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The Golden Age for May Bth, 1913
SHE BUILDED BETTER THAN SHE KNEW
TO MY MOTHER—BY J. W. EVANS.
Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings
of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto
a wise man, which built his house upon a
rock.
And the rain descended, and the floods came j
and the winds blew, and beat upon that house;
and it fell not; for it was founded upon a
rock.
And every one that heareth these sayings
of mine, and doeth them not, shall be liken
ed unto a foolish man, which built his house
upon the sand:
And the rain descended, and the floods came,
and the winds blew, and beat upon that house;
and it fell, and great was the fall of it. —Matt.
V11:24-27.
Come with me, let’s take a trip in modern
times down to the coasts of Galilee! Yon stands
a beautiful mansion in all the splendor and
granduer of modern architecture. The large
columns, the massive windows, the wide porch
and the perfectly sloping roof appeal to us
and as we stand and gaze on it in admiration
we see a palatial home for many years to come.
But look beyond; there is another one, an ex
act duplicate of the first. Verily old Galilee
has come to her own and will soon be a grand
residential section. Hark! What is that? The
sound of thunder and the rushing of a mighty
wind. Let us hasten back for a terrific storm
approaches. The night is dark and the storm
rages far into the morning hours, but the morn
ing dawns with a clear sky and a perfect calm
rests over all the surroundisg country. Let
us walk again down to the shore and meditate
on the beauties and granduer of modern archi
tecture. Look! What is this? Where once
stood a stately mansion there is scattered a mass
of ruins, shattered columns, broken windows,
twisted roof and timbers snapped like twigs.
Oh, the fury of that storm! We gaze beyond
with fearful hearts; but no, the other mansion
stands unmoved as though the storm had not
been. As we stand and look upon the destruc
tion on one hand and the towering edifice
on the other, we see a man approaching and
as he draws nearer we observe from a roll of
blue prints he carries that he is a builder. We
stop him and inquire:
“Did not the storm reach this house which
stands?” and he replies: “0, yes! the storm
with all its fury beat upon that house, but
it fell not.”
“But why,” we ask, “did the one fall and
the other stand?”
“Oh!” he replies, “the one was builded by
a foolish man who did not dig down and put
in a good foundation, but merely leveled off a
place in the sand and built thereon, whereas
the other was builded by a wise man who
digged deep down to the rock and then put
in a concrete foundtaion on which he builded
his house and though the rain descends, the
floods come and the winds blow, it will not
fall, for it is founded on a rock.”
Yon stand two young men just graduating
from college and as they receive their diplo
mas our hearts swell with pride on their en
try into the world. Let’s follow them through
life for a few years. On Sunday morning there
walks Harry down the aisle of the church and
takes his seat. Yes, and yonder is Paul just
to the left of the center aisle about two seats
behind him. Both give attentive ear to every
song, every prayer and every word from the
lips of the pastor. A few months roll on. Harry
is in his accustomed place, but Paul must be
a little late this morning. Ah! there he comes
now and takes a seat at the back of the church.
And still a little later on. Harry has fin
ished teaching his little Sunday School class
and with a radiant smile and happy heart takes
his accustomed place. The songs are sung, the
text is read, the prayers are offered and the pas
tor begins his sermon. But where is Paul? He
is not at church today.
We are interested in these two boys. Let’s
go look him up. As we go we pass Harry's
home and decide to drop in on him for a mo
ment. We step back in the shadow as the door
opens. Supper is over and we see Harry with
his arm around the shoulder of the dear old
mother as he kisses her good-bye for he must
return to the office to finish up some work.
We hear the dear old mother as she says:
“Will you be home early, Harry, for father
and I will wait family prayers for you if you
will.” “I’ll be here promptly at 9 o’clock,
mother,” we hear as he kisses her again and
is gone.
We pass on to find Paul. At the door we
are met by a servant and invited into the par
lor. “Mrs. Abbott will be in shortly, she is
out at Mrs. Chester’s Bridge Party and never
does get in until late from a card party. Yes,
Mr. Abbott will be here in a few minutes. He
just ’phoned from the club that he met a few
friends and had stopped by to get a drink
or two before coming to supper. Paul? No,
he is not at home. Sometimes he comes to sup
per, but most of the time he takes supper down
town and doesn’t get in until midnight and of
ten doesn’t come in at all.”
We excuse ourselves and ask that our cards
be presented and say we will call at a more
convenient time.
’Tis Sunday morning and as the opening
song is sung, we see two beautiful girls walk
down the aisle. Why, it’s Alice and Mabel just
returned from the Seminary. How beautiful
they look. They have graduated in all the
branches and both are proficient in music and
even this morning their trained voices can be
distinguished among all that congregation. Time
goes on and Alice has joined the choir, but
Mabel does not feel well and can’t get out to
church often. Her social duties are heavy and
Sunday morning is about the only time she
has to sleep.
And still a few more months roll by. We
pick up the paper and our eye falls on the so
ciety page and there is nearly a column article
giving a glowing account of Miss Mabel Man
ning’s Bridge Party. How handsomely the
host and guests are dressed and what a swell
affair it must have been for the paper gives
a list of the costly prizes and says that cham
pagne and wines were served to the guests by
four of Miss Manning’s little dancing class.
But who are all these guests? Are they stran
gers in the city? Why, bless you no. Most
of them are members of our cwn church. Read
the list for yourself.
A little further down in the lower left hand
corner we see another little item of interest.
Miss Alice Standard has given the little girls
of Harry Martin’s class a reception at her
parents’ home and each little girl is presented
with a Bible with her name stamped on the
Morocco cover in gold. Why, here is a list of
those present. Read it. Why, you know ev
ery one of them.
’Tis Wednesday night. The pastor has been
called from the city and Harry Martin has
consented to lead the prayer meeting. My,
what a beautiful prayer. And as Alice Stand
dard leads the singing, the gates of Heaven
seem to open and Almighty God seems to lay
his gentle touch on us all and lift us up to
the realms above. Just listen to Harry as he
explains the word of God. Every heart throbs
with joy and praise as the words fall from his
lips swelling up out of a heart full of the love
of God. We do not want to leave the house
of God. Oh! it is good to be here and we feel
the joy and peace which only the heart can'
know when touched by the words from ond
whose life and heart have been trained in a
Christian home and one who is consecrated to
God.
Next morning we are startled by a bold
headline on the front page of the morning
paper. Oh, God! Can it be true? A terri
ble murder has been committed. Paul Abbott
has been cut and shot to death in a drunken
row in a gambling den which has been oper
ating unknown to the authorities. Several
other boys were slightly wounded, but the
soul of Paul has been hurled into the presence
of Almighty God from a drunken body as he
gripped his cards in one hand and a half
empty whiskey bottle in the other. Our hearts
sink within us and we almost drop the paper.
But wait! What is this? “At a private dance
given by Mrs. S. Z. Manning, her beautiful
daughter, Mabel, was seriously stabbed in the
right cheek, the gash extending down close
to the jugular vein in an effort to ward off
a deathly blow of an open knife aimed at the
heart of her escort by a drunken intruder.
Her recovery is doubtful.”
Oh, God! Can it be? Surely there must
be some mistake. This boy and girl had en
tered life about the same time, both equipped
with accomplishments attained by but few and
now to have this sad news of a double tragedy
thrust on us, our hearts ache and we cry in
anguish to Almighty God.
Brother, sister, is there anything on God’s
earth nearer or dearer to you than the sweet
little babe God has giyen to you? Oh, how
you have spent sleepless nights and days of toil
for them in their babyhood and childhood.
Oh! how anxiously and yet proudly you have
watched them grow into young manhood and
young womanhood.
But, brother, sister, what kind of a founda
tion are you laying for the lives they are
building? Are you merely clearing away a
place in the sand or are you digging down
to the rock and laying a concrete foundation?
As sure as you and I live today, the rains will
descend, the floods will come and the winds will
blow on the lives of our children, those we love
dearer than life itself, and unles we have been
Continued on page 11.)
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