SELECTED BY CHANCELLOR J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

[June 7.]

Courtesy is, strictly speaking, a Christian grace.… It is the offspring of charity; and since it derives its being from divine grace; since it is made the subject of divine command; since it is especially calculated to smooth those little asperities which sometimes hinder even “the living stones of the temple” from being so perfectly joined and so fitly framed together as they should be; since it powerfully tends, likewise, to remove the prejudices and to allay the enmity so generally entertained by the world toward the church; above all, since, in combination with other causes it may contribute to win souls to God, we surely ought not to deem it unsuitable, but to make it … the subject of our particular and attentive consideration.… While some professed disciples of Christ seem to have substituted in the place of genuine courtesy a conformity to the manners and habits of ungodly men, which very ill consists with that simplicity of character which should distinguish the remnant of true Israelites, there are others who, through an honest disgust toward the impertinent fopperies of the world, and an ill-directed fear of becoming infected with the same spirit of guile and hypocrisies, have even run so far into the opposite extreme of churlishness as to be culpably negligent of the mere forms of civilized society.

The courtesy of the world is an imposing form.… But the courtesy of a Christian is not a mere form. It is not the phantasm of a feeling which has no real existence. It is the outward expression of an inward disposition, the conduct which a benevolent mind will on all occasions instinctively prescribe. It is the natural and unconstrained operation of unfeigned love. Let us but love our neighbor as ourselves, and it will be morally impossible to violate the laws of courtesy; for love worketh no ill to his neighbor. It will teach us cautiously to avoid whatever might unnecessarily wound his feelings; it will dispose us assiduously to study his inclination, ease, and convenience; it will make us anxious to interpret his very looks, that we may even anticipate his requests; it will enable us cheerfully to make a sacrifice of our own gratifications with a view to his. All this is perfectly easy; it is even delightful where love exists without dissimulation; but let this heavenly principle be wanting, take away from the form of courtesy the power, and it becomes an arduous and irksome task, a yoke grievous to be borne.—Summerfield.[1]

[June 14.]

I would not slight this wondrous world. I love its day and night. Its flowers and its fruits are dear to me. I would not willfully lose sight of a departing cloud. Every year opens new beauty in a star; or in a purple gentian fringed with loveliness. The laws, too, of matter seem more wonderful the more I study them in the whirling eddies of the dust, in the curious shells of former life buried by thousands in a grain of chalk, or in the shining diagrams of light above my head. Even the ugly becomes beautiful when truly seen. I see the jewel in the bunchy toad. The more I live, the more I love this lovely world; feel more its Author in each little thing; in all that is great. But yet I feel my immortality the more. In childhood the consciousness of immortal life buds forth feeble, though full of promise. In the man it unfolds its fragrant petals, his most celestial flower, to mature its seed throughout eternity. The prospect of that everlasting life, the perfect justice yet to come, the infinite progress before us, cheer and comfort the heart. Sad and dissatisfied, full of self-reproach, we shall not be so forever. The light of heaven breaks upon the night of trial, sorrow, sin; the somber clouds which overhung the east, grown purple now, tell us the dawn of heaven is coming in. Our faces, gleamed on by that, smile in the new-born glow; we are beguiled of our sadness before we are aware. The certainty of this provokes us to patience, it forbids us to be thoughtfully sorrowful. It calls us to be up and doing.…

There is small merit in being willing to die; it seems almost sinful in a good man to wish it when the world needs him here so much. It is weak and unmanly to be always looking and sighing voluptuously for that. But it is of great value here and now to anticipate time and live to-day the eternal life. That we may all do. The joys of heaven will begin as soon as we attain the character of heaven and do its duties. That may begin to-day. It is everlasting life to know God, to have His Spirit dwelling in you, yourself at one with Him. Try that and prove its worth. Justice, usefulness, wisdom, religion, love, are the best things we hope for in heaven. Try them on—they will fit you here not less becomingly. They are the best things of earth. Think no outlay of goodness and piety too great. You will find your reward begin here. As much goodness and piety, so much heaven. Men will not pay you—God will; pay you now, hereafter, and forever.—Theodore Parker.

[June 21.]

Let us do all the business we can.… If we can’t be a lighthouse, let us be a tallow candle. Some one said, “I can’t be anything more than a farthing rushlight.” Well, if you can’t be more, be that; that is well enough. Be all you can. What makes the Dead Sea dead? Because it is all the time receiving, never giving out anything. You go every Sunday and hear good sermons, and think that is enough. You are all the time receiving these grand truths, but never give them out. When you hear it, go and scatter the sacred truth abroad. Instead of having one minister to preach to a thousand people, this thousand ought to take a sermon and spread it till it reaches those that never go to church or chapel. Instead of having a few, we ought to have thousands using the precious talents that God has given them.…

If God has not given us but half a talent, let us make good use of that. When God told the people to take their seats by fifties, he told Philip to get food for them. “What,” says Philip, “feed them with this little loaf? Why, there is not more than enough for the first man.” “Yes, go and feed them with that.” Philip thought that was a very small amount for such a multitude of hungry men. He broke off a piece for the first man, and didn’t miss it; a piece for the second man, and didn’t miss it; a piece for the third man, and didn’t miss it. He was making good use of the loaf, and God kept increasing it. That is what the Lord wants to do with us. He will give us just as many talents as we can take care of.

There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord; but few of us willing to do little things. The mighty sermon on regeneration was preached to one man. There are many who are willing to preach to thousands, but are not willing to take their seat beside one soul, and lead that soul to the blessed Jesus. We must get down to personal effort—this bringing one by one to the Son of God. We can find no better example of this than in the life of Christ himself. Look at that wonderful sermon that he preached to that lone woman at the well of Samaria. He was tired and weary, but he had time and the heart to preach to her. This is but one of many instances in the life of the Master from which we may learn a precious lesson. If the Son of God had time to preach to one soul, can not every one of us go and do the same?…

“I commend you”—and in this connection, I want to tell you how the God of all grace has kept us. For nearly twenty-one years he has watched over me. He has watched over me and stood by me in the hour of temptation and trial; he has brought light to me out of darkness; and he will do the same with you. In leaving you, young converts, I would like to leave with you two Ws—the one is Work, and the other is the Word; or, rather, the first is the Word, and the other is Work. Go out and work for him, and you will become strong Christians. There are two lives that you want to lead. The one is your inner life, that the world knows nothing of, that the wife of your bosom knows nothing of. That life is between yourself and God; and if you don’t lead this aright, the outer life will not be long right. Let me say to you, young converts, read your Bibles and you will be strong. If you don’t, you will fall; and the men who are now scoffing at this movement will say: “I told you you would fall back again; the meetings have been only an emotional excitement; only a sensation.” I pray that God Almighty may keep you. Just have those two Ws before you—the Word and Work—and make that your banner.—D. L. Moody.

[June 28.]

What language, “Father, forgive them!” and, in the words, what an act, greater than the most splendid miracles with which he marked his radiant path through the world.…

“Forgive them!” Is it possible? With these words … he covers the guilty heads of his murderers with the shield of his love, in order to secure them from the storm of the well deserved wrath of Almighty God. With these words, which must have produced adoring astonishment, even in the angels themselves, he takes these miscreants in the arms of his compassion, and bears them up to the steps of his Father’s throne, in order to commend them to his mercy. For know, my readers, that the words “Forgive them,” mean, in Jesus’s mouth, not merely, “Do not impute to them the murderous crime they have committed upon me.” No, when he utters “Forgive,” it comprehends something much more, and embraces the whole register of sins. In his mouth it means, “Plunge their whole sinful life into the depths of the sea, and remember no more their transgressions, but consider these sinners henceforth as dear in thy sight, and act toward them as such.”

There are individuals on earth for whom no one feels inclined to pray, because they are too depraved. There are those who even dare not pray for themselves, because their consciences testify that such worthless creatures as they are can not reckon upon being heard. What a prospect is here opened to people of this description! Ah, if no heart beats for them on earth, the heart of the King of kings may still feel for them. If among their friends not one is to be found to intercede for them, yet, possibly, the Lord of Glory is not ashamed of bearing their names before his Father’s throne. O, what hope beams on Calvary for a sinful world! And if the great Intercessor appears there for a transgressor, how does his intercession succeed? Though a whole world should protest against it, his prayer saves whom he will. His voice penetrates the heart of the eternal Father with irresistible power. His entreaties are commands. Mountains of sin vanish before his intercession. How highly characteristic and deeply significant is the fact that the Lord, with this prayer, commences the seven expressions he uttered on the cross. The words, “Forgive them!” show us not merely the heaven of loving kindness which he carries in his bosom, but it also darts like lightning through the gloom of the entire night of suffering, and deciphers the mysterious position which the Holy One of Israel here occupies as Surety, Mediator, and High Priest.…

… And yet the prayer for forgiveness raises its wing from the mount of suffering and passes apparently through all those eternal and unimpingeable statutes and limitations. It puts aside even Mount Sinai and Ebal, and heeds not the cherub of the law, who keeps the gate of paradise, and is enjoined to admit only the righteous. Careless of his flaming sword, it soars with seemingly unheard-of boldness above the brazen walls of the manifold menaces of the divine maledictions which inexorably close against sinners the entrance to the mansions above, and in a most striking contrariety with the indelible inscription over the eternal sanctuary, “Him that sinneth against me will I blot out of my book,” requests forgiveness and even admittance into the habitations of the blessed children of God, for rebels, blasphemers, and murderers.—F. W. Krumacher.[2]