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bag of gold at the end of the rainbow, they are nev er realized. The road that leads ito success is the road of right doing. Stick to it. Pay no attention to its branches. Go straight ahead. Let the world say whait it will, for that road has but one termination, and its termination is success. HIS ATTITUDE TO MAN. We come now to look at His attitude to man. There are three things that characterize it. His sympathy, His helpfulness, His salvation. Jesus was the most sympathetic man that ever walked the earth. See Him at the grave of Laz arus, weeping with the women. See Him ever in contact with the suffering and sorrowing, and the some sympathizing nature characterizes him. Now, if we are Christians, “We are partakers of Him” in this respect. The man who has not a tender heart for the suffering and sorrows of the world is not a Christian. No matter what he may say, and what he may do, the heart that is not in touch with the feelings of the world’s infirmities knows nothing oif Jesus Christ, and so with respect to His helpfulness. Jesus was helpful. He never let an opportunity go by without administering help where help was needed. He did not resort to the old Pagan method of many so-called Associated Charities of today. See Him feeding the five thousand. It was indis criminally done. Our method, or the method of the so-called Associated Charity system, is one of sift ing. We are so afraid we will give to somebody that doesn’t deserve it that we sift everything through a narrow, contracted, cold, Christi ess sieve. Jesus fed indiscriminately, and then taught them the higher truths. 'This was Christ’s method of helpfulness. Os course, civic institutions are ex pected to sift things. They have nothing else to do but to deal with the temporal side of life, but I maintain the method of Jesus Christ was very dif ferent. The city, or even the association of citizens, which denies the name of Christ in its association can afford to say to a poor, old blind man playing his organ on the streets for money, “Stop playing your organ on the streets, and go to a doctor, and have your eyes operated on at our expense, or else you must get out of the city.” I say such institutions, with no claim on Christ, who do not pretend to ad minister their charities in the name of Christ, may afford to say it, but certainly no Christian charity can take that position, and no Christian charity can fellowship or federate or in any other way support such a charity. Christian charity and help fulness can not work the sifting process in that way, and the minute that it begins it, it lays down its power. Christianity has got to love the world in spite of its devilment. It has got to open its hands in helpfulness that it may have an opportun ity to teach Christ, and reveal the better way. But the chief thought concerning His attitude to man is salvation. Thank God, this is what concerns Him most. He could not trust the angels with so important a mission. He had to come Himself. I am reminded just here of a mother who some time ago received a letter from her daughter who had left her many years before and had been liv ing a life of shame. The letter said: “Mother, lam hero in St. Louis in a hospital sick. I cannot live long, and I would love so much to see you. In deed, I would love to die in Mother’s home, but I cannot ask you to let me come. I have been so un worthy.” The old mother, when she received this letter, was very feeble, but it braced her up. She said to her pastor, “I am going tonight to bring her home.” “Oh,” said her pastor, “let me go! "Von are not physically able.” “No,” said she, “I could not trust even my pastor on such a sacred mis sion as that. I myself must go, and bring my daughter home.” This was the way Jesus felt about the poor, guilty sinner. He could not trust any system, nor could He trust any person to redeem us. He must come Himself on this sacred mission. Blessed be His name! Was there ever a sacrifice like it? Now, for one more look at our text: “Take heed, for we are become partakers of Christ.” First, we are partakers of His glory, and then partakers The Golden Age for December 27, 1906. of His nature, His disposition, His attitude. We are partakers of His attitude to God, of His atti tude to the devil, of His attitude to man. Blessed relationship! Full of significance and glorious with opportunity. Let us try to be worthy of the call ing. Broughton Stings and Soars. Because the liquor problem in one city is, in ef fect, the liquor problem everywhere, we give our readers the substance of Dr. L. G. Broughton’s stirring words on the Atlanta situation: “I have never had any other idea but that the mayor would veto the whiskey regulation ordinance, and I am surprised that anybody else ever thought otherwise,” said Dr. Broughton in the prelude to his sermon last Sunday night. “Everybody knows his record on that line. He has never been known, so far as I know, to do any other than cast his lot with the whiskey element of the city. This, no one will deny. When matters have come up that furnished him a chance to favor them he has never failed to do it. I am not sur prised, therefore, at what he did; I would have been surprised if he had done otherwise. “Nor is the mayor the only one that I am not surprised at. I have been watching that council. As sure as you live, they have endeavored to make a scapegoat of the mayor. They knew that he would veto the thing, and that he would be sustained when he did it, and hence they thought to please the temperance sentiment, and still not change the whiskey regulation. “There is no better proof of it than the way some of the council are now turning over on his side. I do not believe that that council had the slightest idea of the thing ever becoming a law when it was passed; and I have a vast deal more respect for the mayor for vetoing it than I have for the man or men who use him as a scapegoat. I know of nothing more damnable than such cowardice. The fact is, the whole of our city administration, with very few exceptions, is owned, hide and hoof, by the whiskey power. Dr. Broughton on Council. “Oh, the puny little babies in that council! I propose an ordinance to furnish the whole council lay-out with milk and sucking bottles. I believe I’ll furnish the bottles if they’ll furnish the milk. I am sure that they would not be more appropriate in a maternity hospital than in that general council of infantile dwarfs. If ever there was a gang of babies that got together and played fool any more than the council has played it about this whis key business, their fool doings are not recorded. Think of it! They have straddled every rail in the whiskey fence; they have taken every side of the question; they have voted wrong, and repented; they have voted right, and repented; they have voted no way, and repented; they have voted every way, and repented. The fact is, they have done everything that was undone, and undone everything that was done. This has been the council of whis key acrobats and rollers. They have turned until they are as round as billiard balls; all that is need ed is for somebody to take the cue and do the tap ping, and they will roll around until they drop in the hole—just any old hole; however, the whis key hole is the one they finally wind up in. Surely, we are disgusted with the wishy-washiness of many in that council. Some Credit is Given. ‘ ‘ There is one thing that they must have credit for, at least until they meet again and adjourn (the good Lord only knows what they will do then). They must have credit for passing the ordinance that brought forth the mayor’s veto. But even then it was passed after they had at the same ses sion turned it down. But they did it, if they did wait until the whiskey members of the council had retired. “Do you wonder if they will run it over the mayor’s veto? Do you want me to tell you? Then listen: No. Certainly not, unless there is a back- Read Page 15 down of the whiskey party, and that, in a last strug gle, is never done. The whiskey gang has already been counted. It was never intended to get any further than the mayor. Some, of course, were hon est, but see now if they stood. “The whiskey men know who is who, and I want to say to you people in Atlanta now, spot every one of that gang that voted to license those two saloons and against the passage of that high license and better regulation ordinance when it first came up, and every one that sustains the veto. They are not worthy of your confidence and support. They are not to be trusted with your moral welfare. Cut their names out, and hold them up to the frown and contempt of the moral forces of our community. They have helped betray the highest moral interest of the people. They have trampled upon the will of their constituency. They have disregarded their trust and forfeited their claim for support. Prohibition Election. “To be sure, high license and better regulation is not all we want. The moral sentiment of the city has never been content with this. We are going to hold a prohibition election in Fulton county, but we resent any giving way to the whiskey power whatever. We all favored the high license and bet *ter regulation ordinance only as a step in the right direction. We want the election. We want a chance to show the gang who is who in this county. Our petitions are now being signed, and, since the failure of this measure, men have been signing them like wildfire. Let ev ery good man in the county who has not signed hunt up a petition at once, and sign it. We must resent the refusal to give us what at least two thirds of our people want. Let all non-whiskey subsidized people hear. Call up the Anti-Saloon League in the Lowndes building and get on the pro hibition petition. Hurrah for the fight! And we’ll sing, ‘On to Victory’ as we go. We are simply tir ed messing over this great question.” Don’t Forget to Write a Letter. By JULIA A. ABBOTT. In the dear old home they miss you, Miss the sunshine of your face, Miss your happy, careless chatter— No one else can fill your place. They are thinking of you often When in distant parts you roam; Don’t forget to write a letter To the dear ones left at home. One can see they’re sad without you, Though they smile and do their best; Half life’s music floated from them When the birdlings left the nest. How they love to get a letter In your own familiar hand! All the comfort it can give them Only parents understand. Do you know that since you’ve left here, Tn your mother’s glossy hair Threads of silver, intertwining, Tell of years of toil and care? Just a bit the lines have deepened On your father’s thoughtful brow; Don’t forget to write—write often— For they miss you sadly now. When they sit around the fireside, And the shadows gather near, Then they think of happy hours When your presence brought them cheer. Come sweet tender memories thronging When the stars shine in the blue; And they breathe their heart’s deep longing In a silent prayer for you. Write a letter to the dear ones Who on you their hopes have stayed. They may have sad thoughts and anxious If your letter is delayed. For they miss you from the fireside— Miss you more than words can say; Then write promptly—don’t neglect it—■ Write a letter home today. 5