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Jesus Christ by our effort. A man says “I am go
ing to take up my cross, ’ ’ and he gets down and
looks like he is going to die when he gets up.
He says I am going to follow Jesus, I know I will
have a hard time at it, but I am going to follow
Him, and he starts out trying, and succeeds for a
while, but afteraw’hile, down he goes. Why is
this? It is because he does not surrender his will
and get under the will of the Master. Jesus wants
to spiritually hypnotize us; then what is God’s will
is our will, and wherever He goes we go, and what
ever He tells us to do, we will do. The things hith
erto that have been our cross, we will find to be
our pleasure.
My brethren I want to get to the place in my
spiritual life where I shall be so under the influence
of Jesus Christ that my service for Him will be a
service involuntarily rendered; so that when Jesus
points out a thing, I will, the moment I see it, do
it.
What then is the secret of a genuine disciple? It
is a
Surrendered Will.
A will given over to and mastered by Jesus Christ.
And when once that thing is done, the whole Chris
tian life becomes a thing without effort, without
struggle, without a cross.
But what is the cross? It is not the piece of
wood on which Jesus died; the cross had its begin
ning in the garden of Eden when man’s will crossed
God’s will. There is the cross, and now Jesus Christ
comes to us and says, “deny yourself, take up your
cross and follow me.” Wliy? Because I am your
Master; when I speak you must obey; but that cross
can not be taken up so long as the will is unsur
rendered. The minute we give Jesus Christ our will
absolutely, there is no cross. Everything from that
moment that Jesus commands is done with delight.
It is no struggle to take up the cross and follow
Jesus when the will is surrendered to Him.
This is a sane Gospel. It is a gospel men will re
spect, for Jesus is either Lord and Master or he is
nothing.
The Children’s Summer Trip.
A STORY FOR LITTLE ONES.
By JUNIUS W. MILLARD.
My dear children:—Once upon a time there were
two—but, I forgot that I was writing a letter, and
started out to write a story instead. Well, I guess
I had just as well go on the way I began. All right,
Ithen. Once upon a time there were two of the dear
est children who took it into their heads that they
would leave their old father for a while and play a
joke on him, and make a trip into the forest and
seek their fortune.
One -was a little boy with fair face and golden
hair, who was called “ Silkenlocks. ” The other was
just the finest and sweetest little girl you ever saw,
and her hair was bobbed, and she had deep blue
eyes, and she was called “Fair Angel.”
Well, when they left they said, “We will put
away our things, so that our father won’t think
about us, and so they gathered up all their toys and
play-things and put them away, and one day they
struck out for the woods, taking along with them
their pet kitten, named “Sugar.”
But no sooner were they gone than their father
began to think about them, and to miss them. At
'the table, when he sat down to his dinner, he saw
/the chairs they used to sit in, and the chairs and
he had many a talk about the children. And one
day the cook placed at his plate his son’s spoon,
with his name engraved on the handle “Silken
locks.” And on the back-porch w’as a great, big
hobby-horse, and every time that father saw it, he
felt like crying, because he missed his son so much.
And he saw a little picture-book belonging to lit
tle Miss “Fair-angel,” and he and the book had a
long talk together about that little lady. And
everywhere he went something about the house
would talk to him either about the little boy or the
little girl, and he did miss them so.
And what about the little folks? Oh well, they
went out into the big woods, and after a while lit
tle Fairangel said to her brother, “Oh, brother, I
am so hungry.” He said, “I don’t know where
The Golden Age for July 12, 1906.
we will find anything to eat. ’ ’ And the little kitten,
Sugar, said:
“Meow, meow, meow, just follow me now.
As I’m a sinner, I’ll find you dinner.”
And they followed Sugar, and sure enough, under
a tree they found a nice hot dinner, with bread
and butter and jam, and peach ice-cream.
After dinner, little Silken-locks said to his sister,
“Oh, sister, we had not thought about where we
will sleep tonight.” But sugar said:
“Meow, meow, meow, follow me now.
I’ll catch a mouse, and find a house.”
No sooner said, than a litte mouse ran across the
road, and Sugar pounced upon it, and caught it.
The mouse begged the kitten to let it alone, and
Sugar said:
“ Meow, meow, meow, listen to me now.
You find a bed, or I’ll kill you dead.”
The little mouse started out and brought them to
the cutest little place under some wheat straw, and
opening the door, led them into her own house.
But Sugar, before going in, stood on her hind legs,
and said:
“Meow, meow, meow, hear me now.
This nest of a mouse must change to a house.”
No sooner said, than the little nest changed into
a fine large house, with a front porch all painted
green, and the wheat straw changed into a great,
big grove of the finest trees you ever saw. And
in the house there was a fine supper waiting, and
two little beds, all made up, and after eating sup
per they went to bed, and slept all night long, and
dreamed about their father.
Next morning when they woke up, where do you
suppose they were? Why, they were at their
grand-father’s in Kentucky and their grandmother
woke them up, and gave them some oat-meal, and
they saw her fix the dairy things, and they helped
her feed the chickens, and Aunt Becky had some
young turkeys. And Uncle Ben took little Silken
llocks with him down to the barn, and out to the
field, and they had the finest time that ever was.
Now, wasn’t it a fine thing they took Sugar along?
Do you know who Sugar was? It was their mother,
for she didn’t w T ant them to get lost, and so she.
went with them, and being a fairy, she changed
herself into a little kitten, so they wouldn’t know
who she was.
And how about the father? Oh, well, he stayed
behind, and tried to get along as best he could, but
he misses his “Sugar” and his Silken-locks and his
Fair-angel very much indeed.
Don’t you think his little children ought to write
to him while they are away? Your Devoted Father.
The Sunny Side of the Street.
There are only two kinds of people in the world
—the people who live in the shadow and gloom and
those who live on the sunny side of the street.
These shadowed ones are sometimes called pessi
mists; sometimes people of melancholy tempera
ment; sometimes they are called disagreeable peo
ple; but, wherevere they go, their characteristic is
this: their shadow always travels on before them.
These disagreeable people travel forward envelop
ed with gloom and hopelessness. One of them was in
the Subway last Wednesday when the tunnel was
full of smoke from a burning fuse. That man will
carry the odor of smoke in his conversation, to ter
rify his friends, for the next ten years.
One man was ungrateful to him, and henceforth
he will represent the whole world as made up of
ungrateful wretches. Having read the new book
on “The Menace of Privilege,” henceforth this man
will represent plutocracy and corporations as hanging
over New York as the day of judgment hung over
Sodom.
These people never bear their own burdens, but
expose all their wounds to others. They are so
busy looking dowm for pitfalls and sharp stones and
thorns on which to step that they do not even know
that there are any stars in the sky.
These folk live on the wrong side of the street.
And yet it is only twenty feet across to the other
sidewalk, where sunshine always lies.—Newell
Dwight Hillis.
CHRISTIA 7V
PA TRIOTISM.
By GEN. CLEMENT A. EVANS,
(Extract from the patriotic speech of Rev. F. J.
McConnell, D. D., at recent Memorial services at
General Grant’s Tomb.)
“In the final approach to complete understand
ing there is certainly a common basis for both North
and South. We should not allow the South to outdo
us in admiration for the bravery of the southern
soldier. The world has never seen greater heroism
than that of the rank and file of the armies of the
Confederacy. Who can read, for example, the story
not only of the campaigns, but of the hardships of
the army of northern Virginia, without being amaz
ed beyond all expression at the story of surpassing
devotion to an ideal? We can agree, too, in paying
tributes of praise to the genius of the southern lead
ers. We should all be proud of Robert E. Lee and
Stonewall Jackson. Os course we reserve the right
to discuss, in a perfectly friendly way, the respect
ive abilities of northern and southern leaders, but
our admiration need not be confined to the leader
ship of the North.
“Once more we all join in undying respect for
the devotion of the entire southern people to a cause
as sacred as life itself to them. We do not speak
of the southern people as traitors or as sinners.
We recognize the absolute sincerity of the belief
of the mass of the people in their cause. The belief
in their cause had come to them out of the past
centuries. Who of us dare to say that if he had
been born south of Mason and Dixon’s line, of
southern ancestry, he would not have been a defend
er of slavery and an upholder of secession. Espe
cially do we find words failing us when we think of
the sacrifices which the southern women cheerfully
accepted for their cause. We have read how the
women of Carthage, in the long ago, consented to
give the hair of their heads to be made into bow
strings. It is said on good authority that the pro
posal was once made that the women of the confed
eracy sell their hair for the benefit of the southern
armies and if the proposition had been seriously
urged the women of the South would not have
shrunk from precisely the same sacrifice for which
we remember the women of Carthage.
“Someone asks, ‘But what about the confederate
flag?’ My answer is at hand: ‘Let the confeder
ate flag not be put out of sight or memory of Amer
ican citizens.’ It does not stand today for a sec
ond republic, but it should stand as a beautiful
symbol of complete devotion to an honest conviction.
Too many glorious associations cling to it to allow
us to put it away. If it is not treason for the Eng
lish-born American citizen to display the English
flag beside the Stars and Stripes, it ought not be
unworthy for the southern veteran to cherish the
flag which he followed for four years of glorious
battle, along with that other flag to which he now
gives his hearty and patriotic allegiance.”
Benj. H. Hill’s Tribute to Gen. Robert
E. Lee.
“When the future historian shall come to survey
the character of Lee he will find it rising like a huge
mountain above the undulating plain of humanity,
and he must lift his eyes toward Heaven to catch
its summit. He was a foe without hate, a friend
without treachery, a soldier without cruelty, a victor
without oppression, a victim without murmuring.
He was a public officer without vices, a
izen without wrong, a neighbor without reproach, a
Christian without hypocricy, and a man without
guile. He was a Caesar without his ambition, Fred
erick without his tyranny, Napoleon without his
selfishness, and Washington without his reward.
He was obedient to authority as a servant, and royal
in authority as a true king. He was as gentle as
a woman in life, modest and pure as a virgin in
thought, watchful as a Roman vestal in duty, sub
missive to law as Socrates and grand in battle as
Achilles.”—From Page 439, Vol. 1, Messages and
Papers of the Confederacy.
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