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for miracles in the establishment of
the Apostolic Church. They could
have referred to the miracles of Je
sus. The condition that confronted
Jesus and His disciples confronts the
world today. The schools of thought
move largely along the same lines;
there is the hermit school on one side
represented by the great Roman
Catholic Church; and there is the
school of the Essenes, the school of
free-thinkers; and there is the school
of the Pharisees, made up of the peo
ple that fold their robes around them
and refuse to touch a needy world.
The conditions are the same and will
be the same until Jesus Christ
comes and seizes fast hold of the
reigns’ of the world and convinces
the world that He is the Christ. Is
there any need for miracles today?
What is the condition of the Chris
tian Church? See the condition of
the Christian Church; almost a
Samson, shorn; she has no power;
all wound up and tied up with ma
chinery ; wheels within wheels, turn
ing by the strenuous effort of man,
and yet no power. Look at the con
dition of the missionary work of the
world. Take our own missionary
work —$89,000 of debt on our own
board. And it is not only so with
our mission board but with the other
foreign mission boards. There is no
debt upon the Home Mission Board.
People have interest in home mis
sions. Why? Because of their in
tense selfishness. Because that
cause, and noble cause it is, is sound
ed by men that sound a note that ap
peals to the selfish heart of the peo
ple. The Foreign Mission Board,
which is the only work we have in
which there is no direct reciprocal
financial and personal interest, goes
up to the Conventions dragging her
limbs in the dust. This is true all
<over the land.
And our methods —God knows our
methods are all contrary to the Scrip
tures, practically every one. Take our
methods of evangelism. I am so
tired of human machinery. I am
so tired of being confronted with the
seeming necessity of having to em
ploy a half dozen press agents to
boost and boom a revival. I was
talking with a man the other day on
a train, a thinking man, a Christian
man, a liberal man, a man who be
lieves in evangelists and who believes
in the gospel that saves from sin,
lives it and wants us to preach it; he
put his hand on my shoulder and in
a very calm, quiet and subdued tone
said, “Broughton, I am getting sick
and tired of the revivals of the day.
We have no revivals of the Holy
Ghost type, if we are to judge by the
records. Now and then one will
break out and there will be a half
dozen preachers trying to account for
it by some modern psychological or
scientific or humanized process, ev
erything and anything that will dis
count the work of the supernatural.”
Do we need miracles? I see a man
on the street surveying a city lot. It
is for sale. I observe as he proceeds
that he is greatly distressd, and I go
to him and say, “What is the matter?”
and he says, “Something is the mat
ter here.” I ask him why and he
says, “Because the needle doesn’t
point right, it doesn’t point in the
right direction.” “Where does it
point?” I ask. “Why it points
East instead of North, and I can not
make it point right. My conclusion
is that the magnetic pole has come
out of its bed and gone East.” I say
“Let me see; try again,” and he
says, “You see it’s no use; it has
gone East again; the magnetic pole
has changed,” but I say “Stop
man, you have no sense; don’t you
know that thing is fixed?” He says,
“I thought that too, but it does not
work out.” I say, “Instead of think
ing the magnetic pole has changed,
why don’t you work on your instru
ment ?” He says, “Why, this instru
ment is alright; it has never failed
me.” I examine it, and on the needle
is a bit of dust that keeps it from bal
ancing. I clean the needle off, and
the instrument is adjusted and we see
the needle swing around and point
North and South.
If God’s power today is not the
same as in the days of the Apostles,
if there are not miracles being
wrought today for the accomplish
ment of the purpose that a miracle
always stands for, we may know of a
certainty that it isn’t because God has
changed, but because the medium is
changed. And what is the matter?
You know, and I know. The needle
of our faith is rusty. We have failed
to keep it bright. We do not even
get time to pray; our churches have
no more real Holy Ghost prayer meet
ings. Oh, let us get the church
right with God.
THE MASTER OFBERYL HEIGHTS.
(Continued from page 3.)
like anything would satisfy me but a
ride on Wildfoot. Please, mother.”
“My child, I am afraid for you. The
last time you rode her you remember,
I told you—l thought I would never
allow it again.”
“But you did not know,” said the
girl, going up to her and putting her
arm around her, “that this lovely day
would come, and that your Bohemian
daughter would set her heart on a
ride through its breeze and sun
shine.”
Mrs. Gordon regarded her affection
ately. These rare moods of Lynne’s
intoxicated her —as they did every
one else.
(To Be Continued.)
WHAT THE CORN TOLD THE
MAPLE.
Emma Wheaton Keese.
“How proud and haughty you are!”
exclaimed a maple tree to some corn,
just in the vigor and strength of its
days, in a field nearby.
“I proud and haughty?” sang back
the corn by the rustling of its leaves.
“Why do you speak thus? It is in the
country among the laborers I am
found, while your relatives commonly
grace city parks and lawns of out
most magnificent residences. You call
me proud when it is I who furnishes
the bread for the most common class,
and my old friend is the uncivilized
American Indian! What! you had not
thought how my forefathers were
friends of the Indians? Ha! Ha! I
guess you do not remember that I am
today sometimes called “Indian Corn”
as well as the somewhat more aristo
cratic name “Maize.”
“I will confess,” returned the Maple,
“that I had forgotten how your ances
tors were so common as to be so
friendly with the Indian, but still I can
not help feeling that while your an
cient relatives did all of this, you your
self have grown haughty.”
A gentle breeze came dallying along
and the lovely corn bent its head in
thoughtfulness, while its friend Miss
Maple continued. “Perhaps I am
somewhat unfair, but when I look out
over your broad acres and see your
waving leafy pennants, your tassels
like some proud crest and your beau
tiful silks drooping so gracefully, I
can not help envying you. We have
only our leaves, some rather unat
tractive blossoms and seeds, while you
have all these attractive things all
summer long and then when the har
vest days come we poor trees must
think of giving up our dresses, while
you have the countless grains of gol
den corn with which to beautify your
fields and give to man for his share in
caring for you. Do you not feel that
you might easily be proud of these
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