Newspaper Page Text
lie had "asked the blessing" at the opening
of the meal, had done it at a glance from the
little lady across the table, in the simple fash
ion he had learned at the old home: "Dear
Jesus, we thank thee for our daily bread. May
it nourish us and strengthen us for the duties
of the day. Amen."
But this was something other and harder, he
felt. And yet it was something he knew ought
to be done, and that he always meant some
time should be done. And now here he was
facing the issue. "What shall I say?" he
asked.
"Here is the good Book," said Mary, pro
ducing her study Bible from the sewing-stand
at the side. "I marked a passage I thought you
might like to read." With a little eagerness
to know what she had chosen, and yet his hand
trembling a bit with the new and sudden bur
den of his priesthood in the home, he turned
to these words and read:
"And the man bowed down his head, and
worshipped the Lord. And he said, Blessed be
the Lord God of my master Abraham, who
hath not left destitute my master of his mercy
and his truth: I being in the way, the Lord
led me to the house of my master's brethren"
(Gen. 24:26, 27).
It was one of those many scriptures in the
Old and New Testaments that dignify the
home and sanctify the wedded life. Its holy
atmosphere and accent chastened the thought
and refreshed the soul in the very reading.
When he looked up Mary was gazing calmly
and expectantly at him. He knew what it
meant. A moment he paused, while a silent,
arrowy prayer went up for strength from two
hearts, and quietly he said, "Let us pray."
And this was what he said : "Our Father in
heaven ; we thank Thee for this Thy word ; wo
thank Thee for our happy home, and for all the
mercies that come to us new every morning.
Help us to live for Thee today and for the bless
ed Christ that hath redeemed us. Grant us Thy
Spirit, preserve us from harm, and keep us
from sin this day, and at last, when life's work
is ended, graciously receive us to Thyself and
to the dear ones gone before. We ask it all
in Jesus' name. Amen."
It was enough. The good-bye kiss was sweet
er and more sacred, and all the day long the
remembrance of this happy, wholesome open
ing of its hours lent a sense of peace and of
calm praise to the soul that made it like one
of the days of heaven upon earth.
Thus well begun, the days went on evenly
and rightly. Each morning Mary had her Scrip
ture marked for John to read ? a brief pass
age ? not more than ten verses usually, for the
time was short.
One day they were later than ordinarily in
rising, and there was but a moment to spare
at the close of the meal. But there was the
resolve each had tacitly made, "In the morn
ing will I direct my prayer unto Thee, and w/11
look up."
The up-look of the morning was not for
gotten, two heads bowed a moment while it
was the wife's gentle voice that glided into
the petition that both took up: "Our Father
who art in heaven." Then oft for the day's
tasks with a ready hand, a happy heart, and
a quiet mind.
Dear friends, starting out on life's pilgrim
age, hand-in-hand, start right. Begin each day
at the gates of prayer, and keep Christ a con
stant guest in your home and within your
heart.
"But my God shall supply all your need,
according to his riches in glory by Christ
Jesus. Now unto God and our Father be glory
for ever and ever. Amen" (Phil. 4:19, 20).
THE PERFECT FRIEND.
No longer (lo I call you servants; for the ser
vant knoweth not what his Lord doeth; but I have
called you friends. ? John 15:15.
One only friend we have
Accounted sure;
One only love is ours
That will endure.
All other friends are dear:
Ho knows how dear
Who gave them for our joy
And solace here.
All other loves are sweet;
He knows how sweet
Of whom sad souls that lack
For love entreat.
But friends however true
This life will test,
And they will fail us oft
Who know us best.
And love, however strong
In time may change;
Misfortunes may divide,
New ties estrange.
Sorest of all will come
Some sad offense;
Mistrust will chill, and doubt
Drive friendship hence.
O slow of heart to learn
What yet we own ?
One only perfect friend
Hath any known.
? Harriet McEwen Kimball.
HANDICAPPED LIVES.
One of the most thrilling chapters in all hu
man history is the story of how men have over
come their handicaps and obtained a true vic
tory. Ten thousand battles are being silently
fought every day by those who suffer some
grave limitation or hindrance of life. Here is
one of the sublimities of history, although his
tory often fails to record it.
Julius Caesar gave little military promise;
Cicero indeed thought that he would never
make a great soldier. Disraeli spoke of Glad
stone as a young man without a future. Bea
consfield himself was jeered and laughed at
when he made his maiden speech in parlia
ment. "The day will come when you will be
compelled to hear me," he cried to the parlia
ment.
Phillips Brooks at graduation received this
discouraging counsel from his president,
"Brooks, whatever you do, don't try to
preach." His handicap was a stammering
tongue. Demosthenes, the Greek orator, was
tongue-tied. Dwight L. Moody murdered the
king's English; he had to fight his way into
the pulpit. David Livingstone was so timid
and fearful that he broke down in his first
sermon and rushed out of the church. After
wards he braved wild men and wild beasts in
Africa.
John Milton was blind, but De Quincey de
clares that the poet's blindness caused his ear
to become angelic.
Kitto wrote his first book in the parish
work-house. Mozart composed his " Requiem, ' '
with disease invading his body. Sir Walter
Scott wrote the "Bride of Lammermoor," with
a heavy burden of debt weighing him down.
Robert Louis Stevenson, author of "Treasure
Island" and other never-to-be-forgotten books,
battled all his life against disease. Our fine
southern poet, Sidney Lanier, "inheritor of an
unfulfilled renown," faced death for years.
Yet he left a deep impression on the world as
a poet and a musician. He learned to play
the flute better than anyone else of bis time,
taught literature to enthusiastic calsses in the
university, and himself wrote poetry that ap
peals to the soul. His biographer says that he v
"heroically accepted such tools as he had and
left behind a tradition of gallantry as inspir
ing as that of Chevalier Bayard or Sir Philip
Sidney. ' '
It is said that Napoleon was "an undersized, \
sickly boy and man." Talleyrand was born a
cripple. When Richard Wagner was sixty
years old, and had written much of his mu
sic, the nation still refused absolutely to admit
his genius. Think of the handicaps of our great
Lincoln, his log-cabin home in the wilderness,
his slight opportunity for schooling, the few
books to which he had access in early life, even
his gaunt and awkward body. Yet to what a
place of power lie arose!
Even our Lord himself started his great
work for the world under difficulties. Bom
in an obscure village in a manger, he spent
his early years in a town of doubtful reputa
tion. "Can any good thing come out of Naza
reth?" was the taunt that was cast at him.
Yet with pride and wonder to-day men speak
of "Jesus of Nazareth"! His name has been
"not so much written as plowed into the his
tory of the world."
The Apostle Paul was not without his per
sonal limitations. He suffered from a thorn in
the fler,h. Whatever this was, it must have
been something that made his work difficult,
and probably marred his influence. Some crit
ics think that it was a trouble of the eyes that
made his face unsightly, a serious handicap to
one who must preach. Renan calls him "the
ugly little Jew," as if his appearance may
have been forbidding. He himself records the
verdict that was passed upon him that his let
ters were weighty and powerful, but his speech
contemptible. Yet this man became a master
of assemblies.
Present-day examples are not lacking. Think
of Helen Keller, blind, deaf, bereft of the pow
er of speech, yet one of the most cultivated
women of our day. Remember Booker Wash
ington, who came "up from slavery," to be the
leader of the black race in America, and their
second emancipator. Remember Dr. Trudeau,
who fought disease in himself for forty years,
and meantime helped thousands of others to
find the way to recovery at his Adirondack
sanitarium.
God does not intend that victory shall come
to us too easily. Everyone must have his han
dicap. It is nature's way. It is God's plan
of education. None of us can. have everything
entirely his own way. There are limitations
for every life.
Men grow wise and strong by having bat
tles to fight. Civilization has come by men's
realizing their handicaps and beginning to
struggle against them. The trouble with sav
age tribes is that they never battle against
anything. The old ways of their tribe are
good enough to-day. No one invents anything.
No one tries to find an easier way. But the
more enlightened men grow, the more cour
age they have, the more initiative they show.
They invent clocks and watches to overcome
the handicap of not being able to tell the time
of day when the sun is not shining. They
build good roads, and finally invent steam en
gines, and other swift-moving vehicles to over
come the handicap of distance. They equip
themselves with movable type and printing
presses in order to meet the difficulty of re
membering what they have heard, and the
history that has been handed down to them.
No, it is not a misfortune to be called upon
to struggle. Growth often comes by difficulty.
This rule applies to oar personal difficulties