? Need any help?"

The big fellow's face was a puzzle, as he looked up with a worried grin and mopped his brow with a grease-smeared hand. Yes, there was engine trouble, and it was serious.

To make a long story short, when last I saw them as they turned the curve of the road ahead, the big car's front axle was connected by a chain to the rear of the runabout as it chugged away in low gear dragging the big one to the nearest garage.

Say, fellows! it takes a dead game sport to do a trick like that. Any cheap skate can whiz past and give his enemy in trouble the hard-boiled eye, but it takes a fine soul to be generous when the natural impulse calls for spite work.

In the small hours of that fine morning, as Saul slept and as his guards were heavy with sleep about him, David put one over on his pursuer—an act of kindness which overwhelmed him with shame. David had not only to fight a natural impulse to get even, but he had with him an adviser who used the most persuasive arguments to induce him to take Saul's life. Indeed, Abishai proposed to do the deed himself, as though that would leave David clear of guilt in the matter. But no, David was a man of principle, and he knew three very vital things:

1. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," said the Lord.

2. A magnanimous spirit wins, and no sad regrets cloud the victory.

3. He that ruleth his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city.

Read twenty-sixth chapter of 1 Samuel and Romans 12:20-21.



XXIV

GREATNESS

Say, fellows, if I should make up an unusually good story about you, some noble thing you did, or some kind and generous act, to whom should I tell it, to be sure it would be believed? Yes, I see you know of whom I am thinking—your mother. I might tell your brother and sister, and they would say: "Phew! are you sure it was Dick?" I might tell your employer, and his eyes would roam around over the objects on his desk; or your teacher, and he would look at the sky and say: "Think it will rain?" I might tell your father, and he would be grateful—but surprised! But let me tell your mother! There I would find one who is ready to believe anything good I would say about you.

I tell you, fellows, a mother is a wonderful gift to a boy, for her prayers alone. Long before you learned to say, "Now I lay me down to sleep," she was praying that you would be a great and good man some day. Those prayers of mothers have kept many a boy from going wrong. One night in a great city where I had gone to find work I had fallen in with some young fellows who "knew the ropes," and being far from home and lonesome I was glad to accept their companionship. They invited me to join them in an "evening lark" to which no loyal Christian would lend himself, and though I was a nominal Christian I was tempted sorely. I regarded myself as "my own man," having just turned twenty-one.

But just as I wavered between right and wrong, my mother's face flashed before me. It was only for an instant, but it was enough. I heard her voice, heard it in prayer. That night a thousand miles away she was praying for me, and saved me from what might have been a fatal step. I firmly believe, fellows, but for my mother's prayers that night and many nights, before and since, I should not now be enjoying the privilege of talking about the great things of life and the Kingdom to you.

Treasure that dear mother, if you have one, fellows; she is God's peculiar gift.

Well, James and John had such a mother, and she did the most natural and motherly kind of a thing. She wanted her boys to go away up high; they must even stand in the highest places, on the right and left hand of the King in His glory. Like all mothers, she was ambitious for her boys.

Then Jesus in His wonderful way explained that the road to true greatness was not that which the world was following, in which those in power and authority were overbearing masters to their inferiors; but it is a path of service to mankind, a path already blazed by Himself. Last night in the local evening paper I saw these headlines: CHATTANOOGA DOCTOR ATTAINS EMINENCE. The article stated that a very remarkable invention for the removal of foreign particles from the lungs or bronchial tubes, such as might be accidentally swallowed, had been successfully demonstrated before a national medical society, and had been written up in the American Medical Journal; it was said that the discovery had brought great honour to the doctor in the world of medicine.

That was the recognition, but what had preceded? Days and nights at bedsides of suffering; days and nights in the laboratory; days and nights of study to relieve pain; hours of weariness unknown to the world, but borne on by the thought of doing a service to humanity. And do you suppose the final publicity is what rewards this doctor? Hardly. A reporter on his local city paper sought an interview, after the far-away medical journal had published the first news, but the doctor, in his service overalls in the midst of treating his patients, declined the interview, saying it would involve a technical description which the general public would hardly be interested in. Then it was "Good-morning," and the doctor returned to his work.

True greatness does not care to make one dash to fame, then loaf in its glory.

The thing our great Commander wants us to be earnest about is doing our best, wherever the place of service. He will look after the reward. He is even more ambitious for us than our mothers are.

Read Matthew 20:20-28.



XXV

"PAW, I WANTA BE SOMEBODY!"

Say, fellows, away back in the mountains of western North Carolina, far up on the mountainside, at the head of a cove, there lived a fifteen-year-old boy. He had sisters and brothers and parents, but they dwelt in a little tumble-down shack and were wretchedly poor. Jake was the oldest of the children, and he had to work hard in the little patch of corn on the steep mountainside, which barely yielded a crop.

Down the path a mile or so there was a little log schoolhouse where a lady teacher gave some of the mountain children lessons in "readin', ritin', and 'rithmetic." Jake had passed and repassed that schoolhouse many times and wished that he might "go thar and larn," but Jake was too important a hand on "the farm" to "waste enny time at sich"—so thought his parents, neither of whom could read or write. "An' Jake was pow'ful handy 'bout fixin' things, like tools en sich."

One day, when "the crop" was pretty well "laid by," Jake came to the shack and, throwing his hoe into the corner, said: "Paw, I wanta be Somebody!" Then Jake went on to say he had been thinking that now the corn was in shape to go ahead and make what it would, he "might put in some time ev'y day at the schoolhouse a-larnin' how to read and write."

"But y'ain't got nothin' to buy books," was suggested.

"I'll see 'bout that 'ar," said Jake.

Next morning when the teacher arrived, Jake was waiting at the schoolhouse door.

"Teacher," said he, "I ain't got no money to buy books, but I kin git up the wood ev'y day for the stove, 'n I kin sweep out the schoolhouse 'n keep it clean—cain't ye loan me a book 'n let me come 'n larn?"

Jake's terms were accepted. No boy was ever prouder of a university scholarship than Jake was of that chance to "larn" in the little mountain schoolhouse. Jake went after "larnin'" as a boy goes for pie at the picnic dinner.

A few months later, the school was visited by the superintendent of one of the large North Carolina mountain mission schools. When the teacher told him about Jake, he offered him an opportunity to enter the mission school and succeeded in persuading his parents to let him go. Jake was put to work taking care of the farm machinery in the agricultural department of the mission, but with ample time to pursue his studies in the schoolroom.

It was noticed that he had special aptitude for fixing the farm implements and adjusting the parts—even making some of the missing parts at the old blacksmith forge. The superintendent was so impressed with this that as soon as Jake's education had made pretty fair progress, he secured him a position in the dynamo room of a large manufacturing plant in a near-by town. Jake had accepted Jesus Christ as his Saviour and Master while at the mission school, owned his Bible, read it faithfully every day, and was a consistent young Christian.

It was a triumph for Jake, when he got a discarded dynamo out of its corner and saved the purchase of a new machine. His employers soon saw that he was entitled to even a better chance than they could give him, and after they had some correspondence with a great electrical manufacturing firm in New England, Jake one day bade farewell to his "Tarheel" friends and took a north-bound train.

At the great electrical plant, his career was continuously upward.

It takes five figures to name his salary. Every Sunday morning you will see Jake and his family get into their big car and motor into the city, where Jake teaches a large and enthusiastic class of young men.

The mountain boy has realized his wish: he is Somebody!

No fellow can do a finer thing than make his life count as a force in Christianizing the nation—to make it stand out a shining light, pointing the world to Christ. And one effective way to do that is to apply himself, with a Christ-loving heart, to the opportunity that comes to his hands to build himself up in a Christian way and in a business way. For good business and Christian integrity are twin screw propellers.

The fellow that gets the good job, the fellow that suddenly finds himself in a position of power and privileged service to his world about him is the fellow who is found faithful to the smaller work or the smaller opportunity that lies next to his hand.

Oh, fellows, it is the only life!

Read Matthew 25:14-30.



XXVI

"LET DOWN YOUR FEET!"

Say, fellows, something happened two summers ago at a well-known resort in the mountains, which even at this late day it quickens my pulse to recall. I was one of the very few eyewitnesses of the "tragedy," and it nearly put me to bed with nervous prostration. It was about twilight one evening when I passed near the lake on my way to our cottage for supper.

The gay throng of swimmers had apparently all dispersed to the hotels and cottages for the evening meal and preparation for the concert in the auditorium. That lake was a very popular place in the afternoon; there were accommodations for all grades of swimmers—from the expert divers who used the platform, spring-board, and tall diving ladder on the deep side, to the smallest children, who paddled and waded in the shallow water under the watchful care of their nurses on the other side. The lake was not over a hundred yards wide at the widest.

I was just noting how deserted and quiet was the place which only a few moments before had been fairly alive with a happy throng of sport lovers, little and big, when I saw coming toward the platform from the bath house a tall, thin man in his bathing suit. He looked so pale and weak and thin that I wondered if he could possibly be thinking of going into that cold water at that time of evening and alone!

I had not long to be in doubt about it, for straight out on the platform he went and then on the spring-board! He lifted his arms above his head and pointed his hands together as a man going to dive. The man looked so weak and thin that I felt positive he would not be able to swim in that water, so chilled by the mountain springs that fed it. I wondered if he knew how cold it was and how weak he was.

Should I run the risk of "butting in," and warn him? Suppose I did not and he should begin to sink, could I jump in that fifteen-foot water with my clothes on and save him? These thoughts flashed rapidly through my mind, but in the twinkling of an eye he was off the spring-board, head downward into the water.

I held my breath and waited for him to rise. It seemed he had gone to the bottom and stuck there; the water became actually smooth again, and almost still, where he had disappeared. I thought he would never come up. My heart jumped into my throat.

Then he came up—very near where he had gone down—and faintly struck out swimming. I thought of course he would at once make for the piers of the platform; surely a fellow swimming as weakly as that, all alone, and in water cold and deep, would not risk himself far from shore. But, to my amazement, he was apparently starting for the other side!

It was then I discovered I was not the only witness. On the other side of the lake, down close to the water's edge, and watching with evident anxiety, was a lady. It was easy to see by her movements that she had a strong personal interest in the swimmer's actions, and that she was very anxiously watching him. She had evidently come down to keep him company, or as a precaution, while he took his solitary evening swim.

These things, which were taken in at a glance, coupled with the fact that the swimmer was plainly growing weaker and making very poor progress, confirmed all my apprehensions, and I was just thinking I must quickly take measures for his relief when I saw coming out of the bath house on a dead run, two husky young fellows in bathing suits, making for the spring-board.

At the same time the lady shouted: "Father! Father! can you make it?"

The swimmer gurgled something which sounded like, "No."

He had gotten about half-way across and was merely struggling to keep his head above water. The two huskies went off the spring-board so close one behind the other that it looked foolhardy, and struck out rapidly for the drowning man, but he had gone down his second time already.

It was a race between life and death. I said: "They will never reach him in time." The lady screamed. Then a new voice broke upon the still evening air. A boy over on the walkway by the dam shouted at the top of his lungs: "Mister! Let down your feet!" The struggling man heard it; he did let down his feet, rose up about waist deep in the water and walked out!

Fellows, as I walked on up the hill toward supper, trying to work my heart back down where it belonged, I did some tall thinking. Had I ever "drowned" in shallow water? Sure, I had. The great big things God has planned for you and me to do seem impossible because we do not take into account that they are to be done through God's power and not our own.

We summon the nerve to tackle the task, but, forgetting Him, like Peter trying to walk on the water, we sink. We foolishly try to do the thing in our own strength, when there at our hand is the great power of Almighty God just waiting to flow through us and accomplish it gloriously.

Oh, fellows, if you would just let down your feet on the mighty power of God, you would walk out of all your difficulty. Here is a great overpowering temptation getting the best of you—and you, drowning in shallow water.

Let down your feet! Here is an inspiring challenge out of God's Word, to put forth your hand and heart and mind and help win the world for Him. You are tempted to say: "Who am I?" Let down your feet, and you'll see who you are. You are a child of God, through whom He is willing to do mighty works.

And you will rise upon your feet, you poor, weak fellow, and you will hold aloft the Banner of the Cross, and you will achieve for God in a way that will set all the bells of heaven ringing.

Read Matthew 28:16-20.



XXVII

AN "UNASSISTED TRIPLE PLAY"

Say, fellows, when that "Indian," Wambganss, put three men out with one unassisted play in the world's series and retired the Brooklyn Dodgers with bases full, twenty thousand frantic Cleveland fans rose as one man and sent up a yell that sounded like the roar of Niagara. It comes but once in a generation for a lone baseball player to make an "unassisted triple play" in a world's series, and doubtless that night the Cleveland second baseman was the most envied baseball player in the world. For one man to do, alone, what thousands of onlookers could not do, was enough to turn all fandom topsy-turvy in a delirium of amazement.

There is something in you and me, fellows, that leaps to its feet and screeches with delight when we see any one rise to the demands of a crisis and do the fine thing. Now, I want you to turn to a place in the Bible where is described a finer thing than could happen in any world's series. It has always seemed to me to be about the most wonderful event that ever happened. It is John's account of one of the most wonderful miracles that Jesus performed.

More than five thousand hungry people lingered on the hillsides near the lake shore, and there was nothing for them to eat. Jesus was testing His men that day to see how far they had recognized His divine power. He turned to Philip and said: "Where shall we get food for them?" Philip did not know it was a test question; neither did he realize that Jesus could turn every blade of grass to a loaf of bread if He chose to do so. Therefore, Philip replied: "I do not know, Lord; it looks as if they will have to go home hungry."

Now Andrew was casting about to see what he might discover to help out the situation, and his eye fell upon a boy standing near by with a rather familiar shaped bundle in the folds of his tunic. Andrew sniffed, and saw the tails of two dried fish sticking through. Andrew had a long nose for fish. He knew what it was: the boy had brought a lunch with him.

"How many barley cakes have you, son?" inquired Andrew. "Five," answered the boy. "Wait a minute," said Andrew. Something had flashed into his mind. It was a big moment for Andrew; he was on the verge of doing a fine thing, himself, and he stepped quickly to where Jesus stood.

"Master!" he said, his eyes snapping with the very thought of what might happen—"Master, there's a lad here with five barley cakes and two small fishes—" and (oh, the tragedy of it!) then he must have caught Philip's hard-boiled eye. He must have thought, "Now, Philip is saying I'm a fool for suggesting such a thing—and I guess I am"; for he quickly added "—but what are they among so many?"

Jesus calmly turned His eyes on Andrew, as though He said: "Almost!—Andrew—almost did your faith win a victory; make the men sit down on the grass, and bring the lad's lunch to me."

Now, fellows, I can imagine Andrew going back to that boy and saying, "Son, the Master has need of this food you have brought; shall I take it to Him?" And this boy's first thought, naturally, was: "Then, what will I do? I'm a long way from home; I'm hungry, and I was just fixing to eat it myself—but—"

The boy had been listening to Jesus as He talked to the crowd. He had seen those wonderful eyes melting with compassion. His own eyes had feasted upon that majestic countenance, and his ears had tingled, and his boyish heart thrilled with the marvellous words which fell from the Master's lips. "Surely," he had thought, "this must be the Messiah, for no other could speak like Him, nor work these marvellous cures." So quickly he brushed aside his self-interest, and held out the little bundle of fishes and bread.

Now, fellows, watch—What?—a triple play at a world series and twenty thousand fans leaping and yelling like mad? Bless you, no. Something happened right then which will be remembered a millennium after baseball has been forgotten. Jesus took the boy's lunch and fed five thousand hungry men, besides women and children, until they could eat no more.

I have many times tried to picture in my imagination that glad and astonished boy. His eyes must have nearly popped out when he saw what was going on, the Master giving out the bread and fishes—and the bread and fishes never giving out!

And the big news to-day, fellows, is that you and I can make a play like that. No matter what it is you've got in your hand, let Jesus use it. He can do more with it than we can. No matter whether it is much or little, give it to Him. In fact, that's the way to save it and make the most of it. He said so (Luke 9:24) Himself; give it to Him. It matters not so much what it is in your hand; the thing that matters is what you do with it. Give it to Him. You may not hear the bleachers roar over your gift, but, listen, fellows, when a life is surrendered to Christ the battlements of heaven ring with a shout that encircles God's throne, and the score is for Eternity!

Fellows, let's play the REAL GAME.

Read John 6:5-14.



XXVIII

FORGIVING

Say, fellows, I want you to take a look at Simon Peter to-day. He is as interesting as a fast game of volley ball. And he did get some hot ones handed to him. Impulsive fellow that he was, he was always getting his foot into it. Peter was a plunger; he wanted to do things, and do them right now. Loyal soul—he would fight for his friend at the drop of a hat; but he was subject to fits of depression, and at such times his heart would fail him, or he would lose his grip on himself and do something to regret sorely afterward.

Now, fellows, Jesus loved Peter with a mighty love, and He spent much time helping him to gain self-control and learn to be a steady, thoroughgoing, dependable Christian. Many times Jesus had to call him down sharply. Once He even called Peter "Satan" (see Mark 8:33). It really was Satan to whom Jesus spoke—Satan operating in Peter, as he operates in you and me sometimes when we are weak enough to permit it; but it must have been an awful jolt to Peter to get that from his Master.

Peter gradually improved. He was making an honest effort to be the man he ought to be; but there one thing which gave him more trouble than anything else. He got to the point where he could close his jaws tight and keep from calling down the fellow who made him mad, but he couldn't keep from surging inside. He would surge when he went to bed, and he would be still surging when he got up—all inside. After a while he got to where he could forgive, but when the offense was repeated it was "all off," and Peter would find himself surging again. Now the second surging was just as uncomfortable and made him feel as mean as the first, so Peter began to wonder just what would be the limit, according to Jesus' idea, to which a man must forgive and then surge and feel good over it. You see, Peter was trying to train by the rules of Jesus, so it was quite the proper thing for him to ask Jesus about it when in doubt. A good sport is always ready to listen to the Coach.

Jesus was teaching the Golden Rule, the law of kindness and of good-will. He had just been showing how to make peace with one who has done you an injury, when Peter spoke up and asked the question which brought forth one of Jesus' most remarkable parables. Peter said: "Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? until seven times?"

Seven times! Think of that. It was going some, wasn't it? Doubtless Peter thought so. Perhaps he said to himself: "Well, for once I have proposed something which will show the Lord that I have learned to be a longsuffering Peter. Just imagine it: Forgave him Sunday; he repeated the offense Monday, and I forgave him again; also the same on Tuesday. He deliberately did that dirty trick again on Wednesday, and I still stood my ground on the forgiving program. Thursday and Friday the rascal repeated the offense, and I forgave, and did it again on Saturday; that was seven times, and lo! when Sunday came the ungrateful wretch was at it again, and I'm done. Seven times! It was a wonderful test of my control, and I shall present it to the Lord—"

And what did Jesus say? Why, Peter must have staggered under that answer, for it revealed to him far more than the "four hundred and ninety times" program. In the light of that parable in Matthew 18:21-35, it revealed to Peter that God had already forgiven so much that was sinful in him that he might just as well settle down to a program of forgiving his brother every day for the balance of his life, if he did not want to forfeit the forgiveness of God. No more surging for Peter.

And that is what the lesson means for you and for me to-day. A missionary once said, "We cannot outgive God." It is quite as true that we cannot out-forgive God. And, moreover, we dare not harbour unforgiveness in our hearts against any fellow-being, for when we do it we are dangerously close to the edge of a fearful precipice, where one slip would put us—with the Tormentors.

Let's all shake hands—hard!

Read Matthew 18:21-35.



XXIX

PARADOX

Say, fellows, do you know what a paradox is? It is something which seems to contradict itself. I saw a man hold in his hand something worth one hundred dollars. I would have been willing to give him one hundred dollars for it. He destroyed it right before my eyes; yet his action caused nobody any loss. Now there is a paradox, and it seems quite puzzling, doesn't it? It looks quite impossible, you may say. But the explanation is very simple. What the man held in his hand was his own check on the bank. He had made a slight scratch on it which did not affect its value, only its neatness, and he preferred to tear it to pieces and rewrite it.

Here now in the eleventh chapter of Matthew, our Lord in His impressive way is teaching in a paradox, and you may mark it well, for it indicates a specially important proposition. He says: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." It seems queer that in coming in answer to that invitation you should have a yoke to put on.

But your first wrong impression is that the Lord is sorry for folks who work. Not at all; work is a blessed privilege. Pity the poor idler, not the worker. Be sorry for him who is by any cause debarred from working, not for the red-blooded fellow who is feeling the thrill of accomplishing something. Our Lord is sorry for those who are "heavy laden" while they work—laden with worry, with anxiety, with fears and forebodings—yes, even with a guilty conscience.

Then the yoke. Who would think of a yoke in connection with rest? I suppose you fellows have seen oxen wearing yokes. They do not look very restful, do they? Yet Jesus clearly says His yoke is "easy"! Well, let's see.

For a moment, think of life as a great game. In many respects it is just that. It takes skill and wit and patience and determination to win the ordinary game; also the willingness to take a lot of punishment at times. There are three things about the game of life which are like all other games: (1) We must either win or lose; (2) there is uncertainty; and (3) we all want to win. But there are also three things true of the life game which are not true about other games.

The first of these three dissimilarities is that in the life game you have got to play whether you will or no. You can beg off from a game of tennis, or baseball, or dominoes; but the life game you have got to play, willing or unwilling, sick or well, fit or not fit. There's no choice; you've got to play—you are already playing.

Second, you must play against an adversary who is not only more skillful, more speedy, more enduring, but is invisible, and whom, humanly speaking, it is absolutely impossible to beat. Such a game! Such an adversary!

But the third dissimilarity is the most remarkable of all, and it is the shot which carries the big news to-day,—there is a rule by which you can certainly win. Can you say that about any other game? In other games, your rival can apply the rule as well as you, but in the game of life the rule is only available for you, and it is an absolutely sure winner. Turn to your Bibles and look at it, in the twenty-fourth verse of the ninth chapter of Luke: "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it."

Losing your life for Jesus—which simply means investing it for Him. Whatever you do, do that thing in His name and in a way worthy of Him. Your life, you know, is simply made up of the events of the twenty-four hours of each day. Invest each event with Jesus. That means your play as well as work. It means clean play and good hard playing to win, but in the way Christ would approve, honest, fair, chivalrous—and it is true sport, I tell you. That is a part of what it means, wearing Jesus' yoke, simply doing the thing as Jesus would do it.

Read Matthew 11:28-30.



XXX

FRAUD

Say, fellows, the greatest circus man who ever lived said the American people like to be humbugged, and proceeding on that theory, P.T. Barnum got together more animals and performers and freaks under canvas than had ever been seen before. He made a tremendous fortune. There is something in human nature which makes us an easy mark for any pretentious thing that comes down the pike with banners flying. The bigger the claim and the larger the figures, the more readily we fall for it, but simple things must be proved.

When we are told there are 290,680,493,115 stars we accept it without question, but if there is a sign saying "FRESH PAINT" we touch the paint with our fingers to see if it is really so.

Fellows, there is a big sign posted all over the country, carrying in large letters the two words, "It satisfies." It is the expensive advertising propaganda of cigarette manufacturers, and the "satisfaction" they are offering you is that brief and fleeting sensation of being doped, so that "stern realities are changed to pleasant seemings." It matters not to them that your health and morals and money and life pay the cost, just so they sell their product. They tell you cigarettes "satisfy." It is a preposterous fake. They do not satisfy—they produce further craving—and they know that that craving grows, until the habit is formed and their "satisfied" victim becomes a hopeless slave—known as a cigarette fiend. There is only one drawback for the cigarette manufacturer, his consumer is too short lived; the cigarette devitalizes, pauperizes, and destroys. Like the shock troops of the German army, they must be continually recruited—recruited in numbers which almost stagger the imagination.

Did you know, fellows, that to keep up the consumption of cigarettes at the present rate of manufacture there must be two thousand new smokers daily to contract the habit? Nearly all these new smokers must be boys, for men are not fooled into this practice so easily.

In a village I recently saw a large bill-board sign at the top of which in bold letters were the words, WANTED: ONE MILLION RECRUITS! Upon reading farther, I found it was the advertisement of a certain brand of cigarettes, and the manufacturers boldly stated that the "one million recruits" were wanted to join the large and growing army of "delighted smokers" of their "richly blended" cigarette.

You don't have to fall for it. You do not have to be one of the two thousand daily new recruits to the cigarette manufacturer's army of shock troops.

But the sly wolf comes in disguise, and in this case the disguise is "satisfaction" offered. Once the wolf gets its victim it throws off the disguise and stops talking about "satisfaction," but simply hands the "coffin tacks" across the counter, and takes your money, health, morals, success, and real satisfaction, in exchange, while you—well, you proceed to drive the tacks, one by one.

Says the cigarette: "I am not much of a mathematician, perhaps, but I can ADD nervous trouble; I can SUBTRACT from physical energy; I can MULTIPLY aches and pains; I can DIVIDE the mental powers; I can take INTEREST from work and I can DISCOUNT chances for success."

Dr. Heald, writing in Life and Health, says cigarettes are in many cases the direct cause of cancer, blindness, deafness, heart disease and dyspepsia. He further says they dwarf the body, benumb the brain and weaken character.

That cigarettes "hinder the development of the body" is testified to by the following physical directors of universities: Drs. Seaver and Anderson, of Yale; Dr. Hitchcock, of Ambrose; Dr. Meylin, of Columbia—as a result of repeated and careful measurements both of smokers and non-smokers.

Judge Ben Lindsey says: "No pure-minded, honest, manly, brave boy will smoke a cigarette."

"Home-Run" Baker says: "I do not smoke—never did. If any youngster wants advice from one who doesn't mean to preach, there it is: Leave cigarettes alone!"

Dr. Coffin, of the Whittier Reform School, says: "Of the 1,700 boys who have been inmates of this institution, 1,670 were cigarette smokers!"

There is "satisfaction" for you; no, not for you, but only satisfaction for the cigarette manufacturer and dealer, such satisfaction as comes from ill-gotten gains, which after all cannot be permanent.

Yes, "it satisfies"—the cigarette,—it satisfies—satisfies the devil, and he laughs, and his is the only real long laugh that the cigarette affords.

The cigarette-tree is known by its fruit. Cut it out.

Read 1 Corinthians 9:24-27.



XXXI

THE BIG TASK

Say, fellows, some years ago France gave a man a large task. The man's name was De Lesseps, and the task was to cut a ditch seventy-two feet wide across Panama, to unite the two great oceans. Part of the cutting was to be through hills two hundred and fifty feet high. It was a big order, and although De Lesseps had the resources of a great republic back of him, he failed to deliver. Aside from the gigantic feat of digging and removing stone and earth, there were malaria and yellow fever in the swamps, which killed thousands of labourers, and there were theft and bribery in the financial management, which swallowed up the money. These things were like giants invincible, blocking the way against success.

Twenty-two years later the United States tackled that same job. General Goethals was sent to Panama, and he put it through. Himself a skillful engineer, confident of the success of the enterprise, and with all the resources of Uncle Sam back of him, he set to work. Surgeon-General Gorgas stamped out yellow fever and malaria by draining the swamps and eliminating the mosquito, making the canal zone practically a health resort.

Thus, with unlimited financial power, the latest discoveries of science and invention, skill, and an ample supply of labour, coupled with faith in the plan and an unconquerable spirit, the man cut through, two oceans came together, and the world's commerce passed back and forth in an endless stream.

It was a big order, nobly executed.

Yet, fellows, there was an infinitely bigger order given to those twelve faithful, believing men, when our Lord calmly told them to go out and do five things, namely: "Preach the Gospel, heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, and cast out devils"—infinitely bigger, in that it required infinitely more power. Jesus furnished the power, the disciples furnished the faith and effort, and the five things were done.

There was the malaria of sin in the way, and mountains of unbelief, but they cut through, and the ocean of God's love, on one side, and the ocean of man's need, on the other, were united!

Had you thought of it, fellows, that every Christian is challenged and commissioned to do a big, hard task for Jesus? The task is big and hard because it requires Almighty Power, but Jesus supplies the power. Our part is simply to throw ourselves into the job. We hesitate because we forget that God gives no task but that He sees us through, and the bigger and harder the job the more abundant and free is the supply of power. Our part is to proceed. He will see that we succeed. We take a step at a time; we go by the blueprints while He holds the future in His hand.

"A man went down to Panama, Where many men had died, To slip the sliding mountain And lift the eternal tide. A man went down to Panama, And the mountain stood aside."

That's the poetry of it, fellows, but the practical prose is like this:

A shovel. A pick. And dig. And dig. And dig.

Read Matthew 17:14-21.



XXXII

POWER

Say, fellows, Marconi has succeeded in lighting an incandescent bulb eight miles away without the use of a wire. It is the transmission of power by wireless. Experiments have also been successful in electrically guiding, starting, and stopping, without visible connection, a torpedo or even a battleship from the land or from a ship. The human voice has been projected through the ether from Washington, D.C., to San Francisco, by wireless telephone.

These things are sufficiently marvellous to make us gasp—and yet how far they fall short of the things which Jesus did, as recorded in the eighth and ninth chapters of Matthew. The centurion's servant was sick some distance away. It would have been miracle enough if Jesus had gone to him, touched him, and healed him; but Jesus met a new brand of faith in the centurion, and He more than matched it with a new sample of His divine power.

He simply spoke, and the man in the distance was instantly made well. In Hebrews 1:3 you will find this phrase: "By the word of his power." It was that word which created the universe; by that word He had created the centurion's servant; and now by that same wonder of wonders He reaches through space and re-creates; He lifts the sick man off his bed, twelve miles away (it might just as well have been thousands of miles), puts him on his feet, sound and well, and serving his master!

Now, fellows, you and I can link up to that power, and we only have to apply for a connection; we need not make a journey to get it. When we want light or fuel gas or a telephone in our home, we simply apply for it; the company connects the house with the supply mains, and the power comes within reach of our hands. But here is divine power available, and we do not get it because we do not ask for it.

The centurion had unusual faith when he believed Jesus could command the forces of nature and be obeyed, just as he [the centurion] could command his household servants and be obeyed, and Jesus met that faith in a marvellously unusual way. You and I are continually making mistakes and failures and "messing things up." We want to be a success in life. We want everything we undertake, in work or play, to "pan out" well. But unseen forces are at work to hinder, and circumstances intervene which we cannot control. Here's the magic secret: link up with Jesus' power.

I asked a modest tennis player how he had managed to win out in the finals against an opponent who was much his superior in skill and training. He replied: "I'm afraid I took an 'unfair' advantage of him—I prayed to win"; and he smiled. I heard of a famous quarterback on one of the big 'varsity teams who linked his game with prayer and got unusual power in the play. And why not?

But there is more to the secret. To make that "linking up" effective, it must be accompanied by complete surrender of the life to Jesus' authority. Power is unsafe unless divinely controlled—worse than that, it is fatal.

Let's put the whole matter in Jesus' hands, and we'll have a great time!

Read John 4:46-54.



XXXIII

CHRISTMAS

Say, fellows, when it was announced in the Edison home seventy-three years ago that a boy was born, and his name was Tom, it was a great day for the world. It was a great day for you and for me—though we were not yet born. Think a minute how it would be without the electric light, now illuminating every city and town in the world—at the touch of a button in millions of homes and halls and offices and factories turning darkness into day. It is wonderful that the birth of one boy named Tom should mean so much to the world. Yet who can say that had Edison not been born none would have discovered the incandescent lamp?

It was another wonderful day when Mr. and Mrs. Watt announced the birth of their son James—a wonderful day for the world and for you and me. Think of how many ways steam power, through manufacture and transportation, adds to our comfort and pleasure. Yet who can say that no man would have discovered and harnessed this giant to serve mankind if James Watt had not seen the light of day?

Still another wonderful day it was when the Bells announced the birth of a boy whom they named Alexander Graham—a wonderful day for the world and for you and me. How would we get on without the telephone? Yet who can say that no one would have invented the telephone if Alexander Graham Bell had not been born?

But, oh, fellows, the supreme birthday of all time was that which was announced by the angels to the shepherds watching their flocks by night in the Judean fields; it was that birthday signalled by a glorious star to the Wise-men who came to Bethlehem with gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. The birth of Jesus means more to the world and to you and me than all the other birthdays combined. Those other birthdays brought material blessings. The coming of Jesus into the world not only made possible the highest enjoyment of all material blessing, but—far more important—made possible the most wonderful spiritual blessing imaginable, and that is the only benefit which can endure through life and eternity.

Neither can it be said that if Jesus had not been born some other might have brought us salvation and life and joy, for "there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved."

Edison was used of God to give us light to read by; Jesus gives us light to live by and to die by.

Watt was used of God to give us steam power with which to manufacture and to haul; Jesus gives us power to overcome evil which would destroy us, body and soul, and that power is infinitely more necessary.

Dr. Bell was used of God to supply us with the means of speaking and hearing over long distances; Jesus gives us connection with God and shortens to whispering nearness and forgiveness the long distance of separation between an outraged Heavenly Father and a disobedient child.

Read Luke 2:1-20.



XXXIV

AIMING HIGH

Say, fellows, on the train sometimes a fellow-passenger becomes confidential and tells a story right out of his heart. One of this kind came to me the other day.

There were two brothers—clever boys, keen, alert, ambitious. They lived in a Christian home. God spoke very clearly to both of them, calling them to lives of consecrated service for Him.

A—— decided to train for the ministry. B—— said the ministry was poorly paid. He felt that A—— was needlessly committing himself to a life of sacrifice. He shuddered at the prospect of a poor preacher's hand to mouth existence. As for him, he would sell his talents in the world market, where brains and training counted for something and brought a large price. Not for him the narrow life in a small corner, when a young man of ambition and push could live and have a good time in the big current. A fortune, a fame, and a life on the high road of ease and pleasure were the things really worth striving for, and for these he proposed to drive.

Twelve or fifteen years have passed since these decisions were formed. A—— finished his seminary training, was licensed as a minister, and accepted a little country charge. It was hard sledding, the salary was small, and the work was more or less discouraging, but it was a clean course and a clear road, and he buckled down, throwing into his work all his resources.

B—— went to a large city and got a trial job as reporter on a big daily. He had a mind for writing—a good vocabulary, and a flow of language which gave promise of carrying him to the goal of his ambition. He wrote verses in good style, and had had a number of poems in his college magazine. B——'s program, you remember, put special emphasis upon "having the good things of this life while you may." Putting the emphasis there is likely to warp one's judgment as to what are really "the good things," and so it proved in B——'s case, for he spent his salary on luxuries, and for the temporary gratification of his appetite and his ideas of "a good time."

He had to call on his father periodically for money to pay for dire necessities. It was not surprising that B——'s jobs changed frequently and he went from city to city—the general direction of his fortunes, habits, and health being downward. Just now he has a job on a little weekly paper in a village. His bare pittance in these parlous days of H.C.L. hardly sustains his solitary bachelor existence. He is a broken-hearted and discouraged man—not old in years, but with the snap and vigour of young manhood gone. He is in debt, and there is small chance of his getting out. He is practically a cipher in his community. Life is one daily reminder of failure, and the relentless bearing down of bitter disappointment.

But look at A——. He is the happy and enthusiastic pastor of a large and growing congregation, which congregation is simply "daffy" about him. They pay him a good salary, even as salaries go in these advanced times, and he is absolutely free from financial care. He has a commodious and comfortable home, presided over by his wife and blessed with little children. His congregation recently made him an anniversary present of a three thousand dollar car, replacing one they had previously given him, of a cheaper make.

My passenger companion (who, by the way, is the father of these two boys) said when he was at A——'s home recently, two dressed turkeys were sent in by two families of his congregation on the same day. His is one of the progressive churches of the state. It supports a number of outpost missions, "manned" by the members of his congregation. He is held in high esteem, not only in the community but in the state. And with all this, he seems to be only upon the threshold of his life-work, with a career of greatest usefulness laid out invitingly before him. Endowed, like his brother, with unusual natural ability, he is finding widest scope for the free play of all his powers; and these powers being fully consecrated, are illuminated and energized by the very-power of God.

Now, fellows, which of these two was wise? Which would you rather be?

Truly God means what He says when He tells you and me to-day: "Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you"!

Read Matthew 6:25-34.



XXXV

WAITING

Say, fellows, are you "game" to consider a tough little word in the language to-day? All right, brace up, for it is one of the hardest things a fellow has to tackle, and the main reason why it is hard is that you can't tackle it, but have to wait.

There! I have said it—the word is W-A-I-T.

The boys who went to France say they didn't so much mind "going over the top" as they did the sometimes long waiting and suspense which preceded.

In every fellow's boyhood days there are necessary periods of waiting; not idle waiting, mind you. The "prodigal son" couldn't stand it, you remember. "Dad, give me what is coming to me, and let me get away from the humdrum life of the farm. I want to see life!" and he picked his fruit green and ate it. That poor fellow got an awful stomach-ache—and it was the worse ache of emptiness and not of fullness!

But maybe you are wondering what all this has to do with these three parables of the kingdom spoken by our Lord. Just this: they are "wait" parables. The servants of the man who had sowed wheat in his field, said: "Master, look! tares are coming up with the wheat—what shall we do?" Their master said, "Wait." Then when the harvest ripened and the thing could be safely handled without injuring the wheat, the tares were separated and destroyed. A fellow struggling along, trying to do right, finding it up-hill work and the denial of many so-called pleasures, sees another fellow running a loose and reckless program, doing all the forbidden things, yet without injury apparently.

It looks as though one can disobey all the rules, have a fine time, and suffer no setbacks. What's the use stinting and pinching oneself into a straight and narrow track when those out on the broad way are having all the life—and getting away with it? Well, bo, you just wait. It looked awful gloomy for the Allies all through those trench waiting months of 1915 to 1918; but in 1918 Chateau-Thierry popped through. The strength of an ally had been developing, and there followed in rapid succession the victories of Belleau Wood, the Argonne, and St. Mihiel—and Right came into its own.

Remember, the waiting time of a boy's life is that time of silent growing of the moral fiber, the character, and at the proper moment he will rise in the full strength of a well-rounded manhood and take his rightful place in the world of things, while tares which were ever so flourishing go to the dump heap and the trash burning.

The mustard seed was very small, lying there in the ground. It had to wait. Even when it came up and looked about, it seemed there was hardly a chance for so fragile a stem, but it waited, and while it waited, it grew. After a while it became a full-grown bush, and the birds of the air came and lodged in it. There is a legend about trees longing for birds to come to their branches, some trees growing lonesome or jealous because other trees seemed to be more inviting to the birds. That is much like human nature. We naturally like to be sought out. "Wait" is the watchword; keep sweet and hustle, and soon enough our branches will reach high and spread.

The woman put the yeast in the dough, then set it by to wait. What a mistake it would have been to try to cook it at once; the bread would have been almost as heavy as lead, and totally unfit to eat. But while she waited, the leaven worked—and so while you patiently wait, doing God's will as best you know how, God works, and what a mighty Worker is He! Then, as you grow, He gives you a part to do alongside with Him; He and you work together.

Let's not be in too big a hurry for the Eats, fellows; let's work and wait—and then how good the Reward will taste.

That is the style of the kingdom of heaven.

Read Matthew 13:24-43.



XXXVI

ACTION

Say, fellows, there come times when a fellow must act, and act promptly, or lose his chance to clinch a good thing. In the preceding talk our key-word was "Wait." To-day it is a shorter, quicker, sharper word, and one that a boy likes better. A-c-t—that's it. There is movement,—something doing. The word is all pep, touch and go! We like it, don't we?

When he was twelve years old, Thomas Edison was a newsbutch on a road running out of Detroit. As the train left Detroit one morning, Edison, as usual, went back into the first-class coach with the morning papers. Near the front sat two young fellows, acting very gay. They hailed everybody who passed in the aisle, and they hallooed out the window at folks and objects as the train rolled along. They were on a lark, and wanted everybody to know it.

"Morning papers!" called out Edison.

"How much are they worth?" sang out one of the jolly fellows.

"Five cents," said Edison.

"Oh, how much for the whole bunch?" retorted the young man.

"Why," said the newsbutch looking a little surprised, "there are forty—they're worth two dollars."

"We'll take 'em," said the noisy passenger, and whipping out two crisp one-dollar bills, took the papers from Edison and handed them to his companion, who threw the entire bunch out of the train window. Evidently these young men had plenty of money to spend, and were inclined to make a sensation and attract attention.

Edison quickly took in the situation. "Phew," said he to himself, "here is a chance for real business," and he hurried forward to the "baggage" where his supply trunk was stored. He quickly returned with an armful of magazines, some rather out of date.

"How much are they worth?" promptly inquired the young spendthrifts.

"Twenty-five cents apiece, or $5.50 for the pile."

"Take 'em," said the spokesman, and paying the money he and his companion dumped the magazines out of the window.

Back to the "baggage" went Edison, and returned with his basket of fruit, candy, chewing-gum, and other things. Again the transaction, and goods, basket, and all went through the window.

Then Edison rushed once more to the "baggage." He piled everything he could lay any claim to into his supply box, some things old, some new, some unsalable, dragged the box through the train, crossing its open platforms between coaches with some difficulty, and at last drew up nearly breathless before these reckless buyers. Quickly he pulled off his coat, hat, collar, tie, and shoes, and piled them on top of the box and announced: "Everything I've got is for sale!" The price was paid, and the young men directed their servant, who was near by, to drag the box to the back of the coach and throw it out, which order was obeyed.

The newsbutch with a chuckle went forward to tell his friend the baggage man about his "streak of luck," while he fondly fingered a fat little roll of bills down deep in his trousers. His entire stock in trade had been transmuted into the coin of the realm, his profits were secure, his losses were nil. He had found a good thing, he had recognized an opportunity, and he had let no grass grow under his feet while he laid hold upon it and reaped the golden harvest.

Fellows, there is something like that, only far better, offering to you this moment. It is the treasure—not of perishable value like gold, but of eternal value. Jesus Christ is offering to take you into business with Him and let you deal with values so much finer and higher than anything else that the surprise and joy of them will last through all eternity.

Read Matthew 13:44-52.



XXXVII

A CORONATION

Say, fellows: This is David's big day. Let's enjoy it with him. Let's get in the crowd gathering at Hebron and see a coronation.

And what a crowd! About three hundred and forty-four thousand mighty men of war—all the tribes of Israel were represented there that day—and they came over the hills of Judah from north and east and south to put a crown on David which would make him king of all Israel.

For many years David had waited for this day. At the death of Saul, two tribes, Judah and Benjamin, had proclaimed him king, but ten of the tribes had crowned Saul's son, Ishbosheth, as his father's successor. So David waited seven and a half years longer, and then the whole kingdom came under his rule.

Many times during those long years when a fugitive from Saul, hiding in caves or seeking the protection of heathen kings, it must have seemed as if God had forgotten him, and once David did almost break down, but he rallied, took a fresh hold, and "carried on."

Now, fellows, it must be a fine sight to see a man receive a royal crown, but it is a finer sight when there are fine qualities in a man deserving honour and reward. No head deserves a crown unless there are crowning virtues in the life. What were some of the qualities in David which merited a crowning on that great day?

One was his faith. Faith in God; faith in his fellow-man; faith in himself. It takes faith even to start anywhere, and it takes more faith to arrive. David's faith was of the coronation variety.

Another was his patience. David waited. He did not try to force matters. Whenever God was ready—that was David's time. In one of his great psalms, he wrote: "I waited patiently for the Lord, and he heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings." David's patience was crowned.

Another was David's continual kindness to a foe. He was even kind to Saul's memory and rewarded the men who reverently took Saul's body from the wall of Bethshan and gave it decent burial. David's chivalry was crowned.

But, fellows, the fine thing to know is that the same princely qualities can exist to-day in each one of us; not for crowns on our heads, but for a great satisfaction in our hearts. Faith, patience, and a knightly spirit are just as possible possessions now as they were in David's day. They are spoken of in slightly different terms by Paul in the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians,—Faith, hope, and love. You can have them all. They are priceless, but you can have them if you ask for them.

Be a prince of the Royal House!

Read 2 Samuel 2:1-7.



XXXVIII

DO IT RIGHT

Say, fellows, down-town the other day a man tried to save a boy who was caught near some wires, and got killed himself for his trouble. Hard luck, wasn't it? Yet he had nobody to blame for it but himself. He took hold of a wire which carried the electric current for the street cars. He broke a law of nature and got punished. There was a way he could have gotten the wire away from the boy. A Boy Scout did it later with a pole.

Just the difference between touching with the hand or touching with a stick—very little, perhaps, but the law of electricity made the difference important, so that the one meant death—the other, life!

Now here comes along King David trying twice to move the ark of the Lord up to Jerusalem, where it ought to be, the first attempt proving fatal because he was foolish enough to try to handle it as the Philistines did, instead of doing it strictly by the rules God had made—rules which David should have known very well, because they were in his Bible (Num. 4:4-6, 15; also 1 Chron. 15:11-15). The rules required that the ark should be carried on poles resting on the shoulders of certain men set apart for that service, but David permitted them to put it on an ox cart, attended by Ahio and Uzzah, two well-meaning fellows, no doubt, but not according to the rules. One of the oxen stumbled, the ark jostled, and Uzzah put his hand on it to steady it. Presto! Uzzah a dead man on the side of the road!

They called David from where he was marching at the front of the procession, and when he got back there and saw what had happened, it gave him an awful shock, for he knew he was just as guilty as Uzzah—and perhaps more so. He ordered the men to take the ark into Obed-edom's house beside the road and be careful to pick it up by the poles. Then he went on back to Jerusalem without it. He got out the Book of Numbers and went over the rules about the ark very carefully. For three months he studied the matter. Then he went after the ark again—this time in God's way. He called for the priests and the men appointed to carry the ark; he organized a band and a great choir of singers, and went to Obed-edom's house. There they picked up the ark by the poles and started. Still David was scared, and when they had moved forward only ten yards ("six paces") he made them stop, while a sacrifice of oxen and rams was made to the Lord.

David was overjoyed when he saw everything going well, and he began to dance and to sing. All the way to Jerusalem he danced and shouted for joy.

David thought a lot of the ark, because it meant the presence of God, and that meant in this case the blessing of God. As he grew older and wiser he had greater reverence for God's house and all the holy things which were tokens of God's presence. In one of the psalms he wrote:

The Lord is in His holy temple; Let all the earth keep silence before Him.

The least a boy can do for God's honour is to keep quiet in church.

The best a boy can do for himself is to put God at the very center of his every interest—the fear of God, love for God, and reverence for all His holy law.

Take hold as God says, and everything will go fine!

Read 2 Samuel 6:1-11.



XXXIX

KEEPING FAITH

Say, fellows, it takes a real sport to live up to a promise when conditions shift on him. If there is a streak of yellow in his system he will find some way to kick out every time. Life is a big game, and it takes a real man to play it on the square—if only square and no more.

But, fellows, what can you say about that one man in a thousand who plays the game of "Remember and Pay" as finely as David did?

Young gentlemen, please meet Mephibosheth, this man of the twisted feet and outlandish name. Kings did not usually choose such to live in their courts and sit at the royal table. Only the fine-looking men and beautiful women were invited to become members of the king's household.

But, worse still, this Mephibosheth, being a grandson of Saul, was at any time a possible pretender to the throne. It was the custom of kings to get rid of such. Not so David. When he finds out about the poor cripple over there across the mountains east of the Jordan, he sends for him and invites him to come and live at the palace in Jerusalem.

Now you will find David's promise to Jonathan in 1 Samuel 20:14-17; and his promise to Saul in 1 Samuel 24:20-22. David had only agreed that when he became king he would not kill Saul's descendants. He could have fulfilled his promise by simply allowing Mephibosheth to live as he was doing, visiting around, kind of sneaky like, without any pocket change, among the few friends who would take him in.

What do you suppose Mephibosheth thought when the messengers showed up one morning at Machir's house and called for him to appear before the king? Scared to death, don't you think? No doubt he thought it was all over for him now, except the "slow driving and music on the hill." Why, when he came before the king he bowed clear down to the marble floor, doing obeisance, and called himself a dead dog. Then, what happened? He had to pinch himself to see whether he was dreaming. He never got over the surprise of it as long as he lived. King David helped him up on his crutches and told him to cheer up, for from that time forward he should sit at his table, and be as one of the king's own sons.

More than that: with all the thoughtfulness and fine courtesy of a Christian gentleman, David turned over to this cripple his grandfather Saul's estate, together with Saul's servant, old Ziba, with his fifteen sons and twenty slaves, to till the land. That was to provide Mephibosheth with an income.

Now, what do you know about that, fellows? It was playing the game of kindness to win, wasn't it? Win what? Why, to win the satisfaction which can only come to one who keeps his promise—and then some, for good measure!

Yes, it takes even more than a good sport to do that. It takes one who is willing to be Christlike.

Read 2 Samuel, Chapter 9.



XL

THE GAME THAT CAME NEAR BLOWING UP IN THE SEVENTH INNING

Say, fellows, have you heard the sorrowful news about David? Too bad! Just as we were beginning to think David, with his fine manly ways, his love for God's honour, for God's ark, his bravery, his fairness and kindness—just as we were thinking he would make a clean record to the end of the game, now here comes an awful flunk!

It's kind of like when the score is 2 to 0, in favor of the home team, and we are feeling good—then all of a sudden in the seventh inning the boys go all to pieces, and let the other side put four men across the plate.

Strange how David fumbled and played badly when he had had such a long winning streak, but so it must ever be when you get the idea you're "it" and can't slip. David let down, and away down. Fellows, would you believe it if it were not in the Bible—he broke all the commandments from the sixth to the tenth, inclusive. God says whatsoever a man sows, that shall he also reap. David sowed the wind and reaped the whirlwind. Absalom, his son, committed all the sins his father did, and added some, for he broke the fifth commandment also, and broke his father's heart.

David was very fond of Absalom, and would have done anything for him, but that boy didn't appreciate it. He was a good-looking chap; the girls admired him, and a lot of foolish fellows hung around him, flattered him, and made him vain.

Absalom had the big-head. If there is a sorry sight upon earth it is a fellow that is stuck on himself. Absalom was conceited and proud. He wanted even to be king in place of his father, and was unwilling to wait for what would have come in due time. Many a fellow spills the beans by being unwilling to wait. He ruins his best chance by trying to pick the fruit before it is ripe. If there is ever a time when patience is golden it is in the time of youth. A boy wants to stop studying and training, and take a short-cut to fame and success. It is usually a bad mistake.

Absalom's blunder was fatal. He tried to land on his father's throne by treachery; he landed in a tree, caught by his head. He thought to win a crown; he got three hot darts between the ribs from Joab. He planned to have a pile of wealth quickly gained, but by the end of the week his handsome form was buried deep beneath a pile of rocks. Ever afterward when an Israelite passed that monument of dishonour, he picked up a stone and cast it upon the heap to show his contempt for the memory of a disloyal son.

Oh, fellows, the tragic day of a boy's life is when he decides to throw over a good father. No matter what prize is offered. It may be to get more liberty; it may be to escape restraint or rebuke, but it is a bad trade at best. Ordinarily a boy's best man friend is his father. If this does not seem to be the case, usually it is because the son won't allow it. Many a father longs, like David, for his boy's confidence and companionship. Many a boy could have in his father the finest chum imaginable, if he would give his father a chance to show him what a real chum is.

Fellows, let's give Dad some of that fine Scout loyalty and watch him warm up to it. He may have some chum qualities you never thought of.

Read 2 Samuel 11:1-27, and 2 Samuel 15:7-18.



XLI

THE BITTEN APPLE

Say, fellows, I was visiting a boy friend one afternoon and while we played his mother called him. Wondering if there was anything wrong, I waited and listened while he answered the summons. I could hear her speaking to him as she said: "Bob, here are two apples—one for you and one for Wade."

Then I waited, and as Bob did not return at once I stepped to the corner of the house to see what kept him. That fellow was sitting on the step digging his teeth into one of the apples. I thought: "Well, that's polite, starting on his own before he gives the other to his guest!" It rather disgusted me. Directly Bob came round the corner, kind of sheepish like, and what do you suppose he did? Well, fellows, he offered me the bitten apple!

That was enough for me. Take it? I guess not. I turned on my heel without a word and went straight home. I don't think anything ever inspired more contempt in me as a boy than that piece of petty thievery.

Of course, fellows, that was not a Christian way to treat an erring playmate, and I fear I had very little charity in my heart; I am just telling you frankly how that act of Bob's impressed me. And it was only in the beginning of Bob's eventful career. Twenty-five years later, Bob's name was in the daily papers all over the country. He had gotten away with a big sum of money that belonged to others who had trusted him, and now he is a poor hunted fugitive from his native land, if indeed he is alive.

The boy who begins taking just a bite of somebody else's apple is likely going to pull off something big some day!

Suppose Bob's mother had handed him seven apples and asked him to save one of them for her, and he had made away with the whole lot, don't you think that would have been pretty mean and low down?

Listen, fellows, something mighty close to that—only a lot worse—is happening with boys to-day who look upon themselves as the souls of honour. I am just wondering if they fully realize it. It is not in their relationship to mother, but to God their heavenly Father and creator. He has placed in your hands and in mine, each week, seven full twenty-four hour days. He says, "Six for you and one for Me."

He trusts you to keep that One Day, the Sabbath, for Him. How do we discharge that trust? Are we worthy of it? God does not lock us up in a dark room on Sunday and handcuff us and chain our feet to the floor. No, He trusts us; He prefers to trust us. He wants us to honour His laws about the Sabbath, of our own free will. That is the kind of service God likes—willing service.

And, fellows, you cannot abuse that trust and escape the penalty. God has commanded in His Word, "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work." No man, no boy, can continually break the Sabbath day and get away with it. Sooner or later he will come to sorrow because of it.

On the other hand, God distinctly promises blessings upon those who honour His Sabbath (Isa. 58:13, 14).

Fellows, God is the best "payer" that ever promised. He always pays more than He promises. His day concerns our happiness, our health, our prosperity, our usefulness, our success. All these vital issues are involved.

And I am going to tell you just one more fine secret. It is a nugget of pure gold. The best way to avoid violating God's Sabbath is to get busy honouring it with service—service to Him. Go regularly to Sunday-school and to church service—and go on time. You will find something to do there.

Spend your Sabbath afternoon in the study of God's Word, read some good book that will feed your soul; spend some time in some work of mercy. Take a bit of something good to eat to the poor fellow in jail and tell him you do it because you love Jesus Christ and are trying to serve Him, and want him to love Christ and serve Him, too. You will find it a short day, but, oh, such a fine and happy one, and you will go to bed refreshed. Next morning you will wake up whistling and you will turn off work at the store or at school like a forty-horse tractor.

Read Exodus 20:8-11, and Isaiah 58:10-14.



XLII

MY KINGDOM

Say, fellows, I heard a boy quoting Shakespeare the other day. He was coming out of a movie with two other boys, just as I was passing. They had probably been in there an hour or more, for they seemed glad to get out in the fresh air. But the boy's exclamation was what caught my attention; it was this:

"My kingdom for a cigarette!"

To be sure, Shakespeare makes Richard III say, "My kingdom for a horse!"—the boy changed a word; and it was just a careless remark expressing his craving for a smoke, but it raised a question in my mind: Did that young fellow realize he said a very important and true thing? When Richard III cried out, "My kingdom for a horse!" he was dead in earnest; he was fighting for his very life against overwhelming odds, and he was really willing to surrender his kingdom for some swift means of getting away from that desperate scene of carnage. But if the cigarette boy had been faced pointblank with the proposition I do not believe he would have agreed to give up his kingdom for the "coffin tack."

Yes, this boy had a kingdom; every boy has a kingdom.

As I paused on the corner, the three boys entered a store and quickly came out, each with a cigarette in his mouth, taking deep inhalations and expelling smoke through lips and nostrils as they sauntered down the street.

I was still thinking of the boy's kingdom. Through a wonderful plan God, the Creator, puts each boy over an empire. Perhaps you may think it is a small one, but to him it is greater and means more for his success and happiness than any empire on earth. God places a scepter in each boy's hand and says, "Govern!—Rule over your kingdom!" And it is a very wonderful kingdom, with four splendid provinces called Physical, Mental, Social, and Spiritual. Each of these provinces is capable of producing great values and making rich and powerful almost beyond belief.

God also places at each boy's hand the resources for fighting off the enemies of his kingdom. This defensive armament, which is also for building work, in part consists of common sense, information (or education), will-power, determination, aspiration, and physical strength—and to make each of these effective, He gives His Word and sends His Holy Spirit to guide and sustain. If a fellow just realized it and would use what God puts in his hand he would have a kingdom he wouldn't exchange for Solomon's.

But, fellows, what a pity when a boy will exchange his kingdom for a cigarette; in comes the cigarette; down goes the physical province—the cigarette destroys the delicate tissues of the mucous membrane; down goes the mental province—the cigarette makes the mind dull and listless and takes away its snap and vigour; down goes the social province—the cigarette makes its victim shun the best and seek the lower grades of social life and activity; down goes the spiritual province, the most precious of all—for spirit chokes and dies in the atmosphere of the cigarette and its inevitable accompaniments.

This, of course, is just one of the enemies of a boy's kingdom; I have spoken of it particularly because it is the one which seems to catch boys off their guard most easily. There are many others. Intemperance of any kind is an enemy to the best interests of your empire. Send out a proclamation to yourself, to-day, and put all provinces on notice that you are on your throne and God is your Counsellor—and that henceforth none of the kingdom's enemies will be admitted across the border.

Read 1 Corinthians 10:9-15.



XLIII

A TOOL BOX

Say, fellows, on one of my boyhood birthdays I received a tool box. It was a peach of a tool box, too; not one of the dime store variety, with a saw the same length as the gimlet, but with a set of tools that no amateur carpenter would despise. I was greatly delighted with that tool box, and immediately began planning the things I would make. Mother wanted a shelf on the back porch and a coop for an old hen just off with her chicks; my dog needed a dog house, and I even aspired to a rowboat for the pond. I could hardly wait for material before getting to work. Fingering over those tools, my eye fell upon a motto graven on the inside of the lid of the box. It read:

BE SURE YOU ARE RIGHT—THEN GO AHEAD

Very good advice, I thought; but perhaps intended for fellows who knew less about tools than I did. I guessed I was not so apt to make mistakes, knowing so well what I wanted to do, and being so determined to do it. Several dollars' worth of lumber and nails were laid in, and I entered at once upon the work of "general manufacturing." Fritz was wagging his tail and barking as if he had scented the dog house in my plans, so I decided to attend to that first. It would have been better to start with the shelf, as that was simpler; but I slashed away on the dog house, and soon had some stuff sawed up for the framework. It didn't match. I sawed some more, and that didn't match. I began to think perhaps Fritz didn't specially need a dog house anyhow; so I tried to work the dog house materials into the chicken coop, but that wouldn't go, either. Then I sawed some more for the chicken coop. It was not as simple a proposition as I had thought it would be, besides there was a confusion of design somehow in my mind. The day wound up with nothing accomplished, except a lot of good material butchered to the point of kindling wood only. Next morning I tackled something I "knew I could do,"—the shelf. But that proved to be a surprisingly obstinate job; the supports I sawed at different angles, and when trying to force the joints together by nailing, I split them both. The shelf was a failure.

Then I saw a light.

I was rather dejectedly pondering the situation as I stood by the tool box, and my eye fell again on that motto! In not one instance had I made sure I was right before I went ahead. My zeal had been without knowledge. I had mistaken "Purpose" and "Determination," as the high prerequisites, instead of "Being Sure I was Right."

Fellows, Saul the Pharisee had zeal without knowledge. He blazed away upon the presumption that Jesus was an impostor. Why, the Jesus idea was preposterous, Saul mused. God's Kingdom was to be set up with a great capital at Jerusalem and a great and powerful king on the throne to whom all the world around would come and pay tribute. Anybody who claimed that the King had already come and been crucified like a thief was a dangerous fanatic and should be haled to prison or put to death.

This brilliant young Pharisee, carefully trained in ecclesiastical law and the traditions of the elders, went forth bitterly persecuting the followers of Jesus—even witnessing and approving the cruel stoning of Stephen. This showed Saul's Purpose and Determination, which he mistook for being Right. Well, we know that after that Saul suddenly "saw a light"; but think of the havoc Saul wrought before he came to his senses. Think of the Service Time wasted. Think of the fine Material destroyed—sawn asunder. Think of Stephen!

Fellows, are you building anything these days? Are you sure you are Right? Or are you just blazing away at something because you have warm red blood and all the zeal and purpose of youth? There is one thing each one of you is building. You are building a Life. Oh, fellows, be sure you are Right, for it is the most important structure you will ever put up, and remember that "other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." Be sure you are right—then go ahead. When your life is built on Jesus, you may go forward with confidence. Any other way means wasted time, wasted material, regrets, disappointment—and Failure at last.

"I have not built my house on sands, Tho' golden sands there be; I have not built with greedy hands A building fair to see; But my house on a solid Rock, And not the Builder I, But guest in house to stand the shock When tempests rend the sky. Lo, Christ! the Builder of my house, He laid foundation stone, So reck I not if storms carouse, For He will hold His own."

Read Acts 7:59-8:3.



XLIV

SAUL NIAGARA

Say, fellows, if there were two hundred railroad tracks out there, and on each track, every moment, passed a freight train carrying fifty cars, each car holding fifty tons of water (maximum load for the largest tank car), the two hundred trains, with their ten thousand cars per minute would not be more than sufficient to carry away the water as fast as it tumbles over Niagara Falls. With crushing and destructive force that mighty volume plunges downward into a great stone bowl which it has carved out for itself, so deep that if the Woolworth Building were set down in it not more than half of it would show above the top of the Falls. Engineers have estimated the total energy of Niagara Falls at sixteen million horse-power!

Fellows, I think of the life of Saul, afterward known as the Apostle Paul, as somewhat like Niagara River. The great river flows majestically, uninterruptedly, more than half of its length, having a fall of not more than twenty feet in twenty-two miles. Then suddenly something happens. Something tremendously tragic and startling happens. It plunges headlong over a precipice. Here is power gone mad.

Saul, the Pharisee, the scholar, the zealot—the colossal mind—sweeping everything before him like an irresistible tide, riding upon the crest of power, haling men and women to prison, breathing out threatenings and slaughter and making havoc of the church, fell headlong to the earth, as a blinding light burst forth from heaven and the voice of the Lord sounded in his ears—the "still small voice," yet mightier than the roar of any cataract.

"Who art thou, Lord?" "I am Jesus whom thou persecutest." "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" Saul's conversion was complete. Convert means to turn about. It means an entire change; not to be robbed of one's powers, but to have those powers diverted into another and entirely different channel.

Look again at the Falls—that great destructive mass tumbling over the cliff, beating rocks to pieces and slashing gigantic gorges in its course. What is happening? Science is harnessing the power of the cataract and with it producing light and heat and power for the cities of Canada and the United States. Darkness is dispelled, warmth takes the place of chill, the wheels of industry are humming, and men and women are enabled to live and make bread for their little ones, because of the conversion of a mighty force into life-giving usefulness.

Fellows, some people seem to think to accept Christ as the Master of their lives means to take away or paralyze their powers—to deprive them of some special activeness they possess and which they shrink from giving up. Bless you, there could not be a worse mistake. To accept Christ means to have those same powers, even though they might have been devoted to evil, now turned into channels of finest, highest service—the kind of service that really satisfies the cravings of the human heart. I see a boy who, because he is of an intensely sociable disposition, seeks the companionship of a gang of fellows around the loafing places and pool-rooms in the evenings. Touched by the spirit of Christ, those social qualities will be even more enthusiastically devoted to winning other young people into Christian life and service. I see a young fellow with an unbroken will, glorying in his freedom, as he sees it, to resist the counsels of wiser ones against his evil habits, cigarettes or any other destructive thing that may have gotten into his life. That same will-power, that same stubbornness, touched by the power of Christ becomes the rock-ribbed steadfastness that has enabled men to put through great achievements for God. I see a boy who can invent much devilment and get himself and others into an almost incredible amount of trouble and sorrow. It might be the judgment of some that "killing is the only thing good for him," but touched by the spirit of Jesus, that boy becomes a veritable genius for doing effective things to promote the Kingdom of God—and no fellow in the community happier than he. He verily throbs with the joy of living.

No, fellows, you don't turn a river back up-stream to convert it; you simply harness it, and its powers flow on, but for good and not for destruction. If you want to be a power that blesses wherever it touches, and dashes back into your own heart the spray of the salt and the tang of the fresh morning air, hear to-day the Voice of your Master, and quickly answer: "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"

Read Acts 9:1-19.



XLV

"TURNING THE BATTLE AT THE GATE"

Say, fellows, now and then a thing happens which sets our blood tingling and makes every nerve in us want to send up a mighty shout. For instance, when the score is against us in the ninth inning, and with two men out and the bases full, our pinch hitter comes to bat, coolly waits, picks out the "good one," and swats the pill over left-field fence! Or when Hindenburg's hordes are pouring into the Marne wedge, almost to the gates of Paris, Foch calmly waits—and prays while he waits—then at the crucial moment hurls those chafing reserves against them, turns disaster into victory and enshrines the names of Chateau-Thierry, Belleau Wood, and the American Marines in song and story for ages to come.

Fellows, every life is a campaign, and it is the biggest game of all; into this great contest come crises now and then, and the way we meet them largely determines the result. If those crises have not begun to come in your life, let it be the sure sign to you that God is holding them off while He gives you the opportunity to make the necessary preparation for them, for come they will. There will be times when the storm is breaking around your head and the ground will seem to be crumbling beneath your feet. Such times come to every fellow who sets his face to a principle and determines to stand like a man, no matter what it costs.

Fellows, Paul was that kind of a man. He had that steadfastness to principle, that firmness of purpose, which gave him poise when all about him was tumult. Other men lost their heads; Paul kept cool. It was a critical moment around the temple court that morning; the Jewish mob was murderous, the Roman chief captain was petulant, and he was cold and relentless as steel.

Paul had to handle both on separate grounds to keep them from "handling" him—and both at the same time. He shrewdly "played both ends against the middle." He drew from his quiver two keen but entirely different arrows, and both "went home." To the chief captain, he whispered one small word, "I am a Roman citizen." That made the grim warrior's jaw drop. It thoroughly frightened him and gave him such profound respect for his prisoner that on a later occasion he did Paul a very vital service.

To the mob of Jews clamouring for Paul's life, Paul having gained the chief captain's permission, turned and informed them in the Hebrew tongue that he was a better Jew than any of them, and he made out his case so well that they listened—and before they realized it, Paul had accomplished his object and delivered his shot, which was to proclaim Christ as "that Just One," the Saviour of the world—including the despised Gentiles. The Truth had gone home, and they gnashed their teeth, tore their own clothes into shreds, and threw dust into the air, while Paul was taken into the castle for further examination and, for the time being, was safe.

Fellows, baseball does furnish now and then a moment's thrill—and thank God for the clean game; a world war makes the earth tremble for many years—and may the Lord have pity upon its victims; but Paul was grappling the Big Event upon which Eternity shivers—the Disaster of rejecting Jesus Christ! And as we look upon Paul's life, his superb manner of meeting great crises as they came, how he held not his own life dear, we think of one of the great sayings of the prophet Isaiah:

"In that day shall the Lord of hosts be for a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, unto the residue of his people, and for a spirit of judgment to him that sitteth in judgment, and for strength TO THEM THAT TURN THE BATTLE AT THE GATE."

Fellows, if you and I want a career that will give highest satisfaction now, and will best bear record in Eternity, let's make Christ at once its dominant Theme and sustaining Power!

Read Acts 21:27-40 and 22:1-24.



XLVI

A KING IN RAGS

Say, fellows, a little ragamuffin—so the story goes—was being set upon by a mob of larger boys in the streets of London many years ago. These big bullies were jeering him and throwing sticks and cans at him. The little fellow was plucky and defiant, and it made them all the more cruel.

Suddenly there appeared in the crowd a tall swarthy young fellow slashing the tormentors right and left; until, after a stiff and unequal fight, in which the rescuer was greatly outmatched in strength, the cowardly ruffians were put to flight. That little ragamuffin was no less a personage than the King of England, and the curious circumstance by which he got into those rags and into that cruel torture is told by Mark Twain, in his most interesting story-book, "The Prince and the Pauper."

In a later chapter we see the little king restored to his rightful place upon the throne, and there amid the splendour of the court with all the lords and ladies looking on, a tall, swarthy young man advances and kneels and is knighted by the king. It is the same young man who broke through the crowd, and at the risk of getting his own head cracked took the part of the helpless little ragamuffin, not knowing he was a king.

That sounds like a romance—and it is; but, fellows, the same thing in all its interesting elements and its happy outcome is happening to-day in the streets and homes of your town and mine. All about us there are folks being set upon—cruelly set upon. The tormentors may not be ruffians in flesh and blood. They may simply be cruel circumstances. Sometimes fire, sometimes sickness, sometimes financial loss, sometimes accident, sometimes a combination of a number of pestering calamities, getting the victim down and making life very miserable in mind and uncomfortable in body.

Now think of the folks in your block, fellows; how many of them are in some sad plight which would make you shrink from exchanging places with them? They are being set upon; can you get in there and help in some way,—you with your good free strong arm, your big, sympathetic heart, your pocketbook, your resources of interest and fun?

And whom will you choose to help, and why? Will it be Tom Jones up here on the corner, who broke his arm and needs somebody to come sit with him and talk,—Tom Jones, who is rich and has a car of his own, and who will likely share it with you when he gets well, if you are good to him? Or will it be little Willie Bell over there across the railroad, who is a hopeless cripple, whose folks are poor as anything, and who can probably never repay you in any sort of way?