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A 'Beautiful Truth—A Nelv Heart
By C. H. Maxson.
11 A. new heart will I give y0u....”
y . HERE is a marvellous power in the
consciousness of ownership. We desire
jgy to have things for our very own. More
rfW over, we have no small desire to have
mF the first use of the article (coveted.
There is a peculiar charm in the new
vr ness and completeness of the things we
q own. We remember with what delight
- we hailed the possession of our first pair
of new boots! There was a mighty something in
the shining copper toes that changed the child into
a boy and gave to the boy a misty vision of coming
manhood! And when the boy became the owner
of a new “BARLOW” knife, he was transformed
straightway into a master mechanic and began at
once the manufacture of machinery, the construction
of railroads, and the building of bridges.
The passion for possession and the desire for the
new and the best —these are strong passions and
proper ones. The supreme question is: What new
possession is most desirable? What new thing above
all others is most worth having for our own? If we
could stop the busy, hurrying, crowding, striving,
fighting, throngs of men, and ask them one by one:
“What new thing would you like most to possess?
What new thing seems most desirable to you?”
we should get a medley of answers.; and out of the
confusion, we should hear the winebibber crying out
for new wineskins filled with new wine that it may
ripen and mellow against the time when the old shall
be exhausted; the voice of the rich fool is for new
barns and greater; the excuse maker prays for an
other new yoke of oxen or a new farm, that he may
prove them; lust calls for new pleasures; ambition
for new worlds to conquer; pride asks for new
honors; cruelty and selfishness seek for new victims.
But among the captains of the host —the honor
able, the great, the mighty in valor, Naainan may
still be found —with all his power —yet a leper. Ask
him, “Naaman, what new distinction, what new
honors do you desire?” and he would answer, “If
you know a prophet that can heal, make ready my
chariots, with presents of silver and gold and rai
ment, that I may have the flesh again of a little
child —new flesh —that I may be clean.”
Out upon the Jericho road, crowded to the outer
most limits of the wayside, and scorned by the
heartless multitude, Bartimeus, the beggar, still lifts
his voice in a wailing cry, “0, sir, if you have
power, have mercy on me! Give me sight! Give me
new eyes, that I may behold the glory of the heavens
and the beauty of earth; that I may look upon the
faces of men; that I may walk in the way and not
stumble! ”
At the corners of the streets the impotent man
still asks an alms. What possession, think you, he
"The Limit of the Line. ”
(Continued from Page 6.)
way, avoids a direct denial. But that girl is gritty.
She is a brick. 'Such a daring thing, by Jove. That
lonely, swampy, country road, at midnight, would
be peopled with horrors for most girls. Heavens!
How I should have liked to have seen her, the light
in her brilliant Southern eyes, and the grasp of
her hand on Brunhilde’s bridle rein. And yet,” as
he sank down in an easy chair, ‘ ‘ what a debt of
obligations she has put me under. How can I ever
pay it? Neither checks or thanks would be accept
able. So I must devise some high-toned way, to
repay her, later. ’ ’
He rung the silver call-bell on his desk for
Manson..
“Manson,” when the ex-sergeant appeared,
“bring the White steamer around to the front gate.
I wish to go to Henry Brown’s office.
Manson produced a gray overcoat with a sable
collar, a pair of heavy kid gloves, a soft gray felt
hat, from a concealed closet, all of which he strung
over a chair. Then with a speedy salute, he whirled
and left the room.
“How good the top of the earth seems,” F : :
desires above all other’s? Do you hear his prayer?
“0 give me strength—new strength in my feet and
ankle bones, that I may rise and walk and leap, and
praise God with my fellows.”
Here in the Sabbath congregation is found today,
as in the past, the palsied arm. What cares this
man for the Scribes and Pharisees—hypocrites quib
bling over creeds? One thing he needs, and out of
his lieart he cries, “Only give new virtue to the
withered flesh of my hand, that I may stretch forth
my arm against in strength; that I may drive the
hammer and plane, the saw and the plow; that I
may take hold upon labor and earn my bread.”
Today we are one with the multitudes on the
banks of the Jordan, by the shores of Galilee, on
the hillsides of Judea, in the streets of Jerusalem,
at the place Golgotha. There are fathers among us
with hearts breaking because of demoniac sons.
There are mothers grieving their lives out over
doughters held fast in the bindings of sin. Mary
and Martha still weep at the new made grave of a
brother. The widow bows in dumb agony above the
bier of an only son. The centuries fade away and
they are nighbors or ours —these multitudes —prais-
ing, imploring, cursing, betraying’ and crucifying
Christ now. We have only to open our eyes to
see the multitudes —avaricious, cruel, selfish, crimi
nal as of yore; or earnest, kind, true, and brave;
toiling, ambitious, at ease; rich and poor meeting
together; the palace of the epicure side by side with
the huts of the starving; the maimed, the palsied,
the blind —a restless, suffering, hoping, despairing
throng, “spending our money for that which is not
bread; our labor for that which satisfieth not.”
The one thing needed above all others is not new
houses, nor factories, nor lands; nor physical health
—new arms, new feet, new eyes! These are not the
one priceless possession! An untarnished character,
a righteous life, a new heart, —yes, a new heart! —
untainted by the sin and wickedness of the world;
a heart emptied of the pride of life and the lust of
the flesh; a heart filled with the Peace of God that
passeth understanding; a heart made new by the
redeeming blood of Jesus Christ —such a heart is
desirable above all possessions! Such a heart is
indeed the Hidden Treasure —the one Pearl of Great
Price! But there is no market where it may be
purchased and no merchandise that may be offered
in exchange for it. It is God’s free gift to whoso
ever hungers and thirsts after righteousness. He
who accepts it is infinitely rich though his body
suffers hunger and thirst and pain.
As we take our place with the multitudes, may we
be of the number whose desire is voiced in David’s
prayer, “Create in me a clean heart, 0 God, and re
new a right spirit within me,” and the voice of
Infinite Love shall answer, “A new heart also will
I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you.”
(§§§ SS3
said, as the steamer ran swiftly down the silent
residence street, through the March sunshine. “It’s
a glorious thing, old boy, just to be able to whiff
the sweet perfume of spring. Just to be alive,
Manson, hero of San Juan, just to be alive, a
glorious thing!”
“To some folks,” Manson answered in a non
committal tone, “I reckon it is, sir.”
Gregory grinned broadly.
“I say, old chap, don’t you belong to the blissful
number?”
“ ’Casionally,” Manson returned, as he slowed
the White down to a full stop, “as little Miss Nell
says, sir, 4 ’casionally.’ ”
Ford breathed hard as he climbed the narrow
stairs.
“I am mortal tired,” he confessed. “Give the
specialist the ball. Dr. Bloxham. ” Then he
rammed his fist into the editorial door with a
resounding crash. “I say, how is harmony? How is
circle psychology? Haul her out in the sunlight,
Brother Brown. That London Teacher of yours is
a fake. He stung you for a dollar. Open! open!
1 am the Marquis of Hirobumi. Do you want me
!•> knock holes in the sanctum sanctorum?”
i itnry Brown rescued his door from destruction.
The Golden Age for April 1, 1909.
“Os all the fuss for a sick man to make, you
are the limit.” He put both hands on Ford’s
shoulders. “But I am glad, delighted, amazed to
see you. Any soul that boards my box of poverty
gets a rich welcome. Have a seat on the House of
Lancaster sofa, will you? Those springs have been
weak since your last call. Don’t play, if you can
help it, a Coney Island hobby horse on ’em again.”
Ford’s blue eyes sparkled.
“Horace Greely’s chair for me,” he said. “I
came to talk business. I am goiug to buy you a
press AS BIG AS A GARAGE. It will turn off
50,000 papers an hour. I want you to scare Water
Oaks so bad, the inhabitants thereof will not sleep
for a week. I wish you to jar the ‘System.’ I
wish you to give your friend Penury such a kick,
that you will land hei’ in the river.”
“Wait! wait!” gasped Henry Brown.
‘‘ No "wait about it, ’ ’ yelled Ford. 4 ‘ I am going
to have my name stuck on your door in gilt letters
a foot long before dark. I am in a hurry. Bawl
out the window for that Son of Ease, Manson, will
you? I am going to have a telephone, do you
understand. Two of ’em, four of ’em, if you need
’em. I wish you to have 3,000,000 subscribers!
Tie your ambition to the tail of a comet and ride
into financial glory. Did it ever occur to you, that
you have just one chance to make good? I wish
you to attach a stick of dynamite to your head
every morning, Henry, light a large match, and see
if your mentality can’t move like lightning. I’ll
attend to the poise. As associate editor, that will
be my part of the game.”
I (To be continued.)
I Lobe You.
Vy T. H. Toss.
I love you, and the little arms
Around my neck are softly stealing,
And wistful eyes with all their charms
Are lifted up to mine appealing,
And velvet cheeks to mine are pressed—
Sure to be ever thus caressed
Elysium one would ask for never.
I love you, and across my face
Soft fingers pass (where time is sealing
The stamp of years) as if to trace,
And smooth it out by touch and feeling;
While two sweet lips are pressed to mine,
They set my heartstrings all a-ringing—
Sure, child-love mus the near divine,
Such comfort to my soul ’tis bringing.
I love you, and upon my breast
Above my heart, her heart is beating
And baby darling takes her rest,
While sunny summer hours are fleeting,
My heart goes out to God above,
While gazing on her dainty form,
That he has given baby-love
To be 'a comfort in life’s storm.
—Methodist Recorder.
n *
Soloing To the Flesh.
Are you sowing to the flesh, 0 youth ?
Have you turned your back upon the truth ?
Are you scattering seeds of evil
From the garner of the devil?
Are you thinking of the harvest
By and by?
Soon will spring and summer pass,
Brown and sere will grow’ the grass;
No time then for good seed-sowing:
You and I
Must gather what we’ve sown, forsooth,
Are you sowing to the flesh, 0 youth?
Are you sowing to the flesh, O maid ?
Can you think of the harvest unafraid ?
Is this world your only treasure?
This life all your joy and pleasure ?
Are you laying up no portion
In the sky?
He that soweth to the wind
Shall a whirlwind’s harvest find,
And he’ll see himself a pauper
(By and by.
We must reap of what we sow, it is said:
Are you sowing to the flesh, O maid?
—•Elizabeth Rosser.
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