44 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Jan. 1 



er put it into missionary woi'k or give it to 

 the Anti-saloon League, in accoi'dance with 

 that other text in the precious word of God, 

 ' 'Lay not up for yourselves treasui'es on earth, 

 where moth and rust doth corrupt, and 

 where thieves break through and steal; but 

 lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, 

 where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and 

 where thieves do not break through nor steal. ' ' 

 I thought 1 could invest the money to better 

 advantage than paying it out for an expen- 

 sive room that would not add to viy comfort. 

 Just as I knelt down by my neat clean bed 

 to thank God for his mercies, and to ask him 

 to help me to be of some use in that strange 

 land, a sudden answer came to that prayer, 

 that thrilled me through and throiigh. It 

 was worth more to me than any thing money 

 can buy — yes, a thousand times more than 

 expensive hotels or even whole cities. It 

 seemed a little wonderful, and yet it was a 

 simple thing after all. I had the two win- 

 dows open in my room ( as of course I would 

 as it was a warm evening), and there was ev- 

 idently a window open in sc-me neighboring 

 building, for from that open window came 

 floating across to me, in a sweet motherly 

 voice, the words, 



A never-dying soul to save, 

 And fit it for the sky. 



This good woman, whoever she was, was 

 evidently busy about some household duty. 

 The hymn came only in fitful snatches. Now, 

 I have before heard women at work sing a 

 stanza or two, then when at liberty they 

 would resume it and sing a little more. Per- 

 haps your wife has done the same thing, just 

 as my wife does; and, oh how I do love to 

 hear those spontcmcous bursts of song inter- 

 spersing the daily routine of household tasks! 

 The singer waited a moment, and then she 

 burst forth again: 



Arm me with jealous care, 



As in thy sight to live; 

 And, oh thy servant, Lord, prepare, 



A strict account to give. 



I have attended great concerts; I have 

 heard celebrated singers; but none ever gave 

 me svich a thrill as those old familiar words 

 that my father used to sing when he was a 

 carpenter working at the bench. I think I 

 can remember when, in answer to my moth- 

 er's prayers, he was converted to the Lord 

 Jesus Christ— the time when he stopped work 

 and every thing else, and gazed on that Sa- 

 vior, and" then knelt at his feet, putting his 

 whole life into the dear Savior's care and 

 keeping. What a happy man he was then! 

 He would, while at work at his carpenter's 

 bench, suddenly burst forth with snatches 

 from some of those old hymns in a way that 

 would almost startle people. 



That night I went to sleep happy, as you 

 may imagine, at peace with God and with all 

 the world. Soon in my dreams I was with a 

 crowd of friends. As I hurried along my 

 foot struck some obstacle. I looked at it 

 curiously. Said I to those present, "Why, 

 what is this?" and I stooped down and pick- 

 ed it up. It had a familiar look. Some one 

 replied, "Why, dear me! It must be the 



crown of thorns where it was dropped when 

 Jesus was crucified. It has been kicking 

 about through all these centuries, and no- 

 body has noticed it or stopped to pick it up 

 until our old friend A. I. Root came among 

 us. ' ' 



When I woke up in the morning and be- 

 gan to collect my senses I almost thought my 

 dream of the night was real; and then I won- 

 dered if the snatches of that hymn wei'e only 

 a dream. Well, I looked in my pocket dia- 

 ry, and there were the pencil-marks as I 

 hastily noted it down the night before — 



A never-dying soul to save, 

 And fit it for the sky. 



I knelt down and prayed again that God 

 would help me to use better the remaining 

 days of my life toward that one end as ex- 

 pressed in that beautiful hymn, to help fit 

 and train some of these little ones for the 

 sky instead of for death and I'uin. 



in closing 1 wish to make an extract from 

 that excellent home paper, the Sunday-School 

 Times. My dear friend, if somebody should 

 ask me what is the best paper in the world 

 to have in the family, and to have the chil- 

 dren, father, and mother read daily, I do not 

 know but I should say that it is this same 

 Sunday-School Times. I would have that 

 first; and if I were a farmer or gardener I 

 would have the Rural New-Yorker. I do not 

 know but I would have Gleanings too, if 

 you will excuse me for this little bit of self- 

 ishness. But here is the extract from the 

 Su7iday- School Times: 



Physical health may he an animal's first duty, but 

 it is not man's. It is a man's duty to keep as well as 

 he can while he does what God calls him to do. But 

 he can never even hear God's call if he is thinking 

 chiefly about his health. Nations are not founded, 

 nor heathen lands evangelized, nor canals digged, 

 nor frontiers extended, nor the kingom of heaven 

 moved forward in this world, by men who are think- 

 ing most about keeping their bodies well. The world 

 would have been lost if one man had not been will- 

 ing to give up his life for it. And the mystery of it 

 is that physical health is so often for the first time 

 found after it is endangered. A chalky-cheeked, con- 

 sumptive Connecticut man in the sixties was told that 

 he would not live two weeks if he re^^ponded to the 

 President's call for more men. He enlisted, and for 

 the first time found health in army-life exposure; 

 and for forty years more he continued to be just as 

 imprudent in Gods service. Such "imprudences" 

 are a better safeguard than a health policy. 



The special point I wish to call attention 

 to is this: "The world would have been lost 

 if one man had not been willing to give up 

 his life for it." When writing my health 

 notes, and dwelling so much on what we 

 should eat to be well and strong, I confess 

 my conscience has troubled me several times 

 because I have spent so much time in dwell- 

 ing on the "things that perish." Health is 

 a very important matter, it is true; but, dear 

 brother and sister, let us not foi-get that we 

 had better be sick every day of our lives — 

 yes, we had better be crippled for life — than 

 to be in the bondage of sin. 



Now, if this copy of that wonderful paint- 

 ing gives you such a spiritual uplift as it did 

 my poor self, then my talk to-day will not 

 have been in vain. Even if it is ti'iie that he 

 was ' ' despised and rejected of men, a man 

 of sorrows and acquainted with grief," it is 



