Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

"•? ■ 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 - \AniJI 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«£