The CELESTIAL Spirit of the Lord's Prayer - Part 1

EXCERPT FROM THE KINDLE EBOOK: 
THE LORD’S PRAYER, Its Spirit and its Teaching.By Octavius Winslow, 1866

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"Our Father, which art in heaven." Matthew 6:9

There are three points of view in which the invocation of the Lord's Prayer may be considered. I have already considered the first two--the PATERNAL and the BROTHERLY. It remains that we consider the third one--the CELESTIAL. "Our Father, which art in heaven." It was to heaven, where God is, and from whence He came, that Christ sought to uplift the hearts of His disciples. The earthward tendency of the renewed mind, even amid the solemn engagement of prayer, He, from whom no thought of the heart is concealed, perfectly knew. Who among the most spiritually-minded has not complained of the undevoutness of heart, the vagrancy of mind, the foolish imaginations, and probably skeptical thoughts which so often obtrude upon the believer when he would sincerely enter his closet and shut the door about him and be alone with God? At the very moment when, unclasping and uplifting the pinions of his soul, he would sincerely rise in faith and love and fellowship, he finds himself encompassed and assailed by a legion of mundane, atheistical, graceless thoughts and affections, which fetter the soul, stifle its aspirations, distract its meditations, and arrest its flight.

What an impediment, also, to real, spiritual prayer does the believer find in the tendency of his mind to lose sight of God's Dwelling. True, solemnly true, God's presence is everywhere; yet, while earth is His footstool, heaven is His dwelling-place. And where He is, there would He have the heart and mind of His supplicating child travel and repose. Hence the emphatic declaration of our Lord--"Our Father, which art in HEAVEN." Let this be the truth which now engages our study.

In ascribing location to God--in portraying heaven as His dwelling--we must not forget, as I have just remarked, one of the most solemn and, to the Christian mind, most sanctifying and consolatory truths, that there is not a place nor a spot in the vast universe where God is not. His presence pervades all space, engirdles the globe, brightens the bowers of heaven, darkens the caverns of hell. Who can hide himself from God? What mountain can cover, what rock conceal, what darkness veil the soul from His sight? "Where shall I go from Your Spirit? or where shall I flee from Your presence?" Saint of God! can you not in truth exclaim, "Lord! where would I flee from Your presence? Flee from Your presence! it is my heaven below, and it is all the heaven I expect or wish for above! 

If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall Your hand lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me." Child of God! take the divine consolation of this truth. Where can you be where Christ will not be with you? Are you anticipating a new and untried stage of life? Are you about to relinquish the ties of home, perhaps of country, for a distant climate, to be exiled amid strangers, to battle with a new position of toil, temptation, and peril? Oh, let your child--like faith now grasp this great and precious truth, which shall be for your stay, strength, and comfort in all places where God conducts you--"Even there shall Your hand lead me, and Your right hand hold me." 

The promise is, "My presence shall go with you, and I will give you rest." Go, then, beloved, leaning upon this divine staff, and it shall be well with you for time and for eternity. Other staffs, the beautiful and strong, may break; other props, the near and loved, may fail; but your covenant God in Christ will never leave nor forsake you. Go, then, where He leads you; pitch your tent in India or in China, in Australia, or in America, within that tent He will dwell, above and around it He will spread the wings of His power and love; and in all your engagements and difficulties, loneliness and want, temptations and sorrows you shall be enabled to exclaim, "Nevertheless I am continually with you--You have held me by my right hand. You shall guide me with Your counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but You? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside You."

And yet our Father has His FIXED and appropriate dwelling-place. The Scriptures of truth represent heaven as His abode. At the dedication of the temple, Solomon uses this language, "But will God indeed dwell on earth? behold, the heaven, and heaven of heavens, cannot contain You." And we have the prayer of the prophet Isaiah confirming this truth--"Look down from heaven, and behold from the habitation of Your holiness and of Your glory." And to crown these statements we have the declaration of Jehovah himself--"Heaven is My throne, and earth is My footstool."

We must suppose, then, that the highest heavens--sometimes called the "heaven of heavens," and "the third heaven"--is the place of God's dwelling. The "third heaven," into which the apostle in his rapture ascended, is a remarkable expression. The Jews were used to speak of the lower world, the middle world, and the supreme world. The lower heaven includes the aerial world immediately over us--the clouds and the atmosphere. The central heaven embraces the skies above it--the sun, the moon, and the stars. The supreme or third heaven is the highest of all, the supposed seat of the Divine Majesty, the region where God dwells, where Christ, seated at the right hand of the Father, conducts His intercessory work, and where the glorified saints are gathered--whose wonders Paul saw, whose music he heard, whose joy he felt but who, on returning to earth, was forbidden by God to communicate what he had seen and heard and felt of the invisible world.

Surely if God had permitted any knowledge to be conveyed to man of the place and condition of the departed spirits; if communion had been allowed between the dead and the living, we might suppose that this occasion would have demonstrated the fact. And yet the veil was not uplifted, and the silence of the apostle's lips was unbroken. Not one of the countless millions who have been received up into heaven have ever been permitted to revisit earth with communications concerning its glories. So fixed is the law, so settled the principle that has ever, on this point, regulated the Divine conduct. It would seem as if God would anticipate and confound the daring imposture of Mohammed, and of every other pseudo-prophet, and forever demonstrate the essential difference between true and false inspiration; causing to stand out in bold relief the dignified silence of the great apostle of the Gentiles, in contrast with the contemptible puerilities of the profane prophet of Mecca.

The inquiry which, doubtless, arises in many minds WHY Paul was forbidden to make known what he had seen in heaven, may be more speculative than profitable to pursue. My own conviction, however, is, that God would allow nothing to transpire calculated to lessen the dignity, sufficiency, and importance of His written Word in the eyes of men. A revelation other than that which, by Divine Inspiration, He had already given, would he most assuredly attended with this inevitable result. "But surely," you reply, "to have known more of heaven, more of the glories of paradise, more of what awaits the righteous, would have been useful in solving the doubts, confirming the faith, animating the hope, and soothing the trials, affliction, and sorrow of the saints on their way through much darkness and tribulation, to the celestial world."

Not so! Let God be the judge. If the present divine revelations of the heavenly world sometimes dazzle and confound us, how should we, in this imperfect state, be able to compass a fuller and more overpowering discovery? And if the doubt will sometimes arise, though the revelations are divine, what would be our unbelief of revelations predicated only upon the human? Enough, also, is made known of heaven to give us a clear and intelligent idea of its negative and its positive bliss. It suffices us to be assured that sin is annihilated, that tears are dried, that disease is banished, that pain is unfelt, that death is destroyed, that parting is unknown, that rest is enjoyed, and that peace, fellowship, and love reign universally and forever. In addition to these 'negative aspects' of heaven, there are the 'positive elements' of bliss.

With Jesus, forever beholding His glory. Blessed with the "glorious company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets, the noble army of martyrs," encircled by time "spirits of just men made perfect," and reunited to all that we loved on earth and parted in death in the hope of eternal life. Is not this enough to support us in trial, to soothe us in sorrow, to animate us in duty, and to fortify us against temptation and sin? Will not this suffice to endure suffering patiently, to hear the cross cheerfully, and to mitigate the grief of parting; remembering that, "our light affliction which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory?"

Once more, in anticipation of the eternal heaven, this everlasting rest, our Father would have us live a life of FAITH. The sight, the fullness is to come; until then we are to take God at His word, believe all that He has revealed and promised, and live and die as did the worthies of old, of whom it is written, that, "not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."

Soon heaven will be entirely revealed and fully known. Before the sun, which ascended upon us in rosy beams in the morning, shall set in a flood of gold and purple at night, we may fall asleep in Jesus, and wake up amid heaven's unclouded and eternal splendor. Ecstatic thought! entrancing prospect! Absent from flesh, forever with the Lord! What! shall I soon see Jesus? Will the great, the solemn, the glorious mystery which so long absorbed my affections, awakened my desires, engaged my earnest thoughts, and occupied my dearest study, be all explained? Will the grand secret be soon revealed? Oh, for the pinions of the dove, that I might fly into His presence, fall at His feet, wake my harp to His praise, and repose in that ineffable bosom on which I have so often sobbed my griefs, and which once sobbed and bled for me.

THE CHAPTERS IN THIS BOOK ARE AS FOLLOW:

The Filial Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Brotherly Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Celestial Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Reverential Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Submissive Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Dependent Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Penitential Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Forgiving Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Watchful Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Devotional Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

The Adoring Spirit of the Lord’s Prayer

Christmas After Christmas Day - J. R. Miller

What becomes of Christmas, when the day is gone? 

It is the gladdest day of the year. It is celebrated in all Christian lands. The churches observe it, sometimes with great pomp and splendor, with stately music and elaborate ceremonial, sometimes in simple, homely worship. It is kept in homes, with happy greetings and good wishes, and universal giving of gifts. Everyone, even the miser, grows generous at the Christmas time. Men who are ordinarily cold and unmoved toward human need, wax warm-hearted in these glad days. People everywhere rise to a high tide of kindly feeling. There is scarcely a home anywhere, however lowly, which the Christmas sentiment does not reach with its kindliness. Public institutions—orphanages, hospitals, homes, prisons, refuges, reformatories—all feel themselves touched as by a breath of heaven, for the one day.

What becomes of all the joy when Christmas is over? Does it stay in the life of the community afterward? Do we have it in our homes the next day and the next week? Do we feel it in the atmosphere of our churches? Does it stay in the hearts of people in general? Do the carols sing on next day? Does the generous kindness continue in the people's hearts? Does the love in homes rich and poor abide through the winter?

Two or three years ago, in one of our cities, an Oriental was giving his impressions of our American Christmas. He said that for weeks before Christmas, people's faces seemed to have an unusual light in them. They were all bright and shining. Everyone seemed unusually kindly and courteous. Everyone was more thoughtful, more desirous of giving pleasure than had been his accustomed. Men who at other season of the year had been stern, unapproachable, were now genial, hearty, easy to approach. Those who ordinarily were stingy, not responding to calls for charity, had become, for the time, generous and charitable. Those who had been in the habit of doing base things, when they entered the warm Christmas zone seemed like new men, as if a new spirit possessed them. And the Oriental said it would be a good thing if all the charm of the Christmas spirit, could be made to project itself into the New Year.

This is really the problem to be solved. Christmas ought not to be one day only in the year—it should be all the days through the year. We may as well confess that the solution has not yet been realized. Almost immediately after Christmas, we fall back into a selfish way of living which is far below the high tide to which we rose at Christmas. There is a picture which shows the scene of our Lord's crucifixion in the afternoon of that terrible day. The crowd is gone, the crosses are empty, and all is silent. In the background is seen a donkey nibbling at a piece of withered palm branch. This was all that was left of the joy and enthusiasm of Psalm Sunday.

Is it not much the same with the beautiful life of Christmas? Five days afterward, will not the world have gone back to its old coldness, selfishness, and hardness? Will not the newspapers have resumed the story of wrong, injustice, greed, and crime, just as if there had been no Christmas, with its one day's peace and good will? Shall we not have again about us, within a few days, the old competition, wrangling, strife and bitterness among men? The sweet flowers of Christmas will soon be found trampled in the dust by the same feet which, this Christmas, are standing by the cradle of the Christ-child.

How can we keep the Christmas spirit with us after the day has passed on the calendar? We cannot legislate a continuation of Christmas good will. We cannot extend it by passing resolutions. We cannot hold it in the world's life by lecturing and exhorting on the subject. Yet there ought to be some way of making Christmas last more than one day. It is too beautiful to be allowed to fade out after only one brief day's stay in the world. What can we do to extend it? We can begin by keeping the beautiful vision in our own life.

There is a story of a young woman who had been with an outing party all day. In the morning, as she left her home, almost unconsciously she had slipped a branch of sweetbrier into her dress. She altogether forgot that it was there. All day, wherever she went with her friends, she and others smelled the spicy fragrance—but none knew whence it came. Yet that night, when she went to her room there was the handful of sweetbrier tucked away in her dress, where she had put it in the morning, and where, unconsciously, she had carried it all day.

The secret was revealed. It is when we have the sweetness in our own life, that we begin to be a sweetener of other lives. We cannot depend upon others for our Christ-likeness, but if we have it in our own heart we will impart it to those about us. We cannot find sweetness on every path that our feet must press. Sometimes we must be among uncongenial people, people whose lives are not loving, with whom it is not easy to live cordially in close relations. The only way to be sure of making all our course in life a path of sweetness is to have the fragrance in ourselves. Then on bleakest roads, where not a flower blooms, we still shall walk in perfumed air—the perfume being in our hearts. It is our own heart which makes our world. We find everywhere what we take with us. If our lives are gentle, patient, loving—we find gentleness, patience, lovingness everywhere. But if our hearts are bitter, jealous, suspicious—we find bitterness, jealousy, suspicion, on every path.

Shall we not strive to make Christmas a continual festival, and not merely the festival of one day? This does not mean a constant celebration of the outer life of Christmas—but a continuance of its spirit.

Henry Van Dyke puts it thus: "Are you willing to stoop down to consider the needs and the desires of little children; to remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old; to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough; to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear in mind—the things that other people have to bear on their hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same house with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke; to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open? Are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas."

And when we are doing these things every day, Christmas will have fulfilled its mission

Xmas - by A. W. Pink

Xmas

by A. W. Pink
 

"Thus says the Lord—Do not learn the way of the heathen...for the CUSTOMS of the people are vain." Jeremiah 10:1-3

Christmas is coming! Quite so—but what is "Christmas?" Does not the very term itself denote it's source— "Christ-mass." Thus it is of Roman origin, brought over from paganism. But, says someone, Christmas is the time when we commemorate the Savior's birth. It is? And WHO authorized such commemoration? Certainly God did not. The Redeemer bade His disciples "remember" Him in His death, but there is not a word in scripture, from Genesis to Revelation, which tells us to celebrate His birth. Moreover, who knows when, in what month, He was born? The Bible is silent thereon. It is without reason that the only "birthday" commemorations mentioned in God's Word are Pharaoh's (Gen. 40:20) and Herod's (Matt. 14:6)? Is this recorded "for our learning?" If so, have we prayerfully taken it to heart?

And WHO is it that celebrates "Christmas?" The whole "civilized world." Millions who make no profession of faith in the blood of the Lamb, who "despise and reject Him," and millions more who while claiming to be His followers yet in works deny Him—join in merrymaking under the pretense of honoring the birth of the Lord Jesus. Putting it on it's lowest ground, we would ask, is it fitting that Christ's friends should unite with His enemies in a worldly round of fleshly gratification? Does any true born-again soul really think that He whom the world cast out is either pleased or glorified by such participation in the world's joys? Truly, the customs of the people are VAIN! It is written, "You shall not follow a multitude to do evil" (Exodus 23:2).

Happy Holidays & Be Safe Guys!

Some will argue for the "keeping of Christmas" on the ground of "giving the kiddies a good time." But why do this under the cloak of honoring the Savior's birth? Why is it necessary to drag in His holy name in connection with what takes place at that season of carnal jollification? Is this taking the little one with you—OUT of Egypt (Ex. 10:9-10) a type of the world—or is it not plainly a mingling with the present day Egyptians in their "pleasures of sin for a season?" (Heb. 11:25) Scripture says, "Train up a child in the way he should go—and when he is old, he will not depart from it" (Proverbs 22:6). Scripture does command God's people to bring up their children "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord" (Eph. 6:4), but where does it stipulate that it is our duty to give the little one a "good time?" Do we ever give the children "a good time" when we engage in anything upon which we cannot fittingly ask THE LORD'S blessing?

There are those who DO abstain from some of the grosser carnalities of the "festive season," yet are they nevertheless in cruel bondage to the prevailing custom of "Christmas", namely that of exchanging "gifts." We say "exchanging", for that is what it really amounts to in many cases. A list is kept, either on paper or in memory, of those from whom gifts were received last year, and that for the purpose of returning the compliment this year. Nor is this all—great care has been taken that the "gift" made to the friend is worth as much in dollars and cents as the one they expect to receive from him or her. Thus, with many who can ill afford it, a considerable sum has to be set aside each year with which to purchase things simply to send them out in RETURN for others which are likely to be received. Thus a burden has been bound on them which not a few find hard to bear.

But what are we to do? If we fail to send out "gifts" our friends will think hard of us, probably deem us stingy and miserly. The honest course is to go to the trouble of notifying them—by letter if at a distance—that from now on you do not propose to send out any more "Christmas gifts" as such. Give your reasons. State plainly that you have been brought to see that "Christmas merrymaking" is entirely a thing OF THE WORLD, devoid of any Scriptural warrant; that it is a Romish institution, and now that you see this—you dare no longer have any fellowship with it (Eph. 5:11); that you are the Lord's "free man" (1 Cor. 7:22), and therefore you refuse to be in bondage to a costly custom imposed by the world.

What about sending out "Christmas cards" with a text of Scripture on them? That also is an abomination in the sight of God. Why? Because His Word expressly forbids all unholy mixtures; Deut. 22:10-11 typified this. What do we mean by an "unholy mixture?" This—the linking together of the pure Word of God with the Romish "Christ-MASS." By all means send cards (preferably at some other time of the year) to your ungodly friends, and Christians too, with a verse of Scripture—but NOT with "Christmas" on it. What would you think of a printed program of vaudeville, having Isaiah 53:5 at the foot of it? Why, that it was altogether OUT OF PLACE, and highly incongruous. But in the sight of God—the circus and the theater are far less obnoxious than the "Christmas celebration" of Romish and Protestant "churches." Why? Because the latter are done under the cover of the holy name of Christ—the former are not.

"But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shines more and more unto perfect day" (Proverbs 4:18). Where there is a heart that really desires to please the Lord, He graciously grants increasing knowledge of His will. If He is pleased to use these lines in opening the eyes of some of His dear people to recognize what is a growing evil, and to show them that they have been dishonoring Christ by linking the name of the Man of Sorrows (and such He WAS, when on earth) with a "MERRY Christmas," then join with the writer in a repentant confessing of this sin to God, seeking His grace for complete deliverance from it, and praise Him for the light which He has granted you concerning it.

Beloved fellow-Christian, "The coming of the Lord draws near" (Jas. 5:8). Do we really believe this? Believe it not because the Papacy is regaining its lost temporal power, but because GOD says so—"for we walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Cor. 5:7). If so, what effects does such believing have on our walk? This may be your last Christmas on earth. During it, the Lord may descend from heaven with a shout to gather His own to Himself. Would you like to be summoned from a "Christmas party"—to meet Him in the air? The call for the moment is "Go you OUT to meet Him" (Matt. 25:6) out from a Godless Christendom, out from the horrible burlesque of "religion" which now masquerades under His name.

"For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that everyone may receive the things done in his body, according to that he has done, whether it be good or bad" (2 Cor. 5:10). How solemn and searching! The Lord Jesus declared that "every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment" (Matt. 12:36). If every "idle word" is going to be taken note of, then most assuredly will be every wasted energy, every wasted dollar, every wasted hour! Should we still be on earth when the closing days of this year arrive, let writer and reader earnestly seek grace to live and act with the judgment seat of Christ before us. HIS "well done" will be ample compensation for the sneers and taunts which we may now receive from Christless souls.

Does any Christian reader imagine for a moment that when he or she shall stand before their holy Lord, that they will regret having lived "too strictly" on earth? Is there the slightest danger of His reproving any of His own because they were "too extreme" in "abstaining from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul" (1 Peter 2:11)? We may gain the good will and good works of worldly religionists today, by our compromising on "little points," but shall we receive His smile and approval on that day? Oh to be more concerned about what HE thinks, and less concerned about what perishing mortals think.

"You shall not follow a multitude to do evil" (Ex. 23:2). Ah, it is an easy thing to float with the tide of popular opinion; but it takes much grace, diligently sought from God, to swim against it. Yet that is what the heir of heaven is called on to do—to "Be not conformed to this world" (Romans 12:2), to deny self, take up the cross, and follow a rejected Christ. How sorely does both writer and reader need to heed that word of the Savior, "Behold, I come quickly; hold that fast to that which you have, that no man take your crown" (Rev. 3:11). Oh that each of us may be able to truthfully say, "I have refrained my feet from EVERY evil way, that I might keep YOUR WORD" (Psalm 119:101).

Our final word is to the pastors. To you the Word of the Lord is, "You should be an example to the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity" (1 Tim. 4:12). Is it not true, that the most corrupt "churches" you know of, where almost every fundamental of the faith is denied, will have their "Christmas celebrations?" Will you imitate them? Are you consistent to protest against unscriptural methods of "raising money," and then to sanction unscriptural "Christmas services?" Seek grace to firmly but lovingly set God's truth on this subject before your people, and announce that you can have no part in following Pagan, Romish, and worldly customs!

The Christmas Party - Timothy Shay Arthur, 1854 - Part 2

..."Thanks for mere carnal pleasure!"

"All things are good that are filled with good affections," said Grace. "We are in a natural world, where all pleasure and pain affect us in the natural degree most sensibly. We must come down, that we may go up. We must let our natural joy and gladness have free course, innocently, that they may be changed into a joy that is higher and spiritual. Is it not so, uncle?"

Now, the old man had not expected to find such an intelligent head on so young a body; nor did he expect to be called upon to answer a question, which came in a form that he was not prepared either to negative or affirm. He had put all natural pleasures under the ban, as flowing from the carnal mind; and, therefore, evil. As to filling natural pleasures with spiritual life, that was a new position in theology. He had preached against natural pleasures as evil, and, therefore, to be abandoned by all who would lead a heavenly life. Before he could collect his thoughts for an answer satisfactory to himself, two or three ladies gathered around them, and he discreetly forebore to make any further remarks on the subject. But he felt, as may be supposed, very uncomfortable.

After the first set was danced, one of the young ladies who had been on the floor, and who had previously been introduced to the old gentleman by Grace, came, with color heightened by excitement, and her beautiful face in a glow of pleasure, and sat down by his side. Mr. Archer would have received her with becoming gravity, had it been in his power to, do so; but the smile on her face was so innocent, and she bent towards him so kindly and affectionately, that he could not find it in his heart to meet her with even a silent reproof. This young lady was really charming his ear, when a gentleman came up to her, and said —

"Anna, I want you to dance with me."

"With pleasure," replied the girl. "You will excuse me for a while, Mr. Archer," said she, and she was about rising as she spoke, but the old man placed his hand upon her arm, and gently detained her.

"You're not going to leave me?"

"No, not if my company will give you any pleasure," replied the young girl, with a gentle smile. "Please excuse me." This she addressed to the person who had asked her to dance. He bowed, and turned away.

"I am glad to keep you by my side," said Mr. Archer, with some seriousness in his manner.

"And I am glad to stay here," was promptly answered, "if my company will give you any pleasure. It does me good to contribute to others' happiness."

The old man was touched by this reply, for he felt that it was from the heart. It sounded strangely to his ears from the lips of one who had just been whirling in the mazy dance.

"There is no real pleasure in anything selfish," he remarked. "Yes, you say truly, it does us good to contribute to the happiness of others."

"For this reason," said Anna, "I like dancing as a social recreation. It is a mutual pleasure. We give and receive enjoyment."

The old minister's face grew serious.

"I have been to three or four parties," continued the young girl, "where dancing was excluded, under some strange idea that it was wrong — and I must say that so much evil-speaking and censoriousness, it has never been my lot to encounter in any company. The time, instead of being improved as a season of mental and bodily recreation — was worse than wasted. I know that I was worse instead of better, on returning from each of these companies, for I insensibly fell into the prevailing spirit."

"That was very bad, certainly," remarked Mr. Archer, before whose mind arose some pictures of social gatherings, in which had prevailed the very spirit condemned by his young companion. "But I don't see how you are going to make dancing a sovereign remedy for the evil."

"It is not a sovereign remedy," was answered, "but it is a concert of feeling and action, in which the mind is exhilarated, and in which a mutual good-will is produced. You cannot dance without being pleased, to a greater or less extent, with your partners on the floor. Very often have I had a prejudice against people wear off as we moved together in the dances, and I have afterwards discovered in them good qualities to which I was before blinded."

"Uncle," said Grace to the old man, just at this moment, bending to his ear as she spoke, and taking his hand in hers — "come! I want to show you something."

Grace drew him into the adjoining parlor, where another set was on the floor. Two children, her younger brother and sister, were in it.

"Now, just look at Ada and Willy," whispered Grace in his ear, as she brought him in view of the young dancers. Ada was a lovely child, and the old uncle's heart had already taken her in. She was a graceful little dancer, and moved in the figures with the lightness of a fairy. It was a beautiful sight, and in the face of all the prejudices which half a century had worn into him, he felt that it was beautiful. As he looked upon it, he could keep the dimness from his eyes only by a strong effort.

"Is there evil in that, uncle?" asked Grace, drawing her arm within that of the old man's.

"Is it good?" he replied.

"Yes; it is good," said Grace, emphatically, as she lifted her eyes to his.

Mr. Archer did not dispute her words. He at least felt that it was not evil, though he could not admit that it was good.

In spite of the dancing, which soon ceased to offend the good old man, he passed a pleasant evening. Perhaps, he enjoyed the Christmas party as much as any one there.

Nothing was said, on the next day, by anyone, on the subject of dancing; though Mr. Archer, especially, thought a great deal about the matter. Some ideas had come into his mind that were new there, and he was pondering them attentively. On the third day of his arrival, he had a severe attack of rheumatism, from which he suffered great pain, besides a confinement to his room for a couple of weeks. During that time, the untiring devotion and tender solicitude of Grace touched the old man's heart deeply. When the pain had sufficiently abated to let his mind attain composure, she sought to interest him in various ways. Sometimes she would read to him by the hour; sometimes she would entertain him with cheerful conversation; and sometimes she would bring in one or two of her young friends whom he had met at the Christmas party.

With these, he had more than one discussion, in his sick room, on the subject of dancing, and the old minister found these mirthful young girls rather more than a match for him. During a discussion of this kind, Grace left the room. In her absence, one of her companions said to him —

"Grace is a good girl."

A quick light went over the old man's countenance; and he replied, with evident feeling —

"Good? Yes; I look at her, sometimes, and think her almost an angel."

"She dances."

The old man sighed.

"She is a Christian."

"I wish there were more such in the world," said he, unhesitatingly.

"And yet she dances."

"My dear child," said Mr. Archer, turning with an affectionate smile towards his young conversational partner, "don't take such an advantage of me in the argument."

"Then is it settled, a maiden may dance and yet be a Christian?"

"God bless you, and keep you from all the evil of the world," said the old man, fervently, as he took the young girl's hand and pressed it between his own. "It may be all right! it may be all right!"

Grace came back at the moment, and he ceased speaking.

From that time the venerable minister said no more on the subject, and it is but fair to believe that when he returned home, he had very serious doubts in regard to the sin of dancing, which had once been as fairly held as if it had been an article in the Confession of Faith.

THE END.

The Christmas Party - Timothy Shay Arthur, 1854 - Part 1

Christmas had come around again — merry old Christmas, with his smiling face and wealth of good cheer; and every preparation had been made by the Arlingtons for their annual Christmas party, which was always a mirthful time for the young friends of the family.

Some hundreds of miles away, in a quiet New-England village, lived Mr. Archer, an uncle of Mr. Arlington. He was a good man; but being a minister of the old school, and well advanced in years, he was strongly prejudiced against all "fashionable follies," as he called nearly every form of social recreation. Life was, in his eyes, too solemn a thing to be wasted in any kind of trifling. In preaching and praying, in pious meditation, and in going about to do good, much of his time was passed; and another portion of it was spent in reflecting upon and mourning over the thoughtless follies of the world. He had no time for pleasure-taking; no heart to smile at the passing foibles or merry humours of his fellow-men.

Such was the Rev. Jason Archer — a good man, but with his mind sadly warped through early prejudices, long confirmed. For years he had talked of a journey to the city where his niece, to whom he was much attached, resided. This purpose was finally carried out. It was the day before Christmas, when Mrs. Arlington received a letter from the old gentleman, announcing the fact that she might expect to see him in a few hours, as he was about starting to pay her and her family the long-intended visit.

"Uncle Archer will be here tomorrow," said Mrs. Arlington to her husband, as soon as she met him after receiving her letter.

"Indeed! And so the good old gentleman has made a move at last?"

"Yes; he's going to eat his Christmas dinner with us, he says."

"So much the better. The pleasure of meeting him will increase the joy of the occasion."

"I am not so sure of that," replied Mrs. Arlington, looking a little serious. "It would have been more pleasant to have received this visit at almost any other time in the year."

"Why so?"

"You know his strong prejudices?"

"Oh, against dancing, and all that?"

"Yes; he thinks it a sin to dance."

"Though I do not."

"No; but it will take away half my pleasure to see him grieved at anything that takes place in my house."

"He'll not be so weak as that."

"He thinks it sin, and will be sadly pained at its occurrence. Is it possible to omit dancing for once?"

"At the party tomorrow night?"

"Yes."

Mr. Arlington shook his head, as he replied —

"Don't think of such a thing. We will receive him with true kindness, because we feel it towards the good old man. But we must not cease to do what we know to be right, thus disappointing and marring the pleasure of many — out of deference to a mere prejudice of education in a single person. When we go to see him, we do not expect that any change will be made out of deference to our prejudices or peculiar opinions; and when he comes to see us, he must be willing to tolerate what takes place in our family, even if it does not meet his full approval. No, no; let us not think for a moment of any change in affairs on this account. Uncle Archer hasn't been present at a mirthful party nor seen dancing for almost half a century. It may do him good to witness it now. At any rate, I feel curious to see the experiment tried."

Mrs. Arlington still argued for a little yielding in favor of the good parson's prejudices, but her husband would not listen to such a thing for a moment. Everything, he said, must go on as usual.

"A guest who comes into a family," he remarked, "should always conform himself to the family order; then there is no reaction upon him, and all are comfortable and happy. He is not felt as a thing foreign and incongruous, but as homogeneous. To break up the usual order, and to bend all to meet his personal prejudices and peculiarities, is only to so disturb the family sphere as to make it actually repellent. He is then felt as an unassimilated foreign body, and all secretly desire his removal."

"But something is due to old age!" urged Mrs. Arlington.

"Yes; much. But, if age has not softened a man's prejudices against a good thing in itself, I doubt very much if a deference to his prejudice, such as you propose, will in the least benefit him. Better let him come in contact with a happy circle, exhilarated by music and dancing; and the chances are, that his heart will melt in the scene, rather than grow colder and harder. The fact is, as I think of it more and more, the better pleased am I that Uncle Archer is coming just at this time."

But Mrs. Arlington felt troubled about the matter. Early on Christmas morning, the old gentleman arrived, and was welcomed with sincere affection by every member of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Arlington had a daughter, named Grace, who was just entering her eighteenth year. She was gentle and affectionate in disposition, and drew to the side of Uncle Archer in a way that touched the old man's feelings. He had not seen her before this, since she was a little girl; and now, he could not keep his eyes off of her as she sat by him, or moved about the room in his presence.

"What a dear girl that is!" was his remark to her mother, many times through the day.

"She's a good girl," would simply reply Mrs. Arlington, speaking almost without thought. Grace was a good girl; her mother felt this, and from her heart, her lips found utterance.

It seemed, all through the day, that Grace could not do enough for the old man's comfort. Once she drew him into her room, as he was passing her door, to show him some pictures that she had painted. As he sat looking at them, he noticed a small, handsomely bound Bible on her table. Taking it up, he said —

"Do you read this, Grace?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, "every day." And there was such a light of goodness in her eyes, as she looked up into his face, that Mr. Archer felt, for a moment or two, as if the countenance of an angel was before him.

"Why do you read it?" he continued after a pause.

"It teaches us the way to Heaven," said Grace.

"And you are trying to live for Heaven?"

"I try to shun all evil as sin. Can I do more?"

All the minister's creeds, and doctrines, and confessions of faith, which he had ever considered the foundations upon which Christian life was to be built — seemed, for a moment or two, useless lumber before the simple creed of this loving, pure-hearted maiden. To seek to disturb this state of innocence and obedience, by moody polemics, he felt, instinctively, to be wrong.

"Perhaps not," was his half abstracted reply; "perhaps not. Yes, yes; shun what is evil, and the Lord will adjoin the good."

"Yes, yes; she is a good girl, as her mother says," was frequently repeated by Uncle Archer during the day, when he would think of Grace.

Evening came, and young and old began to gather in the parlors. The minister was introduced to one and another, as they arrived, and was much gratified with the respect and attention shown to him by all. Grace soon drew around him three or four of her young friends, who listened to what he had to say with an interest that gratified his feelings. Nothing had been said to Grace of her uncle's prejudice against dancing; she was, therefore, no little surprised to see the sudden change in his manner, when she said to a young lady in the group around him —

"Come! you must play some music for us. We're going to have a dance."

After going with the young lady to the piano, and opening it for her, Grace went back to her uncle, whose face she found deeply clouded.

"Aren't you well, uncle?" she asked, affectionately.

"Oh yes, child, I am well enough in body," was replied.

"But something troubles you, uncle — what is it?"

By this time a number of couples were on the floor, and at the moment, a young man came up to Grace, and said —

"Shall I have the pleasure of dancing with you this evening?"

"Not in the first set," replied Grace; "but I will consider myself engaged for the second, unless you can find a more agreeable partner."

"Do you dance, then?" asked Uncle Arthur, gravely, after the young man had turned away.

"Dance?" Grace was in doubt whether she had clearly understood him.

"Yes, dear."

"Certainly I do, uncle. You don't think there is harm in dancing?"

"I do, my child. And, I am sure that, after what you said about reading your Bible and trying to live for Heaven — your admission greatly surprises me. Religion and dancing! How can they have an affinity?"

"Good and evil can have no affinity," said Grace, in reply to this remark. "Evil, I have always understood to be in a purpose to do wrong. Now, I can dance with a good purpose; and, surely, then, dancing cannot be evil to me."

"Dance with a good purpose! How can you do that, my dear?"

"I have often danced with the sole end of contributing my share to the general enjoyment of a company."

"Strange enjoyment!" sighed the old parson.

"The timing of steps, and the orderly movement of the body in concert with musical harmonies — often affects the mind with exquisite delight, uncle. I have enjoyed this over and over again, and have felt better and happier afterwards."

"Child! child!" replied the old man; "how it grieves me to hear you say this."

"If there is sin in dancing, uncle," said Grace, seriously, "tell me wherein it lies. Look at the countenances of those now on the floor; do they express evil or good? — here, as I have been taught, lies the sin."

"It is a foolish waste of time," returned the old man; "a foolish waste of time; and it is an evil thing to waste the precious time that God has given to us."

"We cannot always work or read. Both mind and body become wearied."

"Then we have time for meditation."

"But even thought will grow burdensome at times, and the mind sink into listlessness and inactivity. Then we need recreation, in order that we may afterwards both work and think better. Music and dancing, in which mind and body find an innocent delight, effect such a recreation. I know it is so in my case; and I know it is so in the case of others. You do not say that dancing is a thing evil in itself?"

"No." This was admitted rather reluctantly.

"Then if it is made to serve a good end — it is a good thing."

"But is often made to serve evil," said the minister.

"Then it is an evil thing," promptly answered Grace; "and so every good gift of Heaven may be made an evil thing to those who use it for an evil purpose. You know it is said that a spider extracts poison from the same flower where the bee gets honey. The deadly nightshade draws life from the same rain and sunshine that nourishes and matures the wheat, from which our bread is made. It is the purpose, uncle, that makes a thing evil."

"Could you pray on going to bed, after an evening spent in dancing?" asked the old man, confident that he had put a question that would clearly show his niece her error. To his surprise, Grace answered, with a beautiful smile on her face —

"Oh, yes; and I have so prayed, many and many a time; not failing to return thanks for the pleasure I had been permitted to enjoy."

Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men on whom His favor rests." Luke 2:14

Christmas Making

J. R. Miller, 1910

There were two parts in the song the angels sang the night Jesus was born. The first part, was an outburst of praise to God."Glory to God in the highest!" God should always be put first. He should be first in our hearts, first in our love, first in our worship, first in our trust. It was fitting that the first note of the angels' song, should be to God. The great blessing of that night, was God's unspeakable gift to men, and to God—the highest honor should be raised. "Glory to God!" Before we begin our rejoicing at the Christmas time—we should bow reverently before God and praise him.

The second part of the angels' song, referred to the meaning of Christmas to this world, to the blessings it would bring to His people, to the change and transformation it would work. "On earth peace, good-will toward men."

We always have a part in making our own blessings. A friend wishes us a happy birthday. The wish is sincere and there is a great heart of love back of it. But nothing will come of it—unless we take it and make it real in our won life. God has most loving thoughts for us. He is always planning good for us. Yet God puts his good things into our hearts—only through our personal acceptance and appropriation of them by faith, and our assimilation of them in our conduct and character by obedience.

Christmas as a day in the calendar comes in its season, whatever our response may be. God sends it, like his sunshine and his rain, on the evil and the good, on the just and the unjust. But Christmas in its divine meaning will become real to us—only as it reenacts itself in our own experience.

Christmas is the gladdest of all the Christian festivals. It brings a great joy to all the earth. It is for all men. There is scarcely a home so lowly, in such neglect and poverty—but the Christmas spirit touches it with some little brightness, and the Christmas love carries into it a little breath of warmth, a thought of gentleness and kindness. There is scarcely a life so desolate, so cut off from companionships, so without the blessing of human love—but Christmas finds it with some tenderness, some sense of kinship and fellowship, some word of sympathy and cheer, some token of thought, something to brighten the dreariness, and soften the hardness. The day makes nearly every little child in the land happier. It is observed in nearly every home. Think of the millions of dollars that are spent in preparation, in buying gifts—from the simplest toys among the poor, to the most costly presents among the rich. There is no need to plead for the observance of Christmas. But there would seem to be need for serious thought about the real meaning of the day; and the way to make it—so as to get the most we can from it.

How did the world come to have a Christmas? God gave it to us. It was his gift. The story is told in the Now Testament. There is one great verse which tells how it came: "God so loved the world—that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish—but have everlasting life." Christmas thus began in the heart of God. The world did not ask for it—it was God's own thought. We love—because he first loved us. All the love that warms and brightens this old earth—was kindled from the one heavenly lamp that was lighted the first Christmas night. The Child that was born that first Christmas—was the Son of God. God so loved the world—that he gave his one and only Son.

Think of the beginning—how small it was. It was only a baby, a baby among the poor. Think where the baby was born—in a stable, with the cattle all about. Think where the baby slept its first sleep—in a little box, out of which the cattle ate their fodder. All the circumstances were lowly and humble on the earth side.

The first Christmas did not mean much in the world. Its influence did not reach out far. A little company of lowly shepherds, keeping their watch in the fields, were the only people outside who heard of the wonderful event, and came to look at the new-born Child. The first Christmas touched the shepherds with its wonder, and with its holy sentiment. But with this exception, the great world slept on that night—as if nothing was happening! The world does not know its greatest hours—nor mark its most stupendous events.

Within the lowly cattle-shed, where the Baby lay—there was nothing which at that time seemed unusual. There was no divine splendor, such as we would expect to see in the face of one who was the Son of God. The only light, was the shining of love in the peasant mother's face. When the shepherds came in, all that they saw was a newborn baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger; and a quiet couple, Mary and Joseph, bending over it in tender love. Yet that was the beginning. It was a real Christmas.

There is a picture in the Dresden gallery of the Madonna, which represents the Child in the arms of the mother, surrounded by clouds. A closer view, however, shows that the clouds are myriads of angel faces, all turned toward the Holy Child. The picture is true. There must have been hosts of angels round the manger, every one turning his face with adoring wonder toward the infant Savior. It was a bit of heaven—let down to earth!

Think what the problem of Christmas was. The mission of the Christ-Child was to change the sin and sorrow of earth—into the holiness and the joy of heaven. Earth was very unlike heaven that night. It was a place of selfishness, of cruelty, of strife, of sin, of wrong, of oppression, of sorrow. Millions of men were slaves. There was depravity that reeked to heaven. Governments were tyrannous. Home meant but little. Here and there, a few praying souls thought of God, and a few men and women lived pure and gentle lives. But the world was full of sin. Love—of course, there was natural love. Mothers loved their children, friend loved friend. But the great multitudes knew nothing of love, as we now understand the word. Love, Christian love, was born that first Christmas night. Love of God, God's own love, a spark of God's life—came down from heaven to earth when Jesus was born.

What was the problem? It was for this tiny spark of love to work its way out among men, among the nations—until all the life of the earth should be touched by it—changed, purified, sweetened, softened. This is part of what Jesus meant when he spoke of a woman putting a little morsel of leaven in a great mass of dough, that it might work its way through the whole lump. We have the problem stated in the words of angels' song, "On earth peace, and good-will toward men." That is what the coming of Christ to earth in human flesh was to do—to make peace and to put into all men's hearts good-will.

"Peace." This is a great word. As we read the New Testament, we find it used, for one thing, to denote the reconciliation of men to God. "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." Peace with God—enmity given up, will submitted, sins abandoned, and obedience to God made the law of life. To have this peace, is to be well advanced in the school of Christ. Jesus said that in wearing his yoke and learning of him—we shall find rest in our souls.

Peace means also peace with each other, peace among men. Remembering the late terrible Eastern war, it would seem that universal peace is still far away—an impracticable and impossible dream. Yet that was the problem of Christ's mission announced the first Christmas night, "peace on earth."

There is no doubt that the problem will be worked out in the end. One of the prophetic visions of the Messiah's reign, represents the peoples of the world beating their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks. Then we have this assurance, "Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." A picture of peace, shows a cannon lying in a meadow, and a lamb nibbling grass at its mouth. The picture is not ideal, for the implement of war still exists, though unused.

The prophet's picture is better—the sword no longer a sword—but made into a plough-share, and emblem of husbandry; and the soldiers' spears hammered into pruning-hooks, which are used in dressing the vines. There are intimations that the day is not far distant, when war shall cease from the face of the earth and when differences between nations shall be settle by the arbitrations of love, and no longer by an appeal to battle.

"Good-will toward men." The best definition of these words is—LOVE. Jesus puts it, "As I have loved you—you should also love one another." To have good-will toward men, is to love all men—not merely those who love us—but those who do not love us. Someone said the best definition of the commandment of love to men he had ever seen, was given by a plain woman, "To love like God—is to love people we don't like!" It means also to love those who do not like us. It means to forgive—not three times, nor seven times—but seventy-seven times. Good-will to men, means not only charity toward all—but sincere interest in all men—the seeking of the highest good of every person.

Someone writes: "Cultivate kindness of heart; think well of your fellow-men; look with charity upon the shortcomings in their lives; do a good turn for them, as opportunity offers; and, finally, don't forget the kind word at the right time. How much such a word of kindness, encouragement, of appreciation means to others sometimes, and how little it costs us to give it!"

If we really have in our hearts good-will to men—we shall not only wish everyone well—but we shall seek every opportunity to dogood to everyone! It will make us good neighbors, kind, obliging, ready always to lend a hand, to do another a good turn. When there is sickness or trouble in the home of a neighbor, we will show our sympathy by rendering any service that may be needed. Of a kindly man it was said, that he lived by the side of the road—that he might be among people and have an opportunity to help them. It is in practical ways that good-will to men shows itself. It does not wait to do large things—but heeds the calls of need as they come, however small they may be.

The problem of Christmas the night Jesus was born—was to set all this good-will to work in the world. A great deal has been done in these long Christian centuries, in the carrying out of this program. In Christian lands there is much that is very beautiful in the way the poor, the old, the blind, the orphan, the sick, and all unfortunate ones are cared for—and in the spirit of kindness andcharity which prevails in society. All this has been brought about by the diffusion of the love of God among men. What marvelous changes have been wrought, may be seen be comparing Christian countries like England and America, with heathen lands like China and Africa. But the work is not yet finished. The whole world had not yet been transformed into the sweetness, purity, and beauty of heaven! Where most has been done—there still is much to do.

We may bring the subject closer home. What is our personal part in the making of Christmas? After all, that is the most important question for us. We cannot do any other one's part—and no other can do ours. Some people spend so much time looking after their neighbor's garden, that the weeds grow in their own and choke out the plants and flowers. What about the little patch of God's great world that is given to US to tend? If the problem of the church is to make Christmas is every part of the earth, one small portion belongs to everyone of us.

Each one should seek to make Christmas, first in his own heart and life. Christmas is Christ likeness. The life of heaven came down to earth in Jesus, and began in the lowly place where he was born.

"Love one another. As I have loved you—so you must love one another." John 13:34. Is there any measure of Christ's sweet, gentle, pure, quiet, humble love—in US? It ought to be a very practical matter! Some people understand what Christian love is—but fail in working love out in their disposition, conduct, and character. The kind of love a Christian needs is something that will show itself in deeds. "My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue—but in deed and in truth!" 1 John 3:18

Someone tells of seeing a little lame dog trying to climb up the curb from the street. But the poor creature could not quite reach the top—he would always fall back. A hundred people passed by and watched the dog, laughed at his efforts and failures, and went on. No one offered to help him. Then a working man came alone, a rather rough-looking man. He saw the dog and pitied him, and getting down on his knees beside the curb, he lifted the little creature up to the sidewalk, and then went quietly on. That man possessed the true spirit of love. That is what Christ would have done. Love is shown quite as unmistakably in the way a man treats a dog—as in the spirit he shows toward his own fellows.

A Christmas letter has this sentence, referring to some things that had not gone quite right: "There have been mistakes—but this is a good time of year to forget them." That is part of the teaching of Christmas—to forget the mistakes which others have made—to wipe off the slate, the records of any wrongs others may have done us, any injuries they may have inflicted on us. Someone tells of a certain tree in a tropical country which when struck and bruised, bleeds fragrant balsam. So it should be with us when others hurt us—smite us with unkindness—if we bleed, we should bleed love, not anger, not bitterness.

Christmas is a good day to forgive any who in any way have done us harm. Paul's counsel is not to let the sun do down upon our anger. Surely we should not let the sun of the Christmas Eve, go down on any feeling of anger or bitterness, any grudge or hatred, in our hearts! Everything that is unloving should be swept away as we pray, "Forgive us our debts—as we forgive our debtors."

We should not forget the word "peace," in our lesson. "Peace on earth." We should seek for the things which make for peace. It is easy to misunderstand others, even our dearest friends. One may hold a penny before his eye—so that it will shut out all the beautiful sky, all the blue and all the stars. It is easy, too, to make little offences grow large—as we brood over them, until, held up before our face—they hide whole fields of beauty and good in the lives of our friends! An unpleasant word is spoken thoughtlessly by someone, and we fret and vex ourselves over it, lying awake all night thinking of it, and by tomorrow it has grown into what seems an unpardonable wrong that our friend has committed against us! But Christ's way is different—he turns the other cheek. He forgives, he forgets, he blots out the record—and goes on loving just as before—as if nothing had happened!

The Christmas spirit teaches us to deal in the same way with those who injure us. Life is too short to mind such hurts, which ofttimes are as much woundings of our own pride or self-esteem—as real injuries to us. In any case, heavenly love ignores them. One says, "The hurts of friendship, of social life, of household familiarity—must be ignored, gotten over, forgotten—as are the hurts, the wounds, the bruises, the scratches of briers or thorns on our bodies!"

If we would make it really Christmas in our own hearts—we must learn to forget ourselves, and to think of others. We must stop keeping account of what we have done for other people—and begin to put down in place, what other people have done for us. We must cease thinking what others owe to us—and remember what we owe to them; and that we own Christ and the world, the best we have to give to life and love. We must give up chafing about our rights—and begin to rejoice in giving up our rights and doing our duties.

Someone says that the best thing about rights is that they are our own—and we can give them up. We must no longer sit on little thrones and expect people to show us honor, attention, and deference, and to bow down to us and serve us—but, instead, must get down into the lowly places of love and begin to serve others, even the lowliest, in the lowliest ways. That is the way our Master did.

We must make Christmas first in our own heart—before we can make it for any other. A grumpy person, a selfish person, a tyrannous and despotic person, an uncharitable, unforgiving person—cannot enter into the spirit of Christmas himself, and cannot add to the blessing of Christmas for his friends or neighbors. The day must begin within—in one's own heart. But it will not end there. We must be a maker of Christmas for others—or we cannot make a real Christmas for ourselves. We need the sharing of our joy—in order to gain its real possession. If we try to keep our Christmas all to ourselves, we will miss half its sweetness.

There would seem not to be any need at the Christmastide to say a word to urge people—to be kind to others and to do things for them. Everybody we meet at this season, carries an armful of mysterious bundles. For weeks before the happy day, the stores are thronged with people buying all sorts of gifts. To the homes of the poor—baskets by hundreds are sent, with their toys for the children. The spirit of giving is in the very air. Even the churl and the miser are generous and liberal, for the time. Everybody catches the spirit of giving, for once in the year.

But this is not the only way to do good, to help others. In a story, a good man says, "It's very hard to know how to help people when you can't send them blankets, or coal, or Christmas dinners." With many people, this is very true. They know of no way of helping others, except by giving them material things. Yet there are better ways of doing good—than by sending food or clothing. One may have no money to spend—and yet may be a liberal benefactor. We may help others by sympathy, by cheer, by encouragement.

A good woman when asked at Thanksgiving time for what she was most grateful, said that that which, above all other things, she was thankful for at the end of the year—was courage. She had been left with a family of children to care for—and the burden had been very heavy. Again and again she had been on the point of giving up in the despair of defeat. But through the cheer and encouragement received from a friend—she had been kept brave and strong through all the trying experience. Her courage had saved her. It is a great thing to be such an encourager—there is no other way in which we can help most people—better than by giving them courage. Without such inspiration, many people sink down in their struggles and fail. To many people—to far more than we think, life is very hard, and it is easy for them to faint along the way. What they need, however, is not to have the load lifted off, or to be taken out of the hard fight—but to be strengthened to go on victoriously. The help they need is not in temporal things—but in sympathy and heartening.

So far as we are told—Jesus never sent people blankets to keep them warm, or fuel for their fires, or Christmas dinners, or toys for the children. Yet there never was such a helper of others—as he was! He had the marvelous power of putting himself under people's loads—by putting himself into peoples lives. There is a tremendous power of helpfulness in true sympathy, and Jesus sympathized with all sorrow and all hardness of condition.

Jesus loved people—that was the great secret of his helpfulness. He felt men's sufferings. In all their afflictions, he was afflicted. One said, "If I were God, my heart would break with the sorrows of the world." He was blaming God for permitting such sufferings, such calamities, such troubles, as daily history records. He said God was cruel to look on in silence—and not put a stop to these terrible things. "If I were God, my heart would break over such anguish and pain as are in the world." He did not understand that that was just what the heart of Christ did—it broke with compassion, with love, with sorrow, over the world's woes! Thus he was enabled to become the world's Redeemer. He was a marvelous helper of others—not by giving material things—but by imparting spiritual help. Its is right to give gifts at Christmas—they do good, if they are carefully and wisely chosen and are given with the desire to do good. But let us seek to be helpers also in higher ways.

We can help greatly by being happiness makers. Someone says, "Blessed are the happiness makers. Blessed are those who remove friction, who make the courses of life smooth, and the fellowship of men gentle." There is far more need of this sort of help—than most of us imagine. We think most people are quite happy. We have no conception of the number of people about us who are lonely, and find their loneliness almost unbearable at such times as the Christmastide.

Perhaps nearly everyone of us knows at least one person who will have no home on next Christmas Day, but a dreary room in itself, it may be—but made more dreary by the absence of home's loved ones. You do not know what a blessing you may be to this homeless one—if you will in some way put a taste of home into his experience even for one hour on Christmas. Jesus has told us how near these lonely ones are to him. He knew what it was to have no place to go at the close of the day—when the people scattered off, everyone to his own house leaving him alone, with no invitation to anyone's hospitality and no place but the mountains to go for the night. Then he tells us, that if we open our door to a stranger and take him in—it is the same as if we had opened the door and taken in Jesus himself. He is pleased, therefore, when, in any loving way, we make Christmas a little less lonely for some homesick one.

A word may be said, too, to those who will be alone on Christmas, who are away from their homes, or have no longer any home. There is a way in which they can do much to make the day brighter for themselves. Though no taste or touch of human fellowship and friendship be their that day—they need not grow disheartened. George Macdonald says, "To be able to have the things we want—that is riches; but to be able to do without them—that is power." This is then the lesson of loneliness—to gain the victory over it.

One of the problems of life, is to live independently of circumstances and conditions. Paul said he had learned in whatever state he was, therein to be content. The secret was in himself. He carried in his own mind and heart—the resources he needed. No matter how bare his life was of comforts, or how full of trials and sufferings—the peace and joy within were not disturbed. It may not be easy for the lonely ones, lacking the companionship and fellowship of home and its happiness, to go through a Christmastide, as if nothing were lacking. Yet there is a way to overcome in great measure, the lack of fellowship. Much can be done by thinking of others who are lonely, and doing what we can to carry cheer to them. In doing this—we will forget our own lonely condition. Then we can turn our heart-hunger toward Christ—who is always willing to give us his joy. Here is a little prayer for lonely people, which some may find fitting for the Christmastide.