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so, looking into its mother’s face, it had to die
for lack of food.”
11 How terrible, ’ ’ she said, ‘‘ to imagine a mother
holding in her arms a hungry, starving child, not
old enough to understand why the supply was ex
hausted, looking pleadingly into the mother’s face
and crying for food and nothing could be given. I
looked at this mother and observed her conduct
without letting her know of my presence. I saw that
she was absorbed in some deep, anxious thought.
She had her hands clutched together and her face
half turned to the sky. When I made myself known
to her, she said, ‘ Oh, you are one of the Jesus
women, aren’t you?’ And I said, ‘Yes, that is my
business.’ Then, without waiting to give me an op
portunity to say a word, she said, ‘Oh, please tell
me how I may find Jesus!’ ”
How many of us have gone through life not know
ing Jesus? Many of us have received him as Savior
who have never known him as a friend and com
forter.
Time and Talents.
Again, have we done what we could with our
time and talents?
Rev. G. Campbell Morgan tells this story: “Some
years ago, at home, a woman came to me at the
close of the Sunday morning service, and said:
‘Oh, I would give anything to be in this work ac
tively and actually. I would give anything to have
some living part in the work that is going on here
next week in winning men and women to Christ, but
I do not know what to do.’ I said, ‘My sister, are
you prepared to give the Master the five loaves and
two fishes you possess?’ She said, ‘I do not know
that I have five loaves and two fishes.’ I said, ‘Have
you anything you have used in any way specially?’
‘No, she did not think she had.’ ‘Well,’ I said,
‘Can you sing?’ Her reply was, “Yes, I sing at
home, and I have sung before now in an entertain
ment.’ ‘Well, now,’ I said, ‘let us put our hand
on that. Will you give the Lord your voice for
the next ten days?’ She said ,‘I will.’ I shall never
forget that Sunday evening. I asked her to sing,
and she sang. She sang the Gospel message with
the voice he had, feeling that it was a poor, worth
less thing, and that night there came out of that
meeting into the inquiry room one man. That man
said to me afterwards that it was the Gospel
sung that reached his heart; and from that day to
this—that is now eleven or twelve years ago—
that man has been one of the mightiest workers for
God in that city and country I have ever known.
How was it done? A woman gave the Master what
she had.”
Are we willing to give the Master what we have?
Ts so, there will be a harvest of glorious surprises
in the immediate future. There is not a talentless
man or woman in all the world.
It is said that once when Sir Michael Costa was
conducting a rehearsal, with a vast array of per
formers and hundreds of voices, as the mighty cho
rus rang out with thunder of the organ and roll of
drums and ringing of horns and cymbals clashing,
some one man who played the piccolo far away up
in some corner, said within himself, “In all this
din it matters not what I do,” and so he ceased to
play. Suddenly the great conductor stopped, flung
up his hands, and all was still—and then he cried
aloud, “Where is the piccolo?” The quick ear miss
ed it, and all was spoiled because it failed to take
its part.
0, soul, do thy part with thy might! Little thou
mayest be, insignificant and hidden, and yet God
seeks thy praise. He listens for it, and all the music
of his great universe is made richer and sweeter
because thou givest him -thy best.
A man’s house should be on the hilltop of cheer
fulness, so high that no shadows rest upon it, and
where the morning comes so early that the day has
twice as many golden hours as those of other men.
He is to be pitied whose house is in some valley
of grief between the hills, with the longest night
and the shortest day. Home should be the centre
of joy, equatorial and tropical.—H. W. Beecher.
The Golden Age for April 12, 190(j.
My Whispering Conscience on Seeing
the Play ‘‘Ben Hur.”
By Mrs. J. F. Miller.
During the closing days of February, acccompa
nied by a young lady friend, I went over to Nash
ville to see “Ben Hur.”
Having years ago read and admired this master
ful production of a great writer, I saw no harm in
seeing it dramatized.
On reaching the city we visited rel
atives from whose home we attended the play. Our
kindred host, and hostess, were members of the Mis
sion Baptist Church, as were also their theatre
going guests. The writer, president of a mission
ary society, and her young lady friend, secretary
of same.
As the shades were drawn, the lamp lighted, and
the daily papers on the reading table ready for the
evening’s entertainment at home, the following con
versation took place between the writer and her
hostess:
“Well, Cousin 11, I’m delighted to see you once
more around my fireside, it has been over a year
since you called to see us, during a return trip from
the Tennessee mountains. But—and she spoke with
firmness—-“I must confess my great surprise that
you are here for the purpose of seeing ‘Ben Hur.’ ”
A moment’s pause, then followed my weak defense.
“You see dear A., my young friend, who accom
panied me, has been confined at home all winter,
from ill health. She was anxious to come, and
kindly gave me a ticket.
It is a religious play, with a spiritual tendency,
and under the circumstances I see no harm in go
ing. ’ ’
“From your viewpoint, this may seem true, but
think of the numberless actors in a play like this,
many of whom are gleaned from the lowest depths
of humanity, and through them the sacredness of
the Bible lowered to the plane of sordid commer
cialism.”
During the conversation I noticed her little six
year-old daughter listened intently, and finally re
marked, “Mother goes to church and Sunday
School, and takes me with her, little brother goes
too, but he is so little he can’t understand what Dr.
Lofton says.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the an
nouncement. of supper.
An hour later we donned our hats and wraps,
and started to the Vendome. From early child
hood I had loved and admired my hostess, as one of
the most consistent Christians I had ever known.
She accompanied us to the front door, and going
down the long hall leading out, she held my hand,
but as she loosed her affectionate grasp, closed the
front door, and went back to her room, leaving us
on the street going to a theatre, something seemed
to whisper, “For the first time in your lives of
congenial companionship, a dividing line this night,
has been painfully drawn.”
It haunted me. I tried to think of something
else.
The prelude, illustrating the star of Bethlehem,
as it rose, and stood over Jerusalem, was beautiful,
and recalled “In the morning arise and go and
meet them. And when ye have come to the hdly
city Jerusalem, ask the people where is He that is
born King of the Jews?
“We have seen His star in the East, and are
come to worship Him.”
The curtain went down, and conscience said, “Too
holy for human hands to imitate.”
The story presented in six acts, the sixth, and
last, being Mount Olivet. “Now however, about the
commencement of the fourth hour, a great crowd
appeared over the crest of Olivet, and as it defiled
down the road, thousands in number, the watchers
noticed with wonder, that every one in it carried
a palm branch freshly cut.”
In conclusion the grand chorus sang “Hosanna!
Hosanna! Hosanna to God in the Highest!” The
lights went out, and tender hearted conscience
again held sway, and thus she spoke: “Away off
yonder in the Tennessee mountains don’t you re
member the lonely cabin on the mountain side,
’neath whose poverty-stricken roof you visited a
moonshiner’s widow, and five fatherless children?
You saw the empty jugs, and the abandoned still in
the lonely ravine, and heard the story of the cap
ture. You read the letter from the State prison
physician, saying that Bob Raymond, would soon
die, and begged to see his wife, and little ones,
once more, but she had no money to buy a railroad
ticket. And when he died, you stole silently away
from a giddy throng at a summer resort, and went
to that humble home to offer sympathy, and on the
same occasion did you not promise to do all in your
power to help that poor widow keep the wolf from
her door?”
Have you been true to your promise?
Two dollars for a theatre ticket, would have sat
isfied hunger in that mountain home. The appeal
was strong, and I listened, and in listening I
thought, “Too often we allow Satan to run rough
shod over our good intentions.”
The Viewpoint.
The winds did dash upon my roof
On yesterday with mighty roar,
And rain in torrents from the clouds
Did fall and beat against my door.
To-day the stormy clouds are gone—
No winds, no rain; but in their place
Pure zephyrs float thro’ a calm, blue sky,
And sunshine has its day of grace.
The fiends did beat upon my life
On yesterday, with might and main,
And doubt, despair and sorrows deep
Did pierce my troubled heart with pain.
To-day those brooding cares are gone—
No sighs, no groans; but in their place
The voice of hope and love and peace
Sings on, and joy lights up my face.
The world on yesterday I saw,
Was it the same I saw to-day?
The storm and strife of yesterday
To-day did seem but sportive play.
I looked through glasses smoked and stained—
Alas! how could the world seem bright?
To-day through a crystal lens I gaze
And look upon the world aright.
—J. Claude Upshaw.
Old Geronimo, the Apache warrior and scout, has
made a contract to join a “wild west” show with
a Canton, Ohio, showman. The permission was ob
tained from the war department. Geronimo is a
prisoner of war on the Fort Sill military reserva
tion.
The house committee on Indian affairs decided to
report favorably on the Stephens joint resolution,
providing for the allotment of 160 acres of land
to each child of members born of the Kiowa, Com
anche or Apache Indian tribes and entitled to allot
ment under the act opening the reservation of the
tribes. This resolution is to cure defects in the
Stephens bill for the sale of these lands, which
lias passed both houses and which the president
has not signed, because the Indian children were
not provided for.
The Spanish authorities have discovered an an
archist’s plot at Lebriji, 20 miles from Seville, the
notorious center of the black hands to assassinate
the royal family during the visit of King Alfonso,
the dowager queen and the sister of the king, the
Infanta Maria Teresa, to Seville during Holy Week.
The censorship prevented the sending of details
regarding the conspiracy.
Madrid newspapers state that the government has
received 12,000 applications from persons seeking
employment or military service in the Philippines
as the result of the reports which were printed re
cently to the effect that public sentiment in the
United States favored returning the archipelago
to Spain.
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