I think this is the lesson we are to learn from these Scripture incidents. The Lord expects us to do what we can. We can all do something. In one of our Southern cities a few Christian people gathered together at the beginning of the war to see what could be done about building a church in a part of the city where the poor were very much neglected. After they had discussed the matter they wanted to see how much could be raised out of the congregation.

One said he would give so much; others said they would give so much.

They only got about half the amount that was needed, and it was thought they would have to abandon the project. Away back in the meeting there sat a washerwoman. She rose and said her little boy had died a week before. All he had was a gold dollar. She said: "It is all I have, but I will give the dollar to the cause." Her words touched the hearts of many of those who heard them. Rich men were ashamed at what they had given. The whole sum was raised within a very short time. I have spoken in that church, and I know it to be a centre of influence in one of our great cities. This poor woman did what she could; perhaps she gave more in proportion than anyone in the city.

When we were in London eight years ago, we wanted the city to be canva.s.sed; we called for volunteers to go and visit the people in their own homes and invite them to come to the meetings. Among those who came forward was an old woman, eighty-five years of age. She said she wanted to do a little more for the Master before she went home.

She took a district and went from house to house, delivering the messages of invitation and the tracts to the people. I suppose she has now gone to her reward, but I shall never forget her. She wanted to do what she could. If every Christian man and woman will do what Mary did, mult.i.tudes will be reached and blessed.

Years ago, when Illinois was but a young State, there were only a few settlers here and there throughout a large portion. One of these was a man who used to spend his Sundays in hunting and fishing. He was a profane and notoriously wicked man. His little girl went to the Sabbath-school at the log school-house. There she was taught the way into the kingdom of G.o.d. When she was converted the teacher tried to tell her how she might be used of G.o.d in doing good to others. She thought she would begin with her father. Others had tried to reach him and had failed to do it, but his own child had more influence with him. It is written, "A little child shall lead them." She got him to promise to go to the meeting. He came to the door, but at first he would not go in. He had gone to the school when he was young, but one day the boys laughed at him because he had a little impediment in his speech. He would not go back, and so he had never learned to read.

However he was at last induced to go to the Sabbath-school. There he heard of Christ, and he was converted to G.o.d. His little child helped him and others helped him, and he soon learned to read. This man has since been called to his reward, but about two years ago when I saw him last, if I remember well, that man had established on the Western prairies between 1,100 and 1,200 Sunday-schools. In addition to all these school-houses, scattered about over the country, churches have sprung up. There are now hundreds of flourishing churches that have grown out of these little mission schools that he planted. He used to have a Sunday-school horse, a "Robert Raikes" horse he called him, on which he traveled up and down the country, going into many outlying districts where nothing was being done for Christ. He used to gather the parents into the log school-houses and tell how his little girl led him to Christ. I have heard a great many orators, but I never heard any who could move an audience as he could. There was no impediment in his speech when he began to speak for Christ; he seemed to have all the eloquence and fire of heaven. That little girl did what she could. She did a good day's work when she led her father to the Savior.

Every one of us may do something. If we are only willing to do what we can, the Lord will condescend to use us; and it will be a great thing to be instruments in His hand that He may do with us what He will.

I remember reading in the papers that when the theatre in Vienna was on fire a few years ago, a man in one of the corridors was hurrying out. Many others of the people were trying to find their way out so as to escape from the fire. It was dark, but this man had a single match in his pocket. He struck it, and by doing so he was able to save twenty lives. He did what he could.

You think you cannot do much. If you are the means of saving one soul, he may be instrumental in saving a hundred more. I remember when we were in England ten years ago, there was a woman in the city where we labored who got stirred up. I do not know but it was this very text that moved her, "She hath done what she could." She had been a nominal Christian for a good many years, but she had not thought that she had any particular mission in the world. I am afraid that is the condition of many professedly Christian men and women. Now she began to look about her to see what she could do. She thought she would try and do something for her fallen sisters in that town. She went out and began to talk kindly to those she met on the street. She hired a house and invited them to come and meet her there.

When we went back to that city about a year or so ago, she had rescued over three hundred of these fallen ones, and had restored them to their parents and homes. She is now corresponding with many of them.

Think of more than three hundred of these sisters reclaimed from sin and death, through the efforts of one woman. She did what she could.

What a grand harvest there will be, and how she will rejoice when she hears the Master say: "Well done, good and faithful servant."

I remember hearing of a man in one of the hospitals who received a bouquet of flowers from the Flower Mission. He looked at the beautiful bouquet and said: "Well, if I had known that a bunch of flowers could do a fellow so much good, I would have sent some myself when I was well." If people only knew how they might cheer some lonely heart and lift up some drooping spirit, or speak some word that shall be lasting in its effects for all coming time, they would be up and about it. If the Gospel is ever to be carried into the lanes and alleys, up to the attics and down into the cellars, we must all of us be about it. As I have said, if each of us will do what we can, a great mult.i.tude will be gathered into the kingdom of G.o.d.

Rev. Dr. Willets, of Philadelphia, in ill.u.s.trating the blessedness of cultivating a liberal spirit, uses this beautiful figure--

"See that little fountain yonder--away yonder in the distant mountain, shining like a thread of silver through the thick copse, and sparkling like a diamond in its healthful activity. It is hurrying on with tinkling feet to bear its tribute to the river. See, it pa.s.ses a stagnant pool, and the pool hails it: 'Whither away, master streamlet?' 'I am going to the river to bear this cup of water G.o.d has given me.' 'Ah, you are very foolish for that: you'll need it before the summer's over. It has been a backward spring, and we shall have a hot summer to pay for it--you will dry up then.' 'Well,' said the streamlet, 'if I am to die so soon, I had better work while the day lasts. If I am likely to lose this treasure from the heat, I had better do good with it while I have it.' So on it went, blessing and rejoicing in its course. The pool smiled complacently at its own superior foresight, and husbanded all its resources, letting not a drop steal away.

Soon the midsummer heat came down, and it fell upon the little stream.

But the trees crowded to its brink, and threw out their sheltering branches over it in the day of adversity, for it brought refreshment and life to them, and the sun peeped through the branches and smiled complacently upon its dimpled face, and seemed to say, 'It's not in my heart to harm you;' and the birds sipped the silver tide, and sung its praises; the flowers breathed their perfume upon its bosom; the husbandman's eye always sparkled with joy, as he looked upon the line of verdant beauty that marked its course through his fields and meadows; and so on it went, blessing and blessed of all!

And where was the prudent pool? Alas! in its glorious inactivity it grew sickly and pestilential. The beasts of the field put their lips to it, but turned away without drinking; the breeze stopped and kissed it by _mistake_, but shrunk chilled away. It caught the malaria in the contact, and carried the ague through the region; the inhabitants caught it and had to move away; and at last, the very frogs cast their venom upon the pool and deserted it, and heaven, in mercy to man, smote it with a hotter breath and dried it up!

But did not the little stream exhaust itself? Oh, no? G.o.d saw to that.

It emptied its full cup into the river, and the river bore it on to the sea, and the sea welcomed it, and the sun smiled upon the sea, and the sea sent up its incense to greet the sun, and the clouds caught in their capacious bosoms the incense from the sea, and the winds, like waiting steeds, caught the chariots of the clouds and bore them away--away to the very mountain that gave the little fountain birth, and there they tipped the br.i.m.m.i.n.g cup, and poured the grateful baptism down; and so G.o.d saw to it that the little fountain, though it gave so fully and so freely, never ran dry. And if G.o.d so blessed the fountain, will He not bless you, my friends, if, as ye have freely received, ye also freely give? Be a.s.sured He will."

A young lady belonging to a wealthy family in our country was sent to a fashionable boarding-school. In the school Christ had a true witness in one of the teachers. She was watching for an opportunity of reaching some of the pupils. When this young lady of wealth and position came, the teacher set her heart upon winning her to Christ.

The first thing she did was to gain her affections. Let me say right here that we shall not do much toward reaching the people until we make them love us. This teacher, having won the heart of her pupil, began to talk to her about Christ, and she soon won her heart for the Savior. Then instead of dropping her as so many do, she began to show her the luxury of working for G.o.d. They worked together, and were successful in winning a good many of the young ladies in the school to Christ. When the pupil got a taste of work, that spoiled the world for her. Let me say to any Christian who is holding on to the world: Get into the Lord's work, and the world will soon leave you. You will not leave it, you will have something better. I pity those Christians who are all the time asking if they have to give up this thing and that thing. You won't be asking that when you get a taste of the Lord's work; you will then have something that the world cannot give you.

When this young lady went back to her home the parents were anxious that she should go out into worldly society. They gave a great many parties, but, to their great amazement, they could not get her interested. She was hungering for something else. She went to the Sabbath-school in connection with the church she attended, and asked the Superintendent to give her a cla.s.s. He said there were really more teachers than he needed.

She tried for weeks to find something to do for Christ. One day as she was walking down the street, she saw a little boy coming out of a shoemaker's shop. The man had a wooden last in his hand, and he was running as fast as he could after the boy. When he found he could not overtake him, he hurled the last at him and hit him in the back. When the shoemaker had picked up his last and gone back to his shop, the boy stopped running and began to cry. The scene touched the heart of this young lady. When she got up to him she stopped and spoke to him kindly.

"Do you go to the Sabbath-school?" "No."

"Do you go to the day-school?" "No."

"What makes you cry?" He thought she was going to make sport of him, so he said it was none of her business. "But I am your friend," she said. He was not in the habit of having a young lady like that speak to him; at first he was afraid of her, but at last she won his confidence. Finally, she asked him to come to the Sabbath-school, and be in her cla.s.s. No, he said, he didn't like study; he would not come.

She said she would not ask him to study; she would tell him beautiful stories and there would be nice singing. At last he promised that he would come. He was to meet her on Sabbath morning, at the corner of a certain street.

She was not sure that he would keep his promise, but she was there at the appointed time, and he was there too. She took him to the school and said to the Superintendent: "Can you give me a place where I can teach this boy?" He had not combed his hair, and he was barefooted.

They did not have any of that kind of children in the school, so the Superintendent looked at him, and said he did not know just where to put him. Finally he put him away in a corner, as far as he could from the others. There this young lady commenced her work--work that the angels would have been glad to do.

He went home and told his mother he thought he had been among the angels. When the mother found he was going to a Protestant school she told him he must not go again. When the father got to know it, he said he would flog him every time he went to the school. However, the boy went again the next Sabbath, and the father flogged him; every time he went he gave the poor boy a flogging. At last he said to his father: "I wish you would flog me before I go, and then I won't be thinking about it all the time I am at the school." You laugh at it, but, dear friends, let us remember that gentleness and love will break down the opposition in the hardest heart. These little diamonds will sparkle in the Savior's crown, if we will but search them out and polish them. We cannot make diamonds, but we can polish them if we will.

Finding that the flogging did not stop the boy from going to the school, the father said: "If you will give up the Sabbath-school, I will give you every Sat.u.r.day afternoon to play, or you can have all you make by peddling." The boy went to his teacher and said: "I have been thinking that if you could meet me on the Sat.u.r.day afternoon we would have longer time together than on the Sabbath." I wonder if there is a wealthy young lady reading this book who would give up her Sat.u.r.day afternoons to teach a poor little boy the way into the kingdom of G.o.d. She said she would gladly do it; if any callers came she was always engaged on Sat.u.r.days. It was not long before the light broke into the darkened mind of the boy, and a change came into his life. She got him some good clothes and took an interest in him; she was a guardian angel to him. One day he was down at the railway station peddling. He was standing on the platform of the carriage, when the engine gave a sudden start; the little fellow was leaning on the edge, and his foot slipped so that he fell down and the train pa.s.sed over his legs. When the doctor came, the first thing he said was: "Doctor, will I live to get home?" "No, my boy, you are dying."

"Will you tell my father and mother that I died a Christian?" Did not the teacher get well paid for her work? She will be no stranger when she goes to the better land. That little boy will be waiting to give her a welcome.

It is a great thing to lead one soul from the darkness of sin into the glorious light of the Gospel. I believe if an angel were to wing his way from earth up to heaven, and were to say that there was one poor, ragged boy, without father or mother, with no one to care for him and teach him the way of life; and if G.o.d were to ask who among them was willing to come down to this earth and live here for fifty years and lead that one to Jesus Christ, every angel in heaven would volunteer to go. Even Gabriel, who stands in the presence of the Almighty, would say: "Let me leave my high and lofty position, and let me have the luxury of leading one soul to Jesus Christ." There is no greater honor than to be the instrument in G.o.d's hand of leading one person out of the kingdom of Satan into the glorious light of heaven.

I have this motto in my Bible, and I commend it to you: "Do all the good you can; to all the people you can; in all the ways you can; and as long as ever you can." If each of us will at once set about some work for G.o.d, and will keep at it 365 days in the year, then a good deal will be accomplished. Let us so live that it may be truthfully said of us: We have done what we could.

CHAPTER VIII.

"WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?"

You have no doubt frequently read the story of the good Samaritan. In this parable Christ brings before us four men. He draws the picture so vividly that the world will never forget it. Too often when we read the Scripture narratives they do not come home to our hearts, and it is not long before we forget the lesson that the Master would have us to learn and to remember.

We find that when Christ was on the earth there was a cla.s.s of people who gathered round Him and were continually finding fault with everything He said and did. We read that on this occasion a lawyer came asking Him what he could do to inherit eternal life. Our Lord told him to keep the commandments--to love the Lord with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself. The lawyer then wanted to know who was his neighbor. In this narrative Christ told him who his neighbor was, and what it was to love him.

It seems to me that we have been a long while in finding out who is our neighbor. I think in the parable of the good Samaritan Christ has taught us very clearly that any man or woman who is in need of our love and our help--whether temporal or spiritual--is our neighbor. If we can render them any service we are to do it in the name of our Master.

Here we have brought before us two men, each of whom pa.s.sed by one who was in great need--one who had fallen among the thieves, who had been stripped, wounded, and left there to die. The first that came down that road from Jerusalem to Jericho was a priest. As he went along the highway he heard a cry of distress, and he looked to see who was the unfortunate man. He could see that the poor sufferer was a Jew; it may be that he had seen him in the temple on the Sabbath day. But then he was not in his own parish now. His work was in the temple, and it was over for the present. He was a professional man, and he had gone through all that was required of him.

He was in a great hurry to get down to Jericho. It may be they were going to open a new synagogue there, and he was to dedicate it. A very important business, and of course he could not stop to help this poor, wounded, fallen man. So he pa.s.sed on. It may be, as he went along, he reasoned with himself somewhat in this way: "I wonder why G.o.d ever permitted sin to enter the world at all. It is very strange that man should be in this fallen state." Or his thoughts may have taken another turn, and he said to himself that when he got down to Jericho he would form a committee to look after these unfortunate brethren. He would give something toward the expenses. Or he would try and get a policeman to go and look after those thieves who had stripped him.

He did not think that all the while this poor wounded man was dying.

Most likely he was now crying for water, and it might be that there was a brook running by, within a few rods of the spot where he lay.

Yet this priest never stopped to give him a drink. All his religion was in his head: it had never reached his heart. The one thought in his mind was duty, duty; and when he had got through that which he considered his duty, he fancied his work was done. G.o.d wants heart service; if we do not give Him that, we can render to Him no service at all.

We read that a Levite next came along the highway where this wounded man was lying in his helplessness. As he pa.s.sed along he also heard the man's cry of distress. He turned aside for a moment to look at the poor fellow, and he could see that he was a son of Abraham--a brother Jew. But he also must hasten on to Jericho. Possibly he had to help in the ceremony of opening the new synagogue. Perhaps there was going to be a convention down there, on "How to reach the ma.s.ses," and he was going to help discuss the point. I have noticed that many men now-a-days will go to a conference and talk for hours on that subject, but they will not themselves lift a hand to reach the ma.s.ses.

The Levite's thoughts probably took another turn, and he said to himself: "I will see if I can't get a bill through the Legislature to prevent those thieves from robbing and wounding people." There are some now who think they can legislate men back to G.o.d--that they can prevent sin by legislation. Like the priest, this Levite never stopped to give the poor fellow a drop of water to quench his thirst; he never attempted to bind up his wounds or to help him in any way. He pa.s.sed along the highway, doubtless, saying to himself, "I pity that poor fellow." There is a good deal of that kind of pity now-a-days; but it comes only from the lips, not from the heart.

The next one to come along that road was a Samaritan. Now it was notorious that in those days a Jew would not speak to a Samaritan; the very presence of the latter was pollution to an orthodox Jew. No Jew ever entered the habitation of the hated Samaritan; he would not eat at his table or drink from his well. Neither would he allow a Samaritan to come under his roof. No religious Jew would even buy from a Samaritan, or sell to him. You know a Jew must have a very poor opinion of a man if he will not do business with him, when there is a prospect of making something out of him.

Not only was this the case, but the Jews considered that the Samaritans had no souls; that when they died they would be annihilated. Their graves would be so deep that not even the sound of Gabriel's trump would wake them on the resurrection morning. He was the only man under heaven who could not become a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and become a member of the Jewish family. Repentance was denied him in this life and the life to come. He might profess the Jewish religion; they would have nothing to do with him. That was the way in which they looked upon these men; yet Christ used the despised Samaritan to teach these bitter Jews the lesson of love to their neighbor.

The Samaritan came that way. It says in the narrative that the priest came down that way "by chance;" but we are not told that the Samaritan came by chance. He represents our Lord and Master. We are told that he came to where the poor wounded man was; he got off the beast on which he was riding and stooped right down there by the side of the sick man. He looked at him and saw that he was a Jew. If he had been like the Jews themselves, he would most likely have said, "Serve you right.

I only wish the thieves had killed you outright. I would not lift a finger to help you, you poor wretched Samaritan." But no! not a word of condemnation or blame did he utter.

Let us learn a lesson from this. Do you think these drunkards need anyone to condemn them? There is no one in the wide world who can condemn them as they condemn themselves. What they need is sympathy--tenderness, gentleness and kindness. This Samaritan did not pull a ma.n.u.script out of his pocket, and begin to read a long sermon to the wounded man. Some people seem to think that all the world needs is a lot of sermons. Why, the people of this land have been almost preached to death. What we want is to preach more sermons with our hands and feet--to carry the Gospel to the people by acts of kindness.

Neither did he read this poor Jew a long lecture, endeavoring to prove that science was better than religion. He did not give him a long address on geology; what could that do for him? What the poor man needed was sympathy and help. So the first thing the good Samaritan did was to pour oil into his wounds. How many wounded men there are in our midst who have need of the oil of pity and sympathy. A good many Christians seem always to carry about with them a bottle of vinegar, which they bring out on all occasions.

The Samaritan might have said to the man: "Why did you not stay at Jerusalem? What business had you to come down this road, any way, giving all this trouble?" So people will sometimes say to a young man who has come to the city and got into trouble: "Why did you ever leave your home and come to this wicked city?" They begin to scold and upbraid. You are never going to reach men and do them good in that way; or by putting yourself on a high platform; you have to come down to them and enter into their sorrows and troubles. See how this Samaritan "came to where he was," and instead of lecturing him, poured the healing oil into his wounds.