Chapter 85

A human soul went forth into the night,Shutting behind it Death’s mysterious door,And shaking off with strange, resistless mightThe dust that once it wore.So swift its flight, so suddenly it sped—As when by skillful hand a bow is bentThe arrow flies—those watching round the bedMarked not the way it went.Through the clear silence of the moonless dark,Leaving no footprint of the road it trod,Straight as an arrow cleaving to its mark,The Soul went home to God.“Alas!” they cried, “he never saw the morn,But fell asleep outwearied with the strife”—Nay, rather, he arose and met the dawnOf everlasting life.

A human soul went forth into the night,

Shutting behind it Death’s mysterious door,

And shaking off with strange, resistless might

The dust that once it wore.

So swift its flight, so suddenly it sped—

As when by skillful hand a bow is bent

The arrow flies—those watching round the bed

Marked not the way it went.

Through the clear silence of the moonless dark,Leaving no footprint of the road it trod,Straight as an arrow cleaving to its mark,The Soul went home to God.“Alas!” they cried, “he never saw the morn,But fell asleep outwearied with the strife”—Nay, rather, he arose and met the dawnOf everlasting life.

Through the clear silence of the moonless dark,

Leaving no footprint of the road it trod,

Straight as an arrow cleaving to its mark,

The Soul went home to God.

“Alas!” they cried, “he never saw the morn,

But fell asleep outwearied with the strife”—

Nay, rather, he arose and met the dawn

Of everlasting life.

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SOUL, GREATNESS OF THE

The mountain is vast in size and weight. The weary feet clamber over it painfully. It offers homes along its breast to the enterprise which seeks them. Its quarries build palaces, and its woods timber navies. It lifts its crown of snow and ice against the sky, and stands amid the scene a very monarch of earth, primeval and abiding. But the soul can compass that mountain in itsthought, without weariness or pain; can take it up and weigh it, in the balances of exact mathematical computation; and spurning it then, as a mere footstool for its activity, can spring from it to that boundless expanse amid which the mountain is less than is the least of the dust grains of the balance to its solid bulk.—Richard S. Storrs.

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Soul-growth—SeeGrowth, Unconscious.

SOUL, HARMONIOUS NATURE OF

A harp might conceivably be so framed by its maker that every string, tho rightly tuned and rightly struck, according to the theory and design of the instrument, should emit when touched a separate discord. Or it may be so framed, as we know by experience, that from it shall flow, when fitly swept by an educated hand, the concerted numbers of noble music; inspiring the thoughts with their spiritual force, or suffusing the very air around us with an audible glory, and making it drop benedictions upon us. If the former be the case, we know that the instrument was made without design, or else was made with malicious intent, to mock with pain where it promised to please. Now God has so framed the human soul, in His wise and benevolent ordination of its powers, that each of these powers as normally employed, according to His plan, gives a separate pleasure. If unhappiness comes from them, it is from their wrong use, not from their use; from our perversion, and not from our just employment of them.—Richard S. Storrs.

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SOUL-MUSIC

During the fame of Ole Bull he played one night before the students of Princeton College. It was a wonderful exhibition. They marveled, as so many had marveled before them, at the strange things which he did with the violin. They heard the birds as they warbled among the trees of the forest; they heard the storms as they hurled their thunders back and forth among the crags of the mountain. Then the tones became so soft and sweet they could almost believe a mother was singing her babe asleep. When he had finished they gathered about him and said, “Tell us the secret.” Ole Bull answered, “It is not in the instrument nor the bow, tho I use the best that money can buy. It is not primarily in the hand that wields the bow, nor the fingers that press the strings. If there is anything to tell, it is this: I never play until my own soul is full. Then the music is the overflow of the musician’s soul.”

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SOUL QUERIES

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?Yes, to the very end.Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?From morn to night, my friend.Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?Those who have gone before.Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?They will not keep you standing at the door.Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?Of labor you shall find the sum.—Rossetti.

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?

From morn to night, my friend.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you standing at the door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labor you shall find the sum.

—Rossetti.

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Soul-revival—SeeConversion.

SOUL-SATISFACTION

Ellen Glasgow writes of the contentment of a soul on friendly terms with itself:

Since my soul and I are friends,I go laughing on my road;Whether up or down it wends,I have never felt my load.

Since my soul and I are friends,

I go laughing on my road;

Whether up or down it wends,

I have never felt my load.

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SOUL-SURGERY

In the corn-field you find the juicy ear overtaken by the deadly fungus. The farmer lifts his knife, and cuts away one-half of the ear, that he may save the sweet corn on the other half. From the prodigal, Jesus cut away his sins, that He might save the boy’s soul.—N. D. Hillis.

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SOUL, YOUR

A very little girl, having received some dim impression regarding the soul, was asking her mother what it was. “Can you feel the soul, mother; can you hear it?” she asked, and then, “can you see it?” The mother answered that the soul could not be felt or heard, but that sometimes it seemed as if we could see it in the eyes. “Let me see yours,” said the little one, and gazing into the mother’s dear eyes she saw there the tiny image of herself, and exclaimed, “O mother, your soul is a little child!”

It would be profitable to all of us if we would ask ourselves this question, “Is my soul a little child?” (Text.)

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SOUNDS

Compared with the Western world, with its indescribable hubbub, Korea is a land of the most reposeful silence. There are no harsh pavements over which horses are tugging their lives out, no jostling of carts or dray-wagons, no hateful clamor that forbids quiet conversation, but a repose that is inherent and eternally restful. The rattle of the ironing-sticks is not nerve-racking, but rather serves as a soporific to put all the world to sleep. Apart from this, one hears nothing but the few calls and echoes of human voices. What a delightfully quiet land is Korea! In the very heart of its great city, Seoul, you might experiment at midday in the latest methods of restcure and have all the world to help you.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”

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SOWING AND REAPING

Plant blessings, and blessings will bloom;Plant hate and hate will grow;You can sow to-day—to-morrow will bringThe blossom that proves what sort of a thingIs the seed, the seed that you sow. (Text.)

Plant blessings, and blessings will bloom;

Plant hate and hate will grow;

You can sow to-day—to-morrow will bring

The blossom that proves what sort of a thing

Is the seed, the seed that you sow. (Text.)

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SOWING BY SONG

“What shall the harvest be?” the composition of Mrs. Emily Oakey, and as sung by Mr. Sankey, won to Christ and to the gospel ministry the Rev. W. O. Lattimore, long pastor in Evanston, Ill. Young Lattimore joined the army in 1861 a moral youth of eighteen years, but later, a first lieutenant, he fell into drink, becoming a physical wreck. But one day in 1876, in the gallery of Moody’s Tabernacle in Chicago, dazed from drink, the voice of Sankey in this pathetic song aroused in him new emotions, particularly the words:

“Sowing the seed of a lingering pain,Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,Sowing the seed of a tarnished name,Sowing the seed of eternal shame,O, what shall the harvest be?”

“Sowing the seed of a lingering pain,

Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,

Sowing the seed of a tarnished name,

Sowing the seed of eternal shame,

O, what shall the harvest be?”

The seed was sown—good seed this time; and from the saloon to which he withdrew, he returned to the Tabernacle, found a Savior, rejoined wife and child whom he had long abandoned, and after a successful pastorate of twenty years, died in 1899—a whole harvest to the seed-sowing of Christian song.

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SPACE NOT VACANT

The idea that the vast spaces between the sun and the various planets are void and untenanted now belongs only to the history of science. To-day it is known that these spaces are filled with vast swarms of minute, dust-like bodies, each and every one revolving about the sun in vast ellipses, each one being, in fact, a microscopic planet. These bodies make their presence known not only as meteors or shooting-stars, but also by their power to reflect sunlight, and thus produce the peculiar evening glow of the zodiacal light.—Charles Lane Poor, “The Solar System.”

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Sparrow and Sermon—SeeSermon, Saving a.

Speaking Extemporaneously—SeeTact.

SPEAKING, PUBLIC

To talk to a crowd of 5,000 people—few living speakers know what that means; the expenditure of nervous force, the strain on throat and brain, on body and soul. But Wesley did this, not only every day, but often twice and three times in a day. He did it for fifty years, and the strain did not kill him!Gladstone’s Midlothian campaign in 1879 is famous in history; but it was confined to a little patch of Scotland; it lasted fifteen days, and represented perhaps twenty speeches. But Wesley carried on his campaign on a scale which leaves Mr. Gladstone’s performances dwarfed into insignificance. He did it on the great stage of the three kingdoms, and he maintained it without a break for more than fifty years!—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”

Gladstone’s Midlothian campaign in 1879 is famous in history; but it was confined to a little patch of Scotland; it lasted fifteen days, and represented perhaps twenty speeches. But Wesley carried on his campaign on a scale which leaves Mr. Gladstone’s performances dwarfed into insignificance. He did it on the great stage of the three kingdoms, and he maintained it without a break for more than fifty years!—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”

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SeeTact.

SPEAKING TO DO GOOD

A writer in the LondonMailhas this to say concerning Theodore Roosevelt while in Egypt:

At Cairo he was asked to leave out his reference to the murder of the Prime Minister.“No,” he answered, “that is just what I want to say. If you do not care about it let us call the engagement off.”There spoke the essential Roosevelt, not the politician, but the preacher. His object in speaking is to do good. To give advice, to stiffen healthy instincts, to strengthen public opinion against meanness and cruelty, to induce every man and every woman to make the best of themselves—those are the essential Roosevelt aims. His style smacks more of the pulpit than the platform.... “If I had been a Methodist,” he once declared, “I should have applied for a license as a lay preacher.” Since then he has obtained his license to preach—but from a greater body than the Methodist Conference. He is preacher-in-general to the whole civilized world.

There spoke the essential Roosevelt, not the politician, but the preacher. His object in speaking is to do good. To give advice, to stiffen healthy instincts, to strengthen public opinion against meanness and cruelty, to induce every man and every woman to make the best of themselves—those are the essential Roosevelt aims. His style smacks more of the pulpit than the platform.... “If I had been a Methodist,” he once declared, “I should have applied for a license as a lay preacher.” Since then he has obtained his license to preach—but from a greater body than the Methodist Conference. He is preacher-in-general to the whole civilized world.

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SPEECH

Compare the golden oriole, swinging in the sunshine, and filling the house with flashing melodies, with the infant, moaning in his yet inarticulate speech, that lies beneath! The bird was made for enjoyment first; for work, subordinately. The infant was created for an enjoyment to be realized through fervent operation. The bird has a beauty of the Mind which created him. The gloss upon his breast, and the brilliance on his wings, were put there by God’s pencil. His gushing song warbles a tribute to Him who gave him power to sing. But the child has a struggling capacity within him, as much grander than this as the spiritual and divine are always grander than the physical. He hath in his being the germs of speech. And speech can represent the most delicate feeling. It can set forth the mightiest process of thought. It can furnish an image for all that is conceived. It can take up and interpret the very thoughts of the infinite, translating them into language for the immortals to hear.—Richard S. Storrs.

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SeeSilence and Speech.

SPEECH AND MISSIONARIES

We very frequently disgust people because of our seven-by-nine vocabulary. When the missionaries first went to the Hawaiian Islands it was perfectly proper for them to call the horse the “not pig,” because they knew no horse and the newcomers were obliged to describe a horse in some way; but it is infantile for a missionary in countries where horses are common, because they do not happen to know the word for “horse” and do know the words for “not pig,” to call a horse the “not pig.” There is too much guesswork about that kind of talk, and you offend people by so doing.Vulgarity of speech is a very common fault with many. We do not realize, perhaps, how our language has been purified, but in most of the missionary countries the language is vile beyond expression. A missionary adopts a word heard because he wants to use the language of the people; and he picks up something that is very greatly soiled. I recall a meeting that was electrified and horrified by a missionary who, in reading a hymn, repeatedly used an obscene word through sheer carelessness.—H. P. Beach, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

Vulgarity of speech is a very common fault with many. We do not realize, perhaps, how our language has been purified, but in most of the missionary countries the language is vile beyond expression. A missionary adopts a word heard because he wants to use the language of the people; and he picks up something that is very greatly soiled. I recall a meeting that was electrified and horrified by a missionary who, in reading a hymn, repeatedly used an obscene word through sheer carelessness.—H. P. Beach, “Student Volunteer Movement,” 1906.

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Speech and Practise—SeeProfession versus Character.

SPEECH, COMMON

John Wesley believed in the people, and one of the chief secrets of his success lay in his power to learn from the masses how to speak to them and influence them. On one occasion he was walking with his scarcely less famous brother, Charles Wesley, the hymn-writer, in a humble street in London, when they came face to face with a crowd of fishwomen who were in a row, and were cursing and swearing in a most excited fashion. Charles Wesley, more timid than his brother, turned to John and said: “Brother, let us go up this other street and escape from this mob.” But John Wesley thought Charles needed more contact with the people, and taking him by both shoulders faced around toward the quarreling women, saying, “You stand there, Charles Wesley, and learn how to preach!”—Everybody’s Magazine.

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Speech, The Effect of Earnest—SeeEarnestness.

Speed—SeeSwiftness of Birds.

Speed in Travel—SeeTraveling, Progress in.

Speed Increased by Reducing Delays—SeeDelay.

Speed, Sensation of—SeeObstacles.

SPEED, THE SECRET OF

In attacking some evils the best way to sweep them down, is often to use our greatest bulk and energy at theoutset; as a ship, according to M. C. L. Meyher, moves fastest when the bow is made larger than the stern.

It should be noted in passing that all creatures that are called upon to move rapidly through a fluid are much slenderer behind than before, and it should be added that forms that are too slender in front are quite unsuited for great speeds. This may easily be demonstrated, but would take us too far from our subject for the moment. We should only say that it is difficult to understand why designers so often persist in giving to vessels forms that are more slender in the bow than in the stern, when the contrary should be the case.—Revue Generale des Sciences.

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Spelling at Fault—SeeIlliteracy.

SPHINX, THE

Out of the changeful fury of the tide-rifts streaming byWilt build thee, O world, a place of peace, and show God by and by?Or all the riot of roses and the loves that escape control,Are they rainbows shed on a melting cloud from the central sun of my soul?O musical storms and stars, do ye strike wild chords unplanned?Or is there a master-musician, who leads with uplifted hand?If a God’s will shape the heavens, is He perfect, boundless, free?Or feel He the bondage of violent dust? Does He suffer and strive like me?I know that I never shall answer the riddles that haunt the mind,I see but a spark of the infinite flame—to all the rest born blind.Yet envy I not the gazers who boast of their clearer sight;For safer I walk if I know I am blind, than calling the darkness light.For all my riddle unanswered, for all my blindness known,I would rather keep asking the secret than to make it all my own.I believe that the stir of the questions is the spirit’s ultimate breath.All life is a passionate question. Wilt thou not answer it, Death?—Theodore C. Williams,Unity.

Out of the changeful fury of the tide-rifts streaming by

Wilt build thee, O world, a place of peace, and show God by and by?

Or all the riot of roses and the loves that escape control,

Are they rainbows shed on a melting cloud from the central sun of my soul?

O musical storms and stars, do ye strike wild chords unplanned?Or is there a master-musician, who leads with uplifted hand?If a God’s will shape the heavens, is He perfect, boundless, free?Or feel He the bondage of violent dust? Does He suffer and strive like me?

O musical storms and stars, do ye strike wild chords unplanned?

Or is there a master-musician, who leads with uplifted hand?

If a God’s will shape the heavens, is He perfect, boundless, free?

Or feel He the bondage of violent dust? Does He suffer and strive like me?

I know that I never shall answer the riddles that haunt the mind,I see but a spark of the infinite flame—to all the rest born blind.Yet envy I not the gazers who boast of their clearer sight;For safer I walk if I know I am blind, than calling the darkness light.

I know that I never shall answer the riddles that haunt the mind,

I see but a spark of the infinite flame—to all the rest born blind.

Yet envy I not the gazers who boast of their clearer sight;

For safer I walk if I know I am blind, than calling the darkness light.

For all my riddle unanswered, for all my blindness known,I would rather keep asking the secret than to make it all my own.I believe that the stir of the questions is the spirit’s ultimate breath.All life is a passionate question. Wilt thou not answer it, Death?—Theodore C. Williams,Unity.

For all my riddle unanswered, for all my blindness known,

I would rather keep asking the secret than to make it all my own.

I believe that the stir of the questions is the spirit’s ultimate breath.

All life is a passionate question. Wilt thou not answer it, Death?

—Theodore C. Williams,Unity.

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Spiders and Music—SeeMusic and Spiders.

Spider as a Barometer—SeeIndicator, An Insect.

Spiders, The Value of—SeeBalance Preserved in Nature.

SPIRIT AND FORM

Religion may be compared to a banana. The real heart religion is the juicy pulp; the forms and ceremonies are the skin. While the two are united and undivided the banana keeps good until it is used. And so it is with religion. Separate the forms from the spirit, and the one will be of no more value than the banana husk, while the latter will speedily decay and become corrupt, apart from the outward expression.—Arthur T. Pierson.

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SPIRIT, FRUIT OF

How beautiful on paper are the flowers delineated in many a seedman’s catalog, but what disappointment sometimes ensues when it is found that their actual growth comes far short of the printed description! It is never so with the fruits of the Spirit, of which Paul gives a list. All the grace described in his catalog brings forth glory that answers fully to the promise. The divine Spirit never disappoints and the grace of God can not fail. (Text.)

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Spirit Manifestation a Power—SeeConsistency.

SPIRIT MORE THAN BODY

One of America’s prominent astronomers is only four feet high, and would hardly outweigh a boy of ten years. But there are few who could outweigh him in intellect and achievement. Alexander H. Stephens, with a dwarf’s body, did a giant’s work. With only a broken scythe, by sheer force of will and work, he overmatched in the harvest those who had fine mowing-machines.

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SPIRIT, THE SPARK OF

Recently, I visited Fort Monroe and was taken through those interesting barracks. An officer pointing out a great gun said to me, “With that we could tear to pieces yonder wall of stone and destroy many lives thousands of yards away.” A friend standing near said, “Not so, that gun in itself is powerless.” “Oh,” the officer exclaimed, “of course, we must first place the powder andthe shell in it, and then the disastrous work will be done.” The reply was made, “All of your guns and powder and shell are absolutely powerless to make any impression in themselves. There is one thing lacking.” “Yes,” he said, “but a spark of fire would hurl forth the missile of death and bring about the great destruction.” We may have big guns in the pulpit, and in the pew, we may have the finest machinery and external equipment; but unless we have the fire of the Spirit we can never shatter the strongholds of Satan and bring in the reign of our spiritual King.—H. Allen Tupper.

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SPIRIT, WINDS OF THE

Many a pilgrim has been lost in the world’s deserts. A wanderer who had lost his bearing in a wilderness, altho he had in his hand a compass, knew not whether its needle pointed toward a place of rest and refreshment, or only to a spot where he might lie down in despair.

He sank down on the arid sand. But presently a green leaf was wafted close to his feet. On seeing that it was perfectly green and fresh, he reasoned that it must have come from some not distant place where water, shade, and food could be found, and of course the breeze indicated the right direction. Facing the wind he soon discovered an oasis where he quenched his thirst at a spring.

So the promises from the word of God, fresh with the dew of the Spirit of life, flutter to us on what seems to be the chance currents of life. Often thus when our hearts are weary, and joy has faded, and hope is weak, we are encouraged with revived strength and are made to understand which way to turn.

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Spirit’s Permanence—SeeRecord, Living.

Spirit’s Presence, The—SeePresence of God.

SPIRITS, WATCHING

The influence exerted by belief in invisible presences is illustrated by Mr. Lafcadio Hearn, who says that it is extremely difficult for a Western mind to apprehend the full meaning of ancestor-worship as a family religion, and cites as the nearest parallel the nature of the old Greek piety:

Each member of the family supposes himself or herself under perpetual ghostly surveillance. Spirit eyes are watching every act; spirit ears are listening to every word. Thoughts, too, not less than deeds, are visible to the gaze of the dead; the heart must be pure, the mind must be under control, within the presence of the spirits. Probably the influence of such beliefs, uninterruptedly exerted upon conduct during thousands of years, did much to form the charming side of Japanese character. (Text.)

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SPIRITISTIC PHENOMENA

In an article on apparitions written by Andrew Lang, in the second volume of the “Encyclopedia Britannica,” ninth edition, he says:

“The writer once met, as he believed, a well-known and learned member of an English university who was really dying at a place more than a hundred miles distant from that in which he was seen.”To determine whether or not it was a case of mistaken identity is very important, but no opportunity is given in the passage quoted. If it was a subjective impression, the coincidence would be curious and nothing else; and not more so than many coincidences in trifles, and many other circumstances absolutely disconnected, and many subjective impressions without any coincidences. Mr. Lang refers to the superstitious horror shown by a dog at the moment of a supposed apparition to his master. That the dog exhibited horror when his owner thought he saw an apparition may be readily believed. Any one familiar with dogs knows that nothing will terrify them more than a great appearance of alarm on the part of their masters without any visible cause. Of the same nature is the remark concerning the mysterious disturbances at the house of the Wesleys. “The mastiff was more afraid than any of the children.” The volatile imagination of children have never shown any great horror of the mysteries; they were sustained, too, by confidence in their parents. But the dog heard mysterious noises, which naturally greatly agitated him. Many persons fancy that mysterious noises that will appear to respond to questions, tomake raps or answer raps, conclusively prove that they are directed by intelligence. Sometimes they may, and the intelligence is quite likely to be of human origin; but the noises of atmospheric, chemical, or electrical origin may furnish astonishing coincidences, just as the fissures in the rocks are extremely difficult to be distinguished from hieroglyphics. Some years ago an alphabet based on the spiritualistic alphabet was applied to the successive gusts of wind of a stormy autumn day, and the coincidences were astonishing. Whole sentences of a very significant character at times appeared to respond to the arbitrary standard. And in any case the conclusion that a noise, the cause of which is not yet understood, must be supernatural is a process of reasoningab ignorantia.—J. M. Buckley,Century.

“The writer once met, as he believed, a well-known and learned member of an English university who was really dying at a place more than a hundred miles distant from that in which he was seen.”

To determine whether or not it was a case of mistaken identity is very important, but no opportunity is given in the passage quoted. If it was a subjective impression, the coincidence would be curious and nothing else; and not more so than many coincidences in trifles, and many other circumstances absolutely disconnected, and many subjective impressions without any coincidences. Mr. Lang refers to the superstitious horror shown by a dog at the moment of a supposed apparition to his master. That the dog exhibited horror when his owner thought he saw an apparition may be readily believed. Any one familiar with dogs knows that nothing will terrify them more than a great appearance of alarm on the part of their masters without any visible cause. Of the same nature is the remark concerning the mysterious disturbances at the house of the Wesleys. “The mastiff was more afraid than any of the children.” The volatile imagination of children have never shown any great horror of the mysteries; they were sustained, too, by confidence in their parents. But the dog heard mysterious noises, which naturally greatly agitated him. Many persons fancy that mysterious noises that will appear to respond to questions, tomake raps or answer raps, conclusively prove that they are directed by intelligence. Sometimes they may, and the intelligence is quite likely to be of human origin; but the noises of atmospheric, chemical, or electrical origin may furnish astonishing coincidences, just as the fissures in the rocks are extremely difficult to be distinguished from hieroglyphics. Some years ago an alphabet based on the spiritualistic alphabet was applied to the successive gusts of wind of a stormy autumn day, and the coincidences were astonishing. Whole sentences of a very significant character at times appeared to respond to the arbitrary standard. And in any case the conclusion that a noise, the cause of which is not yet understood, must be supernatural is a process of reasoningab ignorantia.—J. M. Buckley,Century.

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Spiritual Culture—SeeAppreciation, Spiritual.

SPIRITUAL DECLENSION

“Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” issued from the consecrated genius of Robert Robinson, a native of Norfolk, England, who was converted under Whitefield’s powerful preaching, and himself became a minister of the gospel.It was while on a stage journey once, in company with an unknown lady passenger, that he heard her begin singing the above lyric to divert her attention, when he said to her: “Madam, I am the unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago; and I would give a thousand worlds if I had them, if I could feel as I felt then.” (Text.)

It was while on a stage journey once, in company with an unknown lady passenger, that he heard her begin singing the above lyric to divert her attention, when he said to her: “Madam, I am the unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago; and I would give a thousand worlds if I had them, if I could feel as I felt then.” (Text.)

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Spiritual Development—SeeMoods of the Spirit.

SPIRITUAL GUNNERY

After carefully loading his gun for the kind of game which seems to require his immediate and special attention, the spiritual gunner should be sure to take particularly good aim at it. A good aim is an essential to success. The gunner who aims at nothing in particular, who closes both eyes and fires at random, will hit nothing in particular, unless it be by accident, and will receive no commendation for his skill. In fact, he is very apt to hit what he does not wish to hit, and what he will do more harm than good by hitting. Again, in these days sin and sinners—the game the spiritual gunner is after—are so uncommonly lively that they must be hit on the wing, if hit at all. The spiritual gunner must, therefore, learn to aim accurately at “arm’s length,” and quickly. If he trusts to a “dead rest” aim, the game will be very apt to get out of range before his gun goes off, and his work and ammunition will both be wasted—and that is not creditable to a gunner. Long-range shooting should also be avoided, and the gunner should quietly work his way as near as possible to his game and fire at the shortest possible range. A well-loaded gun, fired at short-range and with steady aim, will generally hit the mark and do execution.—The Evangelist.

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The spiritual gunner who has a reasonably fair appreciation of his important and responsible business will not try to use the same kind of gun for all kinds of game. He will adapt his gun to the kind of game he has specially in view, and he will always have in view game of some kind if he is anxious to become “a mighty hunter before the Lord.” He will not bring out a loaded Armstrong, or Columbiad, or Gatling for very small game and reserve his smallest arms for game of the largest and most dangerous kind if he wishes to bear home any trophies of his working skill. Every professional gunner—every pulpit gunner especially—who wishes to do efficient work will not only have large guns and small guns ready loaded, where he can lay his hands on them at once, but will know just when and how to use each kind. He will also be careful not to use kicking guns and overloaded guns, which always do a great deal more harm to those behind them than they do to those just in front. A gun that shoots straight ahead without much scattering, instead of backward or sideways, that is well aimed, and that carries true to its aim, is the only gun for the spiritual hunter, whether it be large or small.—The Evangelist.

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SPIRITUAL NOBILITY

A touching tribute to one of nature’s noblewomen appeared in thePall Mall Gazette:

She walks unnoticed in the street.The casual eyeSees nothing in her fair or sweet.The world goes byUnconscious that an angel’s feetAre passing nigh.She little has of beauty’s wealth,Truth will allow;Only her priceless youth and health,Her broad, white brow;Yet grows she on the heart by stealth,I scarce know how.She does a thousand kindly thingsThat no one knows.A loving woman’s heart she bringsTo human woes,And to her face the sunlight clingsWhere’er she goes.And so she walks her quiet waysWith that contentThat only comes to sinless daysAnd innocent.A life devoid of fame or praise,Yet nobly spent. (Text.)

She walks unnoticed in the street.The casual eyeSees nothing in her fair or sweet.The world goes byUnconscious that an angel’s feetAre passing nigh.

She walks unnoticed in the street.

The casual eye

Sees nothing in her fair or sweet.

The world goes by

Unconscious that an angel’s feet

Are passing nigh.

She little has of beauty’s wealth,Truth will allow;Only her priceless youth and health,Her broad, white brow;Yet grows she on the heart by stealth,I scarce know how.

She little has of beauty’s wealth,

Truth will allow;

Only her priceless youth and health,

Her broad, white brow;

Yet grows she on the heart by stealth,

I scarce know how.

She does a thousand kindly thingsThat no one knows.A loving woman’s heart she bringsTo human woes,And to her face the sunlight clingsWhere’er she goes.

She does a thousand kindly things

That no one knows.

A loving woman’s heart she brings

To human woes,

And to her face the sunlight clings

Where’er she goes.

And so she walks her quiet waysWith that contentThat only comes to sinless daysAnd innocent.A life devoid of fame or praise,Yet nobly spent. (Text.)

And so she walks her quiet ways

With that content

That only comes to sinless days

And innocent.

A life devoid of fame or praise,

Yet nobly spent. (Text.)

(3043)

SPIRITUAL PERTURBATION

After Bunyan’s marriage the record of the next few years is like a nightmare, so terrible is his spiritual struggle. One day he feels himself an outcast; the next the companion of angels; the third he tries experiments with the Almighty in order to put his salvation to the proof. As he goes along the road to Bedford he thinks he will work a miracle, like Gideon with his fleece. He will say to the little puddles of water in the horses’ tracks, “Be ye dry”; and to all the dry tracks he will say, “Be ye puddles.” As he is about to perform the miracle a thought occurs to him. “But go first under yonder hedge and pray that the Lord will make you able to perform a miracle.” He goes promptly and prays. Then he is afraid of the test, and goes on his way more troubled than before.After years of such struggle, chased about between heaven and hell, Bunyan at last emerges into a saner atmosphere, even as Pilgrim came out of the horrible Valley of the Shadow. Soon, led by his intense feelings, he becomes an open-air preacher, and crowds of laborers gather about him on the village green. They listen in silence to his words; they end in groans and tears; scores of them amend their sinful lives.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

After years of such struggle, chased about between heaven and hell, Bunyan at last emerges into a saner atmosphere, even as Pilgrim came out of the horrible Valley of the Shadow. Soon, led by his intense feelings, he becomes an open-air preacher, and crowds of laborers gather about him on the village green. They listen in silence to his words; they end in groans and tears; scores of them amend their sinful lives.—William J. Long, “English Literature.”

(3044)

Spiritual Power the True Estimate—SeeMeasurement, Spiritual.

SPIRITUAL VALUES

Jesus asked, “How much is a man better than a sheep?” Here are some estimates:

The deepest needs of the world are spiritual needs. One man invested $100,000 in India. It resulted in the conversion of 50,000 in that district—one soul saved for every two dollars invested. Christ’s standard of greatness was service. On the Kongo a man’s value is estimated in cattle; on the Hudson, in social standing; but by the river of life, by what he is, and the standard is helpfulness.

(3045)

SPIRITUALITY, RATIONAL

On some clear evening when the stars shrink back before the pathway of the ascending moon, and night is almost transformed to day, we are moved to admiration and pleasure; yet all this attractive light, focused to the smallest compass, could not dissolve the most delicate petal of frost or melt the tiniest snowflake.

Such is science without sentiment, the intellect without the heart, religion without spirituality. But on the other hand, the true church is one which combines both; which is purely rational, yet deeply religious; which is perfectly tolerant and catholic; which yet extends its fraternal hand to the needy, opprest, and downtrodden of every class; which is bound to no creed whatsoever, but is genuinely, rationally, vitally spiritual.—George C. Cressey.

(3046)

SPRING AS TYPE OF LIFE

When I am gone, somehow I hope that springWill typify my life, my optimism,My hope of victory through the years,My nerve of step, my clear and visioned eye.The early flowers, the robins singing inThe rain (may they not sing since they have wings?),The increasing light, the slowly opening buds,The almond blooms, the trees in vernal dressAre like the silver crown upon my head:A prophecy of heaven’s summer time.Yes, when I die, it shall be springtime thenOf my great immortality.When I am gone, let men say, He was always young;Not even Sorrow, with his ruthless plow;Nor base ingratitude, nor brothers false,Nor slander’s venomed tooth, nor poverty,Could rend rude furrows in his springlike soulThat soon arrayed itself with lovely vinesAnd fragrant flowers that added beauties newTo one who, ripe in years, knew not old age.—Western Christian Advocate.

When I am gone, somehow I hope that spring

Will typify my life, my optimism,

My hope of victory through the years,

My nerve of step, my clear and visioned eye.

The early flowers, the robins singing in

The rain (may they not sing since they have wings?),

The increasing light, the slowly opening buds,

The almond blooms, the trees in vernal dress

Are like the silver crown upon my head:

A prophecy of heaven’s summer time.

Yes, when I die, it shall be springtime then

Of my great immortality.

When I am gone, let men say, He was always young;Not even Sorrow, with his ruthless plow;Nor base ingratitude, nor brothers false,Nor slander’s venomed tooth, nor poverty,Could rend rude furrows in his springlike soulThat soon arrayed itself with lovely vinesAnd fragrant flowers that added beauties newTo one who, ripe in years, knew not old age.—Western Christian Advocate.

When I am gone, let men say, He was always young;

Not even Sorrow, with his ruthless plow;

Nor base ingratitude, nor brothers false,

Nor slander’s venomed tooth, nor poverty,

Could rend rude furrows in his springlike soul

That soon arrayed itself with lovely vines

And fragrant flowers that added beauties new

To one who, ripe in years, knew not old age.

—Western Christian Advocate.

(3047)

SPRINGS FROM GOD

You remember the masonry in Prospect Park (Brooklyn), built to hold that huge bank in its place? Well, when that solid wall was completed, a hidden spring broke out, and the walls moved and cracked. Pulling the masonry down a second time, it was again rebuilt. This time a little drain tube and faucet were put in. But the mouth became stopt up, and a second time the pressure of the hidden waters moved the wall. Then another tube and pipe were put through the wall. What was the power that put such immeasurable pressure upon masonry and moved it? It was the hidden water—silently, steadily, irresistibly, crowding all before it. To-day the hidden waters may manifest themselves through one tube, and to-morrow they may gush through another tube, but the power is in the water and the reservoir behind it, and not in the tube through which it appears. And that power that lifted the Hebrew slaves and swept them forward and buoyed them up, now revealed itself through the lips of Moses, and now speaks through the life of Joshua, transforming the people, is not in Moses, nor in Joshua, it is in God.—N. D. Hillis.

(3048)

Salvation is by character, but character is the gift of God. Far up on the northeastern coast of Maine there is a little spring; through all the hours of a sunny afternoon it poured its crystal flood that ran singing toward the sea. Then, the briny sea turned to a salt the spring. The waves with their bitterness came in and buried it, and the sweet water seemed lost forever. Then in the eastern sky God hung His orb of light, and silently by that invisible pull, and with its secret voice it called to the waves of salt, and drew back the briny flood with its mire and filth, that ebbed away, and lo, the little spring flowed on, fed by the pure fountains on the hillside far above the ocean’s brine. And the soul’s life comes down from the mountains, where its hidden springs are in God. Aspiration, hope and love gush on forever pure. Temptations may rise, like the tide. Troubles, ingratitudes and hatreds may sweep on like hungry waves, the world may cast up its mire, but soon these troubles will recede, and leave the spring of life within the soul, to gush forth once more. It is the river of God, the well that springs up into everlasting life.—N. D. Hillis.

(3049)

SPRINGS OF LIFE

In ancient pagan religions there was a peculiar sacredness attached to running water in springs or rivers. The famous oracle of Delphi was beside the Castalian spring; and in the haunted grotto of Egeria, inspired by the murmurs of its beautiful fountain, the first king of Rome received from the celestial nymph the laws and the religious rites which he imparted to the primitive community. Rivers in prehistoric times were everywhere worshiped; shrines were erected on their banks, and they had priests of their own. Men swore by them, for the spirit of the waters could drown those who proved false to their word; and the most awful form of oath is that which the Hindu still takes who swears by a divine river more sacred even than the Ganges—of which the Ganges is only an earthly manifestation. The office of the Hebrew prophets received its name in the original from a root signifying the bursting forth and the overflowing of a copious fountain. As the spring bursts forth from the heart of the rock in full flood, so the inspiration of God bursts forth from the heart of the prophet. This origin of the name would indicate that springs and rivers were at first chosen as the medium of a divine revelation—The Quiver.

(3050)

Spurious Virtue—SeePretense.

Stage to Pulpit—SeeEvangelism, Unusual.

STAGNANCY

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