OCTOBER 15, 1916 



A. I. Root 



OUR HOMES 



Editor 



Except a man be born again he cannot see tnc 

 Kingdom of God. — John 3:3. 



He -which converteth the sinner from the error of 

 his way shall save a sonl from death, and shall hide 

 a multitude of sins. — James 5 :20. 



During our pastor's reeeot vacation there 

 was one Sunday when there were no ser- 

 vices in our Congregational church; but he 

 enjoined us, each and every one, to take the 

 opportunity to attend the neighboring 

 churches. Said he, " Do not any of you 

 stay at home just because there are no ser- 

 vices in our own church." I accordingly 

 went to the Baptist church. On this occa- 

 sion the leader of the Bible class had occa- 

 sion to remark that tlie Jews were Jews by 

 birth. They prided themselves on the fact 

 of their being sons of Abraham, and seemed 

 to claim there was no other way of belong- 

 ing to God's elect than by birth. Well, our 

 leader suggested right here that the new 

 birth that is open to each and every child 

 of humanity opens the way to every sinner, 

 no matter what his past life may have been. 



If I am correct about it, there has been 

 a great deal of difficulty in comprehending 

 or explaining this matter of the new birth. 

 Even Nicodemus, a " master of Israel," 

 expressed a difficulty in comprehending it 

 away back in oriental times. 



Well, my purpose in this Home paper is 

 to try to make it plain to you what this 

 new birth means, and how it is brought 

 about. The story I am going to quote comes 

 from Frances E. Willard. And, by way of 

 introduction to you as to who Miss Willard 

 was, I clip the following from the Appeal 

 to Iirason : 



Frances E. Willard was recognized as one of the 

 greatest women this country has produced. Her 

 entire lifetime was spent in the advocacy of reforms, 

 particularly temperance. The state of' New York, 

 has honored her memory by putting a statue of her 

 in Statuary Hall at the United States capitol in 

 Washington. Miss Willard's statue is the first one 

 of a woman found in that famous hall. 



Now, friends, here is the tract that I 

 have read over and over, and I hope it may 

 appeal to you as it has done to me every 

 time I have read it : 



WHITE SHOES AND WHITE DRESS. 



Miss Willard always enjoyed telling this true 

 experience of one of the leaders of the Temperance 

 Crusade: 



One morning during the crusade a drunkard's 

 wife came to my door. She carried in her arms a 

 baby six weeks old. Her pale, pinched face was 

 sad to see, and she told me this sorrowful story: 

 "My husband is drinking himself to death; he is 

 lost to all human feeeling ; our rent is unpaid, and 

 we are liable to be put out into the street ; and 

 there is no food in the house for me and the chil- 

 dren. He has a good trade, but his earnings all go 

 into the saloon on the corner near us ; he is becom- 



ing more and more brutal and abusive. We seem 

 to be on the verge of ruin. How can I, feeble as T 

 am, with a babe in my arms, earn bread for myself 

 and children ? " 



Quick as thought the question came to me, and I 

 asked it: "Why not have that husband of yours 

 converted? " 



But she answered hopelessly, " Oh I there's no 

 hope of such a thing. He cares for nothing but 

 strong drink." 



" 111 come and see him this afternoon," said I. 



" He'll insult you," she replied. 



" No matter," said I. " My Savior was insulted, 

 and the servant is not above his Lord." 



That very afternoon I called at the little tenement 

 house. The husband was at work at his trade in a 

 back room, and his little girl was sent to tell him 

 that a lady wished to see him. The child, however, 

 soon returned with the message, " My father says 

 he won't see any one." 



But I sent him a message proving that I was 

 indeed in earnest. I said, " Go back and tell your 

 father that a lady wishes to see him on very impor- 

 tant business, and she must see him, even if she has 

 to stay till after supper." 



I knew very well that there was nothing in the 

 house to eat. A moment afterward a poor, bloated, 

 besotted vsTeck of a man stood before me. 



"What do you want?" he demanded, as he came 

 shuffling into the room. 



" Please be seated, and look at this paper," I 

 answered, pointing to a vacant chair at the end of 

 the table where I was sitting and handing a printed 

 pledge to him. 



He read it slowly, and then, throwing it down 

 upon the table, broke out violently: 



" Do you think I'm a fool? I drink when I 

 please, and let it alone when I please. I'm not 

 going to sign away my personal liberty." 



"Do you think you can stop drinking?" 



" Yes, I could if I wanted to." 



" On the contrary, I think you're a slave to the 

 rum-shop down on the corner." 



■' No, I ain't any such thing." 



" I think, too, that you love the saloon-keeper's 

 daughter better than you do your own little girl." 



" No, I don't, either." 



" Well, let us see about that. When I passed the 

 saloon-keeper's house, I saw his little girl coming 

 down the steps, and she had on white shoes, and a 

 white dress, and a blue sash. Your money helped to 

 buy them. I come here, and your little girl, more 

 beautiful than she, has on a faded, ragged dress, 

 and her feet are bare." 



" That's so, madam." 



"And you love the saloon-keeper's wife better 

 than you love your own wife." 



"Never, no, never!" 



" When I passed the saloon-keeper's house I saw 

 his wife come out with a little girl, and she was 

 dressed in silk and laces, and a carriage waited for 

 her. Your money helped to buy all the silks and 

 laces, and the horses and the carriage. I come 

 here and find your wife in a faded calico gown, 

 doing her o-mi work; if she goes anywhere she must 

 walk." 



" You speak the truth, madam." 



" You love the saloon-keeper better than you 

 love yourself. You say you can keep from drinking 

 if you choose ; but you helped the saloon-keeper to 

 build himself a fine brick house, and you live in this 

 poor tumble-down old house yourself." 



" T never saw it in that light before." Then, 

 holding out his hand, that shook like an aspen leaf, 

 he continued, " You speak the truth, madam — I am 

 a slave. Do you see that hand ? I've got a piece 



