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gressive Program as the Church faces the de.
mands of the day. The Presbyterian Church has the message, the traditions, the spirit. All of its energies are to be dedicated anew unto God if it is to stand the test in this day that tries men's souls. The faith of yesterday is of little worth unless it holds us to steadfastness of purpose today. Every member of every congregation rally ing to the appeal of the united enterprises of the Church ? that is the objective of the Pro gressive Program- -that is Life Service. St. Louis, Mo. THE NEED OF SACRIFICE. By Rev. Neal L. Anderson, I). V>. In view of the grave condition of the great home and foreign missionary causes I have heen asked to write concerning the sacrificial clement involved in the Progressive Program. Frankly I am ashamed to do it. The word is hallowed by the associations of the cross, and the spirit of the noble army of men and women who literally gave all for their Lord, ?lust now it still has about it the aroma of truly sacrificial altars upon which manhood and womanhood laid every precious thing in hehalf of Christian civilization. The times are hard, money has grown scarce, hut God has so richly blessed the people of our Church that if all would do their part, oven in the financial stress of the hour, we would reach our goal so promptly that none would dare speak of our offerings as "sacri ficial." We must frankly recognize, however, that many in every church will do little, and some will do nothing, for the great causes of the Church to which we have dedicated ourselves, and in view of the open doors of opportunity, and the desperate needs of our workers, if the goal is to be reached, there must be truly sac rificial giving. This is our privilege, and not our burden and here is the supreme opportunity of exhib iting the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. He was rich ; for our sakes He became poor. His example is the inspiraton of all genuine giv ing, and His blessing the measure of our gifts. At this truly critical stage of our mission work at home and abroad, it is well to re mind ourselves that our Church was bom in the midst of poverty and suffering caused by war, and that in a "time of great trial and affliction, the abundance of their joy and their leep poverty abounded unto the riehes of their liberality." For to their power, and beyond "they willingly gave not merely of their scan ty store, but first of all themselves unto God, and then to the service of the Church." This is the meaning of the Progressive Program with its varied objectives, and such personal surrender, such renewed consecration, must be the basis of our offerings, if we hope to reach our goal. The spirit of sacrifice manifested at the or ganization of the Southern Presbyterian Church has been the secret of God's blessing upon us in all our history, and now that we need this blessing so much, let us, like our fathers, offer ourselves willing, that upon us al?o the windows of His grace may be opened This is the key to the present spiritual and financial situation. It is a situation that re quires sacrifice, but let us not use the word ?ightly, let us not dare use it at all of our gifts, 1 until we have learned its meaning at the foot f the cross, and studied it in the light that lows upon those altars where men gave their P When we have done this we shall find the blessing upon our basket and our store, the needs of every cause shall be met, not so much in spite of the financial stress and strain, but because conditions have aroused us to the true meaning of sacrifice. Savannah, Ga. PEREGRINE PAPERS By Rev. W. H. T. Squires, D. D. the quern of the desert. VI. "The symmetrical dome of the Tomb of Haladin dominates the dirtiest and most delapidated sec tion of DnmaNCus." The road to Damascus is about the only benefit that remains to Syria after 800 years of Turkish tyranny. It was forced upon the Moslems by the French, and was rebuilt under ihe dominating, domineering eye of German engineers. From the rich, green slopes of Lebanon it descends into the long, lateral valley of Coele Syria (Hollow Syria), as the Romans aptly named it. Then the road breasts the barren ridges of Anti-Lebanon, rising to more splen did heights at each ascending turn. Among the lofty, sultry peaks that glow like a fur nace under the brilliant Syrian sun it searches out the lowest pass and crosses it at an alti tude of 4,500 feet. The desert air is (parching dry. The mountains sweep to magnificent heights. Not a green thing is visible, for a heaven of Oriental blue bends above an earth of brass. Along the southern horizon the triple peaks of Hermon, wearing crowns of perpetual snow, stand forth against the sky. The road is not lonely. Long caravans, as seen to distant view, move like black specks along the blistering, glimmering white road. They bring their burdens from the fastnesses of Arabia and Mesapotamia to the sea. The longest caravan we passed that day had fifty camels tied tandem. They moved in slow, steady, solemn, silent, swinging gait, making perhaps two miles an hour, traveling perhaps ten hours a day, resting at mid-day and night. Five or six men and boys with fifteen asses drove the caravan forward. The mountains slowly unfold before our rapid advance. The little rivulet, Abana, eoines trickling along the roadside. Its gladsome wa ters are led off again and again into thirsty gardens, orchards, vineyards, yet ever fall back to the road and the floor of the narrow val ley. The little river is fed by the exhaustless cisterns that God placed in the depths of the mountain mass. The white houses of Damascus are set in an oasis of living green, like a costly pearl in an emerald frame. The tawny desert stretches afar, filling the background of every landscape. Syria needs but' one thing ? water. And, paradoxcicallv, there is plenty of water. For six months in the year the rainfall is torrential. And there is water ever underground. A few hydraulic engineers, a hundred well-located dams, ten thousand artesian wells, and Syria would become one of the richest lands on earth. Damascus suffers from close inspection. She resembles a handsome woman whose gawdy raiment and flashing gems make a brave show, but whose silks arc soiled and whose gems are glass and all her beauty slatternly. Within her mud walls multitudes surge to and fro, every conceivable shade and color of man kind. Wealthy Europeans, officers in gay uni forms jostle the almost naked fellaheen, and pick their way amid the ooze, filth and slime of streets that have not been cleansed since the days of Abraham. The shrewd mountain air and the dry breath of the desert combine to stay the plagues which must otherwise sweep away the unprotected people. And yet Damascus is one of the most at tractive cities in the world. She boasts no his tory like Jerusalem, no art like Florence, no architecture like Athens. ''What can be the attraction that draws one irresistibly?" I asked my ignorant self time and again. At last T grasped it. "It is human nature." In Damascus more than in any place on earth man is frankly a human animal. Human nature stands forth naked, unabashed and unashamed. In the bazaars of Damascus everything is primitive, every one is natural. One dresses, talks, bargains, buys or sells as he pleases. There are no traditions, no ethical standards, no public opinion. Some authorities call this city the oldest in the world; because "Eliezer of Damascus" was Father Abraham's steward. But Melchizedek, "King of Salem," was an older man than Ab raham, and, by that token, Jerusalem is older than Damascus. No doubt the sons of Canaan came down from the Lebanons and planted their gardens here while Noah was still alive. The bazaars present a scene unrivalled for variety and interest. The merchants of each guild gather into a quarter of their own. In the saddle market hundreds of men and boys work long hours at their leather, sitting cross legged as they stitch, or selling straps to cus tomers who seek their little booths. Tn the drapers' bazaar eager purchasers pass from tiny shop to tiny shop. The goldsmiths, join ers. sweets, silk, grocers, book-sellers, spicers, turners, carpet, and many other stalls invite the visitor to linger. The traveler who enjoys