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The Presbyterian of the South : [combining the] Southwestern Presbyterian, Central Presbyterian, Southern Presbyterian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1909-1931, November 16, 1921, Image 7

Image and text provided by Library of Virginia; Richmond, VA

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/10021978/1921-11-16/ed-1/seq-7/

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(Continued from page two)
nrc you praising the Lord for about that??"
The colored uiau answcivil: I am praising tin
Lord because I've got my appetite left."
T lie re are a ?r< ?o? I man men who would give a
good part of their fortune for an appetite, and
the greatest thing of all to be thankful for is
a spiritual appetite, for has not .Jesus prom
ised that. ''Blessed are they who do hung 'r
and thirst after righteousness, for they shall he
filled"? But that man was abounding in
thanksgiving. And it is a great privilege.
It is a duly, hut it is a privilege, too. for it
brings abundance of blessings on our souls.
Gratefully dwelling on a gift nmltpli's il and
magnifies if. Thanksgiving enhanees the joys
for which we are thankful.
Instead of complaining, h't us learn from
our soldiers who went overseas and "pack up
our troubles." Charles Spurgeoii. I think il
was. stated that it is a pleasant sight to see
anybody thanking Cod, because the air is
heavy with the hum of murmuring and the
roads are dusty with complaints and lamenta
tions. A unique sugestion was once made by
Dr. Maltbie I), Babeoek. to the effect "that, in
stead of having one day set apart for thanks
giving. it would he better to set apart one day
for complaining, and cram into it all our wor
ries. leaving the rest of the year clear for grati
When the young students w -re in military
training for positions as officers in the national
army at .Madison Barracks, New York, in the
summer of 1!H7. the idea of community sing
ing in the army was developed, and \V. Stan
ley Hawkins, of Rochester, directed this work,
lie said that the favorite song of the men was.
" Keep the Home Fires Burning," but the
next choice was, "Back l p Your Troubles."
Oner* when General Beaver, of Pennsylvania,
was addressing a large audience, lie flourished
his crutch in the air, and with unmatched elo
quence said, "I won that at Chancellorsville. "
".My hay crop is a failure," moaned a farmer
to his neighbor. ''But how about the pota
toes?" asked the neighbor. "They are all
right." "And your corn.'" "A fine crop."
"And your oats?" "An excellent yield."
Then the neighbor said: "Why don't you
mention your successes tirst. ami put that fail
ure in a parenthesis at the end?" General
Beaver counted il an honor to leave a leg at
Chancellorsville. The farmer raised four
crops of produce and moaned because one was
a failure. Wo can flourish our crutches or
moan over them. We can moan over one poor
crop or rejoice over three good ones. Which
are we doing?
There is real danger that this year's Thanks
giving will prove to he Thanksgiving spoiled
hy our people's murmuring ami complaints.
If the people do work themselves up to a day
of the formal rcnd'riug of gratitude to (Jod,
it will hardly he according to their present
mood. A national mood that forgets (Jod's
benefits is a dangerous mood. We have been
vouchsafed a thrilling victory, and yet how
seldom do we hear any open praise for the
divine aid which enabled 1 1 m ' Allies to conclude
so gloriously their late conflict with the linn.
Two tremendous legacies were left to the
I'liited States by the world war ? one a debt,
tli' other of gratitude. The legacy of debt
will probably amount to M ll ).()( )*).()? K I. It
will be paid. The other, the legacy of grati
lude. is beyond all comprehension. We must
have no failure in our appreciation of what
the men who fought for the freedom of the
world have accomplished, under (Jod's good
providence. And yet how common is it to h"ar
only murmnrings. We might well note the
statements of an Old Testament prophet: ".le
hovali heard h your munnurings which ye mur
mur against him." It is recorded that Caesar
once prepared a great feast for his nobles and
friends. It happened that the day appointed
was so extremely foul that nothing could be
done to the honor of the meeting, whereupon
he was so displeased and enraged that he
commanded all who had bows to shoot up
their arrows at .Jupiter, their chi *f god. as if
in defiance of him for that rainy weather.
When they did this, their arrows fell short
of heaven and struck their own heads, so that
many of them were sorely wounded. So our
iiiurinurings. which are so many arrows shot
at (Jod. will return upon our own heads. They
hurt not Mini., but will wound us. Let us as
Christians, as far as our influence can ex'tend.
eiill people away from their miirmurings. For
niurmuriiigs are arrows upward shot that
surely will fall, niusi fall, upon their own
h *ads. Let n>< turn the people to thoughts of
(Jod's mercies, to gratitude, to the expression
of gratitude for all (Jod's goodness toward us
and goodness all the more gracious because
so greatly undeserved.
I ?cv. ( I. |'i. |' . I |m I luck.
By James Anderson.
Several mure days passed (lining which
(Jeorge seemed lo In* having a severe in.'ntal
struggle. His mind l'rcc from ihe fog ?? t*
liquor. In- lay on his hack pondering in silence.
II* afterwards said, "I lay there savin' tae
mysel, 'What a fool yc hac hecn.' 1 had hecn
hi i nd a' tliae years, an' though I prized my
wife highly, my conduct had hrocht oot her
brilliance like the grindm' o' a diamond.
When she cam inta:* the room I couldna speak
mv heart griped inc. Ac moruni'she hrocht
my gruel | luidua stcckit niycen a' niclit.
When I saw her sinilin' face an' the tears in
'cr ecu I fairly hroke doon, an' I took Vr
hand, an' cried, '<> .Margaret, my wife, what
a madman I hac hecn. What deils possessed
me. Will yc. can ye ever forgi "e me?' What
dac yc think she did? Never a word tae me,
hut she fell oil 'er knees an' \vi' tears rinnin'
doon 'er cheeks, only said atween 'er solis,
'Lord, thank ye; Lord, thauk ye.'"
I hiring tlx* next f '\v weeks (leorge Talbert
wrestled with tin* great problem of life, hi
youth he luul been well read in the Bible and
knew that it ealleil him to repentance and
faith. II' now bitterly repented; but he would
not he a coward to accept salvation until he
liiid in sonic way atoned for the sins of his
life. In that quagmire lie stuck. The thought
of death intervening before lie had time to
do anything did not disturb him. lie would
rather be lost a hero, than saved a coward.
One Sabbath after Sabbath school, Annie
went into her father's room, taking with her
.Icanies Broon's little girl, Betty, and she
kissed her father, lie asked tliem to sing one
of their hymns, and they sang, I think when
I read that sweet story of old," and others. He
then asked what they had learned at Sabbath
school, and she answered, "() father, sic a
honnie text we had. 'Except, ye receive the
kingdom of (Jod as a little child, ye shall not
cuter therein.' The teacher said that faithcrs
an' mithcrs an* folks had tae become little
children. Disna it look runny-like .' aulil men
ami women cheeiigi* tae bainrs." ami the two
ehildren laughed.
(Jeorge Talhert started so that ii pained
him. "A little child"! and he was planning
to heeoine a great hero. What was this new
doctrine? For the t i r^t time he ealled for a
liilile and poured over it. For days he studied
the subject : "A little child." Finally lie com
muned with himself thus: Would a little
child take his positon of obstinaex .' It Annie
disobeyed him ami he \v;is willing to torsive
her. would she refuse forgiveness until she
could make amends for her miseonuuet
What uiis he in the s i 1 1 1 of the Almight\ that
he should presume 1<? dictate terms for his#
own surrender.' Would it not he more honor
iu?r to (iod to accept his terms ;is a little child,
than to earn his way into (tod's favor, even
were that possible, by becoming the hero he
had planned to be? Kven if he had the op
portunity lie wished for to make atonement
for himself <i 1 1 < I demonstrate his reformation,
what certainty was there that he should suc
ceed.' All the arguments he could conjure up
pointed to the step he should take, but some
thing continued to hold him back, and he re
mained a prisoner in doubting castle.
The prisoners in this castle are manacled by
chains forged in the pit. Human will-power,
worshipped by many as an omnipotent detiy,
is powerless to break those chains. Oftimcs
words from the mouths of babes have severed
the fetters, and a little child has led the
prisoners to freedom. Tne seed sown by little
Annie had secured a safe lodgment and was
fructifying, and (Jeorge Talbert's mind was
a veritable maelstrom. Thoughts of various
shades were seething, raging, surging wildly
in that human mental vessel, giving no rest
day or light. The battle was incessant, and
continued even in the visions of the night,
until, finally, the forces of sin were routed
and the victory was won.
One morning, after the sun had risen in all
its clVulgcut glory, (Jeorge awoke and hastily
called his wife. When she entered he said.
"My wife, its a' richt noo. I've yielded. I'm
a little child."
"<>, (Jeordie," Margaret said, ''I kent it
would come sometime. 1 thocht I 'd been hear
in' the rum'le o' His chariot wheels. We can
spend eternity thegither noo, praise the Lord,
the hearer an' answered o' prayer."
After a time he told her of a dream he had.
lie said, "I thocht that I was at Derby se'in'
a stirk cut up. The tlesher took the hert tae
the trough an' let the water rin ower it. Syne
1 saw, juist like rats frae their holes, queer
shaped craters jumpiu' oot o' the hert wi'
tags on them. Ane was marked 'Disobedi
ence,' anithcr 'Pride,' anither ' Iiitemperaiice,"
I forgot the it hers, but I wasna bothered till
nae marc would come oot, an' the tlesher
wrapped the hert in a piece o' clean paper an'
wrote on the paper 'A Little Child.' "
"Wi' a start an' a scream I cried, 'That's
me,' an' I woke up shivcrin' an' cryin', 'My
hert; my lfert ; that's where the trouble is,' an'
I prayed, 'Lord gi'e me a clean hert.' When
I had time tae think I kent I bad cheenged,
an' ever since I've been sayin', as ye did the
i*her nielif. 'Lord, thank ye; Lord, thank ye.' "
Margaret's heart was too full for words,
but at lhat moment Annie's voice was heard
from the kitchen singing,
"Then in ?i nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing illy power to save,
"When Ibis poor, lisping staniin 'ring tongue
Lies silent io the grave."

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