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ATLANTA
"SOMETHING FOR NOTHING”
11 By REV. EVERETT DEAN ELLENWOOD, I
PASTOR UNIVERSALIST CHURCH I
1 UAVE headed till# article with a
portion of the title of a collection
of essays written by an Illustrious
ex-governor of the state of Illinois,
hfcause I desire, under this title, to
ca ll attention to one of the menacing,
pernicious tendencies of modern
American life.
' Every individual*who has ever had
occasion to sign or to receive the sig
nature to such an' Instrument knows
that a portion of the form of every
legally drawn promissory note consists
In the words, ‘.'Fdr value received."
The note thus becomes a certificate to
(he fact that some medium of value
has been passed-between and recog
nised bv the parties to this transaction,
-A me man who holds high his finan
cial honor, or who "keeps his credit
rvKl'' Is the man who Immediately
recognises the claim of the obligations
he has created and never so much as
thinks of attempting to evade them.
This |S the type of tnan whom the
sanies call "good" and whom the com
mercial agencies rate os "A-l.” The
man who repeatedly incurs financial
Obligations with no definite thought or
nlan for their prompt and honorable
discharge soon finds the doors of flntfh-
cla! opportunity closed and barred to
him, and then promptly sets up a wall
about the coldness and hardness of
the world, and the extreme difficulty
encountered by an honest,' well mean-
Ing man In making a living.
The Universal Law of Obligation.
Failure to recognize and unhesitat
ingly to obey this universal law of ob
ligation is responsible for nearly all of
the moral and financial shipwreck of
the world. Failure to render as “our
reasonable service” all of the good of
which we are capable In return for all
of the good which Is constantly lav
ished upon us, must speedily render us
Incapable of receiving good from any
source Just as It will certainly inca
pacitate us for Its transmission. The
former spgedll.v learns by experience
If he possess not the knowledge by In
heritance, that he will receive back
from the land only In proportion to the
diligence of his sowing and his tillage.
In this modern and practical age he
does not hope to gather "grapes from
thorns nor figs from thistles,” neither
(loos he confidently expect a bountiful
yield of the sown crop from a field Im
poverished by years of constant and
Injudicious husbandry. He does not
attempt to get "something for nothing”
from old Mother Earth, whom he ihay
not successfully cajole or flatter or
deceive. He knows that he will re
ceive back from Ills field only In di
rect proportion to his Investment of
seed, of fertilizer, nnd of labor of
brawn nnd of brain. For the cron
which shall gladden his heart nt the
end of the summer ho knows that he
must pay the full price of money, of
careful study of the condition and
needs of the soil, and of persistent ro
tation of crops as well as of earnest
and faithful toll. And so It is In ev
ery nvenue of man's material activity.
Youth's golden dreams of the free gifts
of a fairy godmother arc soon dis
pelled, nnd stem experience soon
teaches us that the value of the things
which life has In store for us shall al
ways be In direct ratio to the price we
are willing to pay.
"The heights by great ones reached
and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight:
But they, while their cothpanlons Blept
Were tolling upward through the
night."
That wondrous talent over which we
exclaim In awe, and for which we
praise the artist, the sculptor, the mu
sician, consists chiefly In the deter
mined application to patient and per
sistent toll, through all the trying and
tedious days of obscurity, thq liking
and the adaptability to hard work. It
rtEV. E. D. ELLENWOOD.
was the price he paid, that Is all.
keen nnd cultured Intellect Is the re
sult of constant companionship with
the world's greatest thinkers, together
with much of purposeful meditation
and careful and persistent thought
practice. A man does not become a
savant or n philosopher by constant
companionship with those Intellectu
ally his Inferiors, nor by devouring,
mentally, large quantities of the “All
Story” mngaxlne, or the "Universal
Fireside Monthly." A man's state of
mind and of Intellect Is almost al
ways a record of the price he has been
willing to pay for the thing he has
wanted. "
The Obligation le Uneieapable.
The analogy holds good In the moral
and spiritual as well as in the physical
and the intellectual realm.
I care not what certain theologies
may teach concerning n vicarious
atonement for sin, moral character Is
not and can not be vicariously secured.
This would be contrary to the laws of
nature and of nature's God.
I may be encouraged, Inspired, up
lifted by the righteousness of ,one
whom I love and trust, but not thus
alone may I become possessed of Ills
graces of deportment nor the excel
lence of character from which they
spring. I may not have a character
bestowed upon me, ifelther can I In
herit It. True enough. It Is that I
may have transmitted to me certain
tendencies of strength or of weakness
of moral fiber, but these shall prove
only n help or a handicap In my own
Individual struggle for >i character
which I may call my own. nnd which
I in turn shall find myself utterly pow
erless to bequeath. Character Is not a
moral commodity to be bestowed upon
the eager supplicant as the free gift
of God. It Is an Individual attainment
and Its worth, like everything else In
life, shall be measured by the price
of the soul’s needs and possibilities,
the persistent and relentless throttling
of the sensual and the selfish, and the
patient nurturing of the spiritual unto
life eternal.
When we come to fully realise that
character Is not merely the "way of
salvation," but that It Is salvation, and
when, having given over the Idle and
delusive dream of having the charac
ter of Christ bestowed freely upon us
by the sacrifice of Christ, we set pa
tiently and manfully about the task of
winning, by God's help, a character for
ourselves, we shall be able to compre
hend as never before what St. Paul
meant when he demanded that we
should "work out our own salvation,
with fear and trembling.” It la the
only way. Character Is not bestowed,
It Is developed. It costs much of In
dividual sacrifice nnd effort. Young
man, If you really want to be a man,
you must pay the price. No one else
can pay It for you. Distrust ns your
worst enemy that slncere'but misguid
ed theologian who holds out to you the
hope of tile immediate-attainment of
the character of Christ’s*'a result of
your belief In the efficacy of His
atonement for your shortcomings. God
does not will that Christ should thus
bestow upon you Ills character. He
would not be a loving and wise Father
If he thus gave to you what can only
possess value to you as It represents
the results of your mvn continued ef
fort. Be thankful, Indeed, that In your
struggle for a character you shall have
the help *.f every noble soul whom
God has raised up to be a witness for
Him, that the eternal spirit of right
eousness shnll constantly brood over
you, nnd that you shall he strength
ened and upheld by your contac
the spirit of the living Christ,
shout of triumph comes to you across
the shortened centuries: "Be of good
cheer! I have overcome the world."
Bo shnll your Innate manhood assert
Itself, and you shnll rejoice, rather
than lament, that the struggle Is your
own nnd not another's, ard that In the
moral market ns In every other activ
ity of life. It Is Impossible to get
'something for nothing."
chose
THF
misrci
:D\/i
VTION OF
fpiTI IAI FORfF
By REV. JAMES W. LEE,
11IL
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J\ yr
illv/li xJi Jr
mi i uml rurux
PASTOR TRINITY METHODIST CHURCH
1 * ‘
—
T HE discovery of the law of the
correlation and equivalence of
forces, has had vaet Influence
ug>n the thought of the present time.
It has furnished men with a new open
ing. through which they can behold
the nature of things from a different
angle of vision. It has given them a
new working hypothesis, and richer
conceptions of the universe and Its
author. The civilization of the pres
ent time, with all It contains, and with
all that It promises. Is due more to
this lhan to any other single discov
ery, or scientific principle. The brief
est formula of the principle le no force
Is ever lost. It shows the agencies
with which the world Is regulated and
'controlled to be one great brotherhood.
All forces are ultimately one force.
The rising up of force In one point,
Involves the subsidence of force In
some other point. The amount rising
up. ton. Is the exact equivalent of the
nmount subsiding. When a man lets a
rock fall from a church steeple, the
earth rises Just as muchto meet the rock
In proportion to Its mass as the rock
falls to meet the earth In proportion to
Its mass. When a men shoots a rlfieball
from a gun, us much force goes back
against the man's shoulder, as goes out
through the muzzle of the gun. What
the gun lacks In velocity It makes up
in mass, and what the ball lacks lit
mass it makes up In velocity. When a
pine. Imc , Is TU| down■< and split into
small pieces' and put Into an engine,
just the same amount of heat Is gath
ered from It that was garnered from
the sun in the hundreds of years of
Its growth. Then this beat Is con
verted into nn equivalent of steam, this
•team Into an equivalent of mechanical
motion. The sunshine, the pine tree, the
heat, the steam nnd the mechanical mo
tion are only different forms of the same
thing. Jinny scientific men claim that
this law not only reaches throughout the
physical world, but through all realm,
physical and metaphysical. Professot
Huxley said that a speech was so
much transmuted mutton. This
principle, which Is perhaps the best
established and far-reaching of all
scientific principles, we desire to apply
to the life and work of Christ. Grant
ing, as we must, the truth of this prin
ciple and Hs bearing In all realms,
and granting, too, that the work of or
dinary njen may be estimated by It, we
desire to Inquire If the life and work
of Christ form no exception to Its
operation,- as ordinarily regarded. Es
timated by this principle, can we ac
count for the work and Influence of
Christ among men on the assumption
that he was only a man. Has no more
force Issued from the life and work of
Christ then seemingly subsided when
He was crucified. Consider the mani
festations of force that have come di
rectly from the life of Christ. There
are the Bibles In the world. It has
taken a great deal of force to print
them, to bind them, to circulate them.
Millions of them are In the world.
They are translated Into all languages.
They are everywhere, In the poor
man's hut, and the rich man's palace.
Look at the books which have been
written about the Bible, In favor of It,
against It, In comments of It, In eluci
dation of It. Much force has been ex
pended In writing, and printing, and
advertising and circulating all these
books. Consider the churches there are
the world today. .They are built
of brick, of marble, of wood. They
ore everywhere. In approaching great
cities their spires are first to greet the
eyes. It has taken a great deal of
force, financial, mental and muscular,
t» build therm Then to keep them sup
plied with 'preachers and lights nnd
furniture has taken much force. Con
sider art, music, poetry, painting,
sculpture and architecture. Handel’s
Messiah, Danta's Inferno, The Last
Supper, Powers' Eve, 81. peters at
Rome. The subjects of these have
been furnished by Christ, and the In
spiration which produced them have
all come from Christ. In the concep
tion and production of these, a mar
velous amount of the most refined,
subtle force has been expended. Con
sider the Influence of Christ on the
homes of men. There Is hardly a homo
In Christendom today but has been
formed directly or indirectly with ref
erence to Christ. In these places
where character Is formed, where rev
olutlons are started, where Napoleons,
nnd Wesleys, nnd Gladstones are de
vcloped, where eternal Issues pend,
Christ has come, quietly and silently,
to regulate, to dominate and control.
To thus influence and vitally touch
homes, an Immense amount of force Is
required. Christ has given new dates
to the calendar of the ages. Infidels
In dating their letters pay tribute to
His character, In the fact that they
recognise he has ushered In a now era.
Christ has claimed and held through
nearly two thousand years one day
out of every week to be devoted to his
service. The dn.v upon which He wak
born Is celebrated In the hearts of
men and In the arts of men. To change
the world's calendar, to Inaugurate
nnd make permanent a new date, to
Impel the world to set apart a day
for His worship, to furnish the world
with new festivals and holidays has
required, certainly, a marvelous
amount of force. But greatest of all,
Christ has won the hearts of men. To
win the disinterested love of ono man
takes much force—more than most
men have. To win the Igve of a state
takes more. But to win and to hold
through the perturbations and revolu
tions of kingdoms and republics, the
undying love of the best and the pur
est of men on earth requires an In
finite a'mount of force. This point In
Christ's character greatly Impressed
the first Napoleon. Said he: “1 know-
men. Christ Is not- a~m*n. I have
seen the time when I could Inspire
thousands to die for me; but It took
the Inspiration of my presence and the
power of my word. Since I em away
from men, a prisoner on Helena, no one
will die for me. Christ, on the other
hand, has been away from the world
nearly two thousand years, and yet
there are millions who would die for
Hljn. 1 tell you Christ Is not a man. 1
know men.” Time would fall to tell
of all the Institutions, books, philo
sophic nppnratus, poems, symphonies,
lyrbs, newspapers, colleges, clxlllxa-
tlons, laws, discoveries, Inventions,
• DR. J. W. LEE.
homes and hearts Into which the force
of Christ's Ufa has for the past nine
teen hundred years been lifting Itself.
As the sun expresses Itself In the mea
dow and lifts Itself Into the trees of
the forest, so Christ has been embody
ing Himself In the Institutions, litera
ture, henrts- and thoughts of men. The
scientists sny all force can be account
ed for. When force rises up nt one
point It subsides at another. The
amount of force that rises up, they
say, Is the exact equivalent of the
amount that subsided. Upon this the
ory we must account for all the force
coming from the life of Christ that has
expressed Itself In the domestic, so
cial, political, ecclesiastical, literary,
commercial nnd other Institutions of
men. More has risen up than can be
computed by human arithmetic or
compassed by human thought. Where
did It come from? Where did It sub-
aide? At whnt point did It disap
pear to rise again In such overwhelm
ing volume, nnd such sweeping and
far-reaching Influence?
We go back through eighteen hun
dred years. We are standing In Jeru
salem. We hear conflicting rumors
of a Htrange, daring young man. At
length he Is pointed out to us. There
Is nothing remarkable about his ap
pearance. He Is a Jew. He was born
among the poor. He Is not noted for
culture. He has nn social position.
He has no money. He has no political
power, or prestige. He has nn army
at his command. Ho hns nn philosoph
ical system. He Is connected with no
academy. He Is only 33 years old.
His words are contained In no books.
They ore simply In the memories of
His disciples. He Is misunderstood.
His own disciples do not know what
to make of him. Finally he Is arrested
nnd tried and condemned anil cruel
fled. He dies between two thieves,
scorned, scoffed, buffeted nnd friend
less. Keep In mind the principles we
are considering. All force can be meas
ured. No more force rises up than
subsides. Action, and reaction are
equal. -We are seeking to account In
accordance with this principle for the
vest amount of force Christ hns poured
Into the Institution nnd thought of hu
manity. Is this young man's life,
seemingly to Insignificant nnd weak,
the exact equivalent of all the churches,
schools, colleges, arts, literature, homes,
governments, sacrifice, good works, he
roism, mnrtyrdom, patience, love and
hope, that have, by general consent,
resulted from His existence In the
world? If so, was He only a man?
Multiply IS years by poverty, toll, con
tempt, sorrow nnd crucifixion, and you
have one product. Multiply 1100 years
by millions of churches, schools and
homes; by social position, wealth and
power; by success, triumph and con
quest; by love, mercy and truth: by a
hold upon humanity unequaled, and by
an Influence upon human thought un
rivalled, nnd you have another product.
The question Is, Does one of these
pjoducta seem to he the equivalent of
the other? Does not the outcome sur
pass, by an Infinite degree, the Income?
Is not the evolution out of all propor
tion to the Involution? Has not a
great deal more force risen up than
seemingly subsided? Is there not much
more power seemingly on this side the
cross than there was on the other?
Manifestly nnd clearly, Christ's life
nnd work cannot be accounted for by
the law of the convertibility of forces.
Mahomet's life anil work can be ac
counted for by this principle. He suc
ceeded by the ordinary methods by
which men succeed. He appealed to
men's love of fame, conquest, wealth,
power, pleasure. He offered man, as a
reward for their fealty to hhn, n great
earthly kingdom, and euch n heaven
beyond the grave as would regale the
senses, pleaao the fancy and gratify
the appetites. He simply organised
nnd applied the latent earthly forces
already existing In his countrymen.
His success Is In line with Caesar and
Bonaparte. The kingdom which he
proposed to establish was a merely
earth!*. sensual, carnal kingdom. His
methods were carnal the motives to
which he appealed were sensual and
the hopes he Inspired were carnal.
Christ, on the other hand, condemned
man's love of conquest nnd fame and
wealth and power. He made the con
ditions of dlsclpleshlp to consist In the
denial of aelf and the relinquishment
of all earthly hopes, gratifications and
prospects.’ "If you find your life in My
kingdom,” said He, "you must lose It In
this.” He proposed to build up a king
dom that should be as wide as the
world nnd as lasting as eternity, with
out adopting a single method or utiliz
ing any of the means ordlnnrllv relied
on for surreaa. Not only did He pro-
n e a new kingdom, but to populate
rlth new men, motives, hopes, con
ceptions and opinions. Hence, to como
Into His kingdom, men were to be made
over. They were to die to eelf, to the
world, to pleasure. So Christ's work
nnd Influence In the world not only
forms an exception to the principle of
the correlation of forces, but here we
have nn unparalleled amount of force
rising up, when to all human appear
ances none subsided at all.
A j*oor young carpenter dies. He
goes down In Ignominy. Amid the Je-rs
and contempt of the multitude He
goes down Into the grave. But from
that moment commotion begins. For
giveness of sin In the name of Christ
Is preached; disciples are won:
churches arc built; -books are written;
civilizations nre touched: movements
are inaugurated; persecutions, relent
less nnd bloody, nrc wnged. The fires
of bate kre kindled, storms from all
round the social, political nnd religious
sky gather and howl and empty their
fury upon the now movement. Noth
ing Impedes It; fire cannot hinder It:
the sword does not alarm It. Now, we
submit, does not atirh a movement,
starting from such a source, nnd mov
ing out with such vigor, nnd becom
ing Intenaer and deeper ns It Is ex
tended, form a remarkable nnd singu
lar exception to the. principle we are
considering? Is there any rule known
among men by which It may be esti
mated. and classified and Inbe'ed?
Can any human, nr logical, or philo
sophical formula, or principle account
for tho multiform and widely diversi
fied facts In this case? Is it not tin
exception to all rules nnd human meth
ods of mcnsiiromcnt ? I to we not aug
ment the dlfllrultles of accounting for
the work of Christ by minifying Him,
nnd calling Him n mere man? Is not
the easier way to account for Christ's
work, to accord to Him all that Ho
clnlnts for Himself nnd all that His dis
ciples claimed for Him. He snld: "All
power Is given unto me In heaven and
in earth." If we necept this as true
wc can account for His work. Then
we can apply this principle In Its
higher bearings to the life of Chrlit
nnd the Influences which have grown
out of It. Then wc can say that the
life of Christ was the equivalent of the
kingdom which has been established
In the world through Ills name and
tile power of Ills word. But In this
view we will see Ihnt His life was di
vine, anti tine with that of the Father
of us oil. Then we will see that Ho
was the Son of God. the Word made
flesh, the Incarnation of the Divine
mind nnd wisdom and power.
THE DEATH-SONG OF JESUS
“And when they had aung an hymn,
they went out Into tho Mount of
Olive*."— Mark xivi 28.
By REV. JOHN E. WHITE,
PASTOR SECOND BAPTIST CHURCH
i,•,,••••••••••'
W E are conatantly supposing
that all the facts and events
of the life of Jesus have been
fathomed and set forth by the students
<it the New Testament, that nothing
has escaped their attention. But It Is
ait so. This text contains, what to
the and to most people, I judge, Ib a
ne« and startling portrait of Jesus.
Christ preaching, Christ weeping,'
Christ suffering, Christ weary. Christ
“ling, t'hrlst ascending, Christ in His
hcttei knmvn portraits we have come
•° "how w ell.. But what one of us has
cn faces awaiting their doom—the un
speakable horror of being burned alive
—the ring of spectaurs from the other
mills gathering for tescue, only to be
driven back. Oh, the sickening scene!
The screams have leased. Then one
of the girls, perhaps delirious, perhaps
not, started up the song they had been
singing In chorus when the crash cam*,
nnd one by one, till their voices all
Joined In a great song that rose above
the roaring of the flames, and died out
only xvhen every tongue was still In
death, they sang—
"Our heavenly home Is bright and fa'r.
No pain nor death can enter there.
Its glittering towers the sun outshine.
That heavenly mansion shell be mine.
The death eon? of Jeeus was like
In hi# gallery a portrait of Christ sink
ing a sang? I pause to let that picture
Uself before you.
. uit .singing Christ! This once and
on ly are we told that Jesus sang.
‘at) not doubt Ho sang many times unto that, a song of victory, of praise,
P?*™. hut only once did He sing as. of trust, of triumph nrnld the cnclr-
ne doc* hare. This was the death song cling gloom, the deepening darkness of
u Je:,us ' In front of His great passion Impending agonies.
Mf sang a hymn. Strange that neither ■ t
J?* 1 nor painter nor expositor has cel-
■i #M tp ' 11,0 significance of It and the
sublimity Into which Iho fact lifts the
character of Christ.
Songt of the Heartbreak.
A *™g always arrests us. On the
•heft. Issuing from the open window,
wherever we hear It, we give alien
s'’''' Especially songs sung In dread-
™ hours, songs on the death bed.
'nng# in sickness pr sorrow, take on
1 nuality of peculiar Impressiveness.
p nui an<l Silas singing at midnight
Pr,. dungeon at Phllllnl; Jerome of
.JJgue singing at the stake; the
the”^ Ks thc V went out to death in
heart*'
niusic
Mozart
R feverishly then called
■S daughter, Emily, telling her that
.L^.'lntshed; that his work was
and \ Umt "he should sing It to him,
the -t"keying; and at length, when
h notes of her voice and the
. t song died out, she turned with
*lth "ii n " yf " ,ul l of tears to reloloe
death " hR found him smiling In
i»rh. }'' fee * the beautv and the
nn..,.. >f that In the life of a great
»ou h Do J'ott recall the first time
Pemh'V' 1,10 "tory of the fall of the
More fh" 1 m111 ,n New Hampshire?
« is. . B a hundred girls employed
•xfiii s, de by side, a sudden.
d*r th» rilsh a " the floors gave way un-
ery i '"gilt and throb of maehln-
Mrmin. 1 , nB al * to the ground and
KX* d "' VI > 'he workers at their
The hi.. H via ® of crushing timbers!
tarn.* ,” ,lf nr * starts from an over-
fct rh ."tern and spreads amid the
trUnnll 1 <1<l * ,ar * showing the helpless
f '... with white and terror-strlck-
'And they sang a hymn and went out
Into the Mount of Olives."
I art us ask a question you have never
asked, and probably never heard
usked before.
The Death Song of Jesus.
. What was the hymn that Jesue sang
with His disciples on the night of His
betrayal?
There Is every reason to believe that
It was the 113th psalm. This psalm
Is the last of the great Hlllel which
was always sung at the conclusion of
the Passover. That night In Jerusalem
thousands were singing It as they rose
from the feast and parted. They sang
It as was their custom, drew from It
the Inspiration or their faith and went
•out and away to their peaceful homes
In Palestine. Christ tbolt that psalm
as His death eong. He fulfilled It, filled
It full of reality. No other singer that
night could sing It as He did. no other
singer felt It as He felt it. The shad
ows of Gethsemane and Calvary, the
awaiting torture, the fast closing mis
eries of physical and spiritual pain are
like a flood Just outside the door of
the upper room. In' that terrible hour
this Is what Jesue sang: "The Lord Is
on my side. I will not fear; what can
man do unto me? I shall not ale. but
live; the stone which the builders re
fused Is become the head of tHe cor
ner. This Is the day that the Lord hath
made; we will rejoice and be glad of
God Is the Lord which hath-ehowed
us light. Bind the- sacrifices with
cords; even unto the horns of the altar.
Thou art my God and 1 , W,I ' II
Thee, thou art my God, I will exalt
Thee. O give thanks unto the Lord,
for He is good, for HI* mercy endureth
f °Theec were the words of the song
that Jesus sang In the face of Ills
afflictions, and then He went out Into
the Mount of Ollvee to meet them
alone. "Into the woods my Master
went" with this song on His lips. I
think it armed Him for the conflict.
I think It comforted Hie soul to Its
passion.
Few great souls have drunk deeper
of the courage of Christ than Martin
Luther. He had learned the power of
the death song of Jesus. The 118th
psalm was his favorite.
Oftentimes when the perils of death
were about his head and dread persecu
tions, he would seek out Ms faithful
companion, Philip Meianthon, and say,
"Come, Philip, let us sing the 118th
psalm." Luther’s room became like
unto the upper chamber ringing forth
the words, "I shall not die but live.
This le th* d»v »'hl"h the Lord bath
made; we will rejoice and be glad In
It; O, give thanks unto the Lord, for
He Is good, for His merry endureth
forever." When Luther enme to trans-
Iste this psalm and dedicate It to hie
friend. Frederick of Nuremburg, he
wrote, "This Is my psalm, my choeen
psalm; I love them qll. 1 love all holy
Scripture, which is my consolation and
my life. But this psalm Is nearest to
my heart, and I have a peculiar right
to call It mine. It has saved me from
many a pressing danger from which no
emperors, nor kings, nor sages, nor
saints could have saved me."
Oh, It Is more then Luther's! It la
Luther's laird’s own hymn dedicated
by Hint to all who face agonies and
pains end necessitous hours
The Midnight Agony.
But our eyes are still upon that up-
per room In Jerusalem, our ears are
listening to the singing there. What
a trial to sing It must have been that
night. Here Is John on one side and
Peter on the other of Jeeus, singing,
Bind the sacrifice with cords, even
unto the horns of the altar.” Blessed
Ignorance! They do not know what
they nre singing. Had they known,
could they have sung at all? But
Tesus knew. Yet He sings. He sang
that song knowing what it meant, sang
with the heart-break upon Him, sang
on through to the end, and sang tri
umphantly.
But recently I have read an account
of a young mother - whose means of
livelihood was her gift of song. An
actress she was and must face the
heartless throng night njfter night,
though her only child, a little girl, was
III unto death at f’ne hotel. She had
to sing for bread. She refused an
encore one night to hurry back to the
little sufferer's side. When she got
there It was only to hear that there
was no hope; that the child bod been
celling for her, begging her mother to
sing to her. Can you think of any
thing more terrible than that midnight
agony? In the very presence of the
REV. DR. JOHN E. WHITE.
shadow of death the brave little woman
gathered her baby to her breaking
heart and walked up and back tho
death' rfiom singing what the child
wanted:
‘I think when I read that aweet story
of old,
When Jesus was once among men.
How He called little children like
IsmbH to HIS fold,
I should like to have been with Him
then."
Can you think how hard It was to
sing In an hour like that? Oh, then,
what a sublimity of pathos It was for
Jesus-to sing on the night of Ills be
trayal! The footsteps of the betrayer
have hardly died away. The whole
day_and night has been one pressure
of pain. Can words bear half the bur
den of love and tenderness which the
hour, tho circumstances are putting
upon the lips of Jesus? Taking the
bread from the table and holding it
before them, "This Is my body, bro
ken for you," and the cup red and
beaded to a blood glow, "This Is my
blood which I* shed for you," and then
rising up. surrounded by the eleven
men He loved so well, who could not
understand, who In e few hours would
forsake Him; his murderers yonder
waiting with sword* and staves; In
full view- to Him the hall of Calaphaa, |
the carpenter at His' own old trade;
arpenter at His own
ig a cross for shameful sutrenng.
In which he wduld be the sufferer;
standing there, the loneliest soul of
the world, singing—
"I shall not die but live and declare
the works of the Lord. This. Is the
day which the Lord hath made. We
will rejoice and be glad In It. God le
the Lord who hath showed us light.
Bind the sacrifice with cords even
unto the horns of the altar. Thou art
my Ood nnd 1 will prnlso thee. Thou
nrt my Ood, I will exalt thee, O, give
thanks unto the Lord for He Is good,
for His mercy endureth forever."
Oh, there's a life's gospel In ihnt for
us somewhere. A message from God
today for every one who will aee the
courage ami fidelity of Jeeus In the
face of hie troubles.
In a few minutes you will be going
out. Do you know, con you know to
what? Yes, some of you know exactly
what you are going out to. Some here
will be going beck to the old Geth-
aemane, the old cross end the pains
they have become familiar with. Some
times the constant going back to the
old sorrows seems unbearable long
er, "le It to be this, this always?” You
ask, and resentment Is In your heart
against your fate and often against
God. One time you have dared even
to say, "It would be better for Gad If
I didn't believe In Him, for then I
would not feel the. resentment against
Him.” So you are going out today to
front this old Gethsemane and the
crucifixion of .your life. Will you not
be entreated of Christ and sing some
thing brave, something noble, some
thing with the larger vision In Itf
I do not mean that any man should
try to sing away the facte of hl« life
cheaply, that your aong should be an
effort to forget your troubles. There
Is enough of that, men drowning trou
ble, kicking It off end casting It out of
mind. There I* enough of that, wom
en thro'wtng themselves Into the gsy-
etles of society to make forgetfulness.
There Is nothing noble In that. It Is
only a kind of cowardly mental opiate.
The song that Christ sang was In the
fere of His sorrow, not away from It.
As on the cross He refused the ano
dyne, so In His song He turned not
nway from the path of His pain. He
sang and went out—out to meet His
sorrow, out to tread the wine press
alone. That Is the entreatv of this
text. Don’t try to forget, don't seek
escape, hut sing a song In the fare of
your old Brief* and sing It bravely
through. And do I mean, my friend,
that you are to go on and on forever
In a plaintive, pathetic fashion of tune
ful resignation? No, I do not. Re
sign nothing. Hope, believe, expect
everything. The hour will como when
you will not need to sing song* In the
night, because the day of victory and
relief has come. The song of Jesus
wan a prophecy throughout.
"Oh, but who can see as far as that?
Who can see all the way to resurrec
tion nnd deliverance?" I do not sny
that any men can "aee the triumph
from afar end ^clze it with hie eye,"
ns the old hymn has It. I do not say
that Christ saw all the way beyond
Calvary to the Enthronement when
He snng His death song; but I do say
that He knew It. He knew It by faith.
Faith never sees. Faith knows, trusts,
goes on believing that somehow, Iw-
rauee the Father has promised, clouds
will break, somehow deliverance will
come. Faith goes on stepping In the
light of the present; trusting for light
for the future.
“I do not a*K to see the dills nt scene.
One step enough for me."
Wss It not grand last winter In At
lama, yet fearful—the trees all man
tled In Ire. raeh branch nnd twig grip
ped In winter's cold, hard hand nnd
crushed and bruised ami broken? Woe
has come upon the trees. Look at the
still fresh wound*. We called It hav
oc and ruin, but do you know nature
was not singing a sad and hopeless
song that day? All her outlook was
toward re|ialr and replacement. She
faced her trouble ruggedly. Nature
knows that spring la coming—that
resurrection Is yonder. If we will
think we will know it, too. Because
we see any buds or feel any summer
wind? No. By faith we know that
spring will come and cover all Ihess
wounds In'bowers of green. "Oh, yo of
little faith. If your Father so repair
th* trees how much more shall He re
pair your broken heart, how much
more s little ways hence will
cure your darkness and give
you flood* of light, and such light
as was never seen on sea or land. Ev
ery brave song and every brave step
In your gloom Is carrying you through
and out of It toward the sunrise.
There are others here who will In
a few minutes be going out of this
upper room. Do you aee. can ydu see
to what? You cannot see, but you can
know, for faith acquaints us with
griefs aa well ae Joys. Let me tell you,
the healthleet end happiest of you, that
there was nothing endured by Chrlet
which each one of you may not be
called on to suffer In his own degree.
You cannot eee your Gethsemane, but
you can know that It Is Inevitable,
■into each Ilf* some rain must fall.”
May I not know It for myself, that
upon my. ae yet, unbrulsed shoulders
a heavy croea will yet be laid, that
life will not, cannot be all health and
youtlr and unaffllctedness? May I not
know It for you? Before you Is n
garden of qilves end the oil press of
agony. Whet song will you sing to
day before that? Let us strike a brave
note, sing a brave song nnd go ini!
unshrinkingly to confront whatever I
cross awaits us. Let us be strung In
the Lord end In the power of Hie
might.
8ing On, Deer Heart, Sing On.
A friend In this city ‘called me to
his room three years ngo nnd said:
"The doctor has Just pronounced a
sentence of death upon me. He says
I cannot live more lhan two year*.
He advises me lo give up work and
take things quietly and easily. Now.
1 cannot do that. My family, my chil
dren are dependent upon me. I don't
'want to ilo that. 1 sin not going to
do that. Between you nnd me I like
my doctor and 1 believe him when It
will do any good to, ‘but I don't be
lieve a word he says about till*. I am
not going to die. I am going to live
and serve God."
And he did. Ue sang a brute song.
He snng It and went out to his Geth-
semene and his crucifixion and con
quered both. There. Is something be
yond the cross of (min to the man or
the woman who will sing. the song
of faith arid confidence and go on.
The death aong of Jesus Is a song
of health for us. He Is singing It still,
a an endless music that heaven
K ura down for us all. But we must
In tune with it and sing It with •
will If we sing It at all.
"When'friends nre few or far away.
Sing on, dear heart, sing on!
They rise to sing who kneel to pray.
Sing on, dear heart, sing on.
Tin* .'•"iig* el earth to tienven ascend
And with adoring anthems blend,
Whoee ringing echoes ne’er shall end.
Sing on, dear heart, sing on.”
Ind when they
they went out Int
Olives."
had
Important Change of Sched<
ule on Seaboard Air
Line Railway.
Effective Sunday. September fth.
Important change of schedule will be
made on tho Seaboard Air Line. Bap*
ticular attention Is called to the feci
that train No. 38, which now leave*
Atlanta. !*:35 p. m. t will on and after
September 9th, leave Atlanta at 6:4Q
p. m., Central time.
OH
and WHMKBV HAflfT*
eared st Sow «Mfe»
out pels. Book of an.
ticutar. Met ratal.
_ B. M. WnOIXKT. St.JX
ooc. 1M N. rrrw»ts«£