The Children's Six Minutes

MEMORY HYMN [84]

ALAS, THE MARKS

There is an old, old story about a father who had great difficulty in making his boy obey. The boy did wrong in spite of all that the father could say or do. One day the father said to the boy, "Here is the shed door, now every time you do wrong I am going to pound a nail into the door." One by one the nails were pounded into the door, until it was literally filled with nails. The boy did not like the looks of the door, the thought of it began to trouble his conscience. So he spoke to his father about it. "Well," said his father, "I'll tell you what we will do. Every time you are obedient, every time you do a good deed rather than a wrong one, we will pull a nail out." The bargain was struck, and as, one by one, the nails were driven in, so, one by one, they were pulled out.

Finally the day arrived when there was but one nail left. You can imagine the joy of the boy when he and his father went together to pull that nail out. With great glee the claws of the hammer were fastened about the head of Mr. Nail and, jerk, out he came. "Oh," exclaimed the boy, "the marks are left." Yes, it was true, for every nail driven in and pulled out a mark was left, and it was an ugly looking door. "That is the sad thing about it all," said the father, "every time you do an evil deed a mark is left upon the life. It is never the same as if the evil deed had not been committed. It is fine that we have all the nails out, but it would have been much better had they never been driven in."

MEMORY VERSE, Jeremiah 2: 22

MEMORY HYMN [348]

A BLIND MAN WHO SAW

Once upon a time there was a boy who had a call to be a preacher. Now this boy was Scotch, and the fondest ambition of a Scotch mother is that her son shall become a minister. You may believe that this particular lad's mother was very, very happy. So George (George was his name) went to school. He was not a brilliant student, but he was faithful, he did his work well and passed his grades. One day he noted some difficulty with his eyes. The trouble increased rather than diminished. Before he had finished his education, while he was yet a young man, he became totally blind. He was greatly discouraged. He was tempted to give up entirely, stop trying to do anything. Certainly he could not be a successful preacher if he was blind. Who would listen to him? How could he do his work?

However there was another voice inside him, the voice of courage, hope and faith. It was the voice of the Lord that bid him go right on with his plans. He heeded the urge of the inner voice. He was ordained. People loved him, and flocked to hear him preach. Though his natural vision was darkened, his spiritual vision was so much brighter. Though he could not look upon the beautiful sights of the world, he had eyes to see more clearly the wonderful things of the soul. His fame spread throughout Edinburgh, Scotland, England, and all the English-speaking world, and everywhere he was known and loved as the blind preacher.

This blind preacher wrote many hymns. The greatest hymn he ever wrote, and one of the finest in all the English language, is the Memory Hymn for to-day.

His name? Well, I almost forgot that. His name is George Matheson.

MEMORY VERSE, Isaiah 42: 16

MEMORY HYMN [481]

CHOOSING A KING

What would you do if you were asked to select a young man who should some day be president of the United States? What tests would you apply? Would you look upon the clothes that he wore? Would you consider the color of his hair? Would you insist that he should be of a certain height? Once upon a time there was a good and wise man who was asked to choose a king for his people. He started on his journey in search of the most promising youth he could find. By and by he came to a home where there were many boys. One of these boys stood before him. He was tall. He was well formed. He had a good bearing. Surely, thought the king-chooser, here is just the man. But something inside him, "the still small voice" I think it was, said to him, "No, do not choose him, he is not the one." The father then called a second son. Like the first he was goodly to look upon. The great man commissioned to choose a king was about to select this one when the same voice inside warned him to wait. A third son was summoned. A third time the voice said, "No, he is not the one."

How chagrined the father must have been to have all seven of his splendid sons rejected! All? No, not all. For the king-chooser said, "Have you no more sons?" "Yes, I have one other, but he is young and the keeper of the sheep. I am sure you would not think of him as a king." "Nevertheless," said the prophet, "send for him." And he came, the youngest, the most unlikely one of all, at least so the father and the brothers thought. But the voice within said, "This is the one, choose him." You will want to read all of this wonderful story and you will find it in your Bible, First Samuel the sixteenth chapter.

MEMORY VERSE, I Samuel 16: 7

MEMORY HYMN [354]

WORSHIP AND TOIL

One day about one hundred years ago a little boy named Jean stood by his father's side watching the setting sun sink into the waves of the sea. The glory of the scene stirred his boyish enthusiasm and he poured out his heart in an ecstasy of joy. The father reverently took off his cap and said, "My son, it is God." The boy never forgot that word, "It is God."

Jean came of a peasant family, so he had to take his place in the field and earn his bread "by the sweat of his brow." On Sundays the fields were forsaken and the family went to the village church where the father was the leader of the choir. After church friends and relatives sometimes came home to spend the afternoon with the family. One Sunday, soon after the return from church, the bent figure of an aged peasant slowly made his way along the road. There was something about the figure that struck the boy Jean. He took a piece of charcoal and hurriedly drew a sketch upon the wall. Every movement and attitude was so perfectly depicted that everybody laughed—everybody but the father. He sensed the gift possessed by his boy, whose growing talent he had been watching. "My Jean," he said, "I will no longer hinder you from learning that which you are so anxious to know."

Jean Francis Millet, for such is his full name, became the artist of peasantry. He never made any other boast. His character was of the highest. He had a firm faith in God. He believed in the Bible as the Word of God. He looked upon his use of the brush as preaching upon canvas the purity and truth he believed.

"The Angelus" is the name of the best known picture that he painted. It shows two workers in a potato field, a man and a woman, who hear from the near-by village the faint tones of the Angelus bell calling them to prayer. They pause, stand erect, bow their heads and worship. It is a beautiful picture. I hope you have a copy framed in your room.

MEMORY VERSE, Luke 11: 1

MEMORY HYMN [495]

GOD'S CLOCK

Do you own a watch? If you do not now you will some day. I have a friend whose watch came to him in this wise. His father said to him, "When you graduate from High School I will give you a watch."

Is there a "town clock" where you live? Is it dependable? Do men set their watches by it? Do people, passing it, glance up to see if they are late? In the village where I began my ministry the Baptist tower held the town clock. I lived but a few doors away. I went to bed by it. I studied by it. I was wakened by it. Even now, and many years have passed since then, I can hear its clear bell strike the hours.

The strangest clock I ever saw was in China. I went up the West River to the city of Canton. I was carried through the narrow, smelly, crowded streets to the top of a little hill at the city's edge. There, on the very tip-top I saw the "Water Clock." I read, "This water clock is a most ancient, authentic, celebrated and sacred relic of Kwong Tung Province, over 1,300 years old. It was erected on the top story of the north Worshiping Tower which was built by Chin To, King of the South of China."

It was a strange, crude affair, run by water. I stood and looked at it and thought, "This clock was running when George Washington was president; it was running when Christopher Columbus sailed on his great voyage of discovery; long years, long centuries before that it was built."

But there is a clock surpassing all others. I call it God's clock. It is the Sun. Since time began God's clock has kept time. It is the central clock of our universe. It regulates all others. It does not have to be wound. God has seen to that. How can we help worshiping the God who has made such a clock!

MEMORY VERSE, Psalm 74: 16

MEMORY HYMN [47]

THE HUMAN KODAK

I wonder how many of you have a kodak. Yes, many of you own one. What a wonderful little machine a kodak is! First we buy a film, then we open the kodak and place the film. Now pull the paper over to the empty roll and fasten, close the kodak and begin to wind. Oh, here you are, No. 1. The day is clear, for we must have a clear day to get the best picture. We hold the kodak very steady, then snap, we have it. Next we pull a little slide in the back, take a pencil and write down the date and name. Let me see, what was that picture? Oh, yes, "Chrysanthemum (is that the way to spell it?) exhibition." Next the films are developed, and the kodak pictures are complete, all but pasting them in a big book.

For all that the kodak is a whole lot of fuss, isn't it? But, do you know, each one of us has a kodak God has given him which works itself. We have the open circle through which the pictures are taken, our eyes, and beyond the eyes, in the brain, are thousands of films. We start out in the morning and the moment we open our eyes we begin exposing those films. We do not have to do any clicking for these pictures, one after another, click, click, click, and they are developed as fast as they are taken.

If you should say to a man who has reached three score years and ten, "Tell me the clearest picture you can remember," he would not show a picture that was taken yesterday, or last week, or last year. He would turn back the pages of his memory book fifty, sixty years. The clearest pictures he possesses are those that were snapped in his boyhood. Every day you are taking pictures that are going to remain with you as long as you live. Let us resolve, girls and boys, that as we go out each morning and our human kodak begins clicking, we shall take only pictures that are true, pure and clean.

MEMORY VERSE, Proverbs 4: 25

MEMORY HYMN [1]

WATCH LESSONS

My grandfather was a foreman in a tannery for a great many years. Finally, as he was approaching seventy years of age, he left the tannery to retire to a quieter life. The men who worked in his department had a real affection for him. As an expression of that esteem they presented him, on his last day with them, a beautiful, solid gold watch. On the inner cover they engraved his name, the date, and the occasion of the presentation. When my grandfather died the watch became my father's possession. Then upon my father's death the watch came to me. What a joy it is to carry such a watch! Here are some lessons my watch teaches me.

The case is but the outside. It is nice to have a gold case, it looks so well. But that does not make the watch keep any better time. It would keep just as accurate time if the case were iron. You see it is the inside that counts. It is the same with life. The soul is the important part of us.

Now here is the tiny second hand. It rushes around, jumping, hurrying, fussy, as though it were doing the whole job. But you cannot tell time by the second hand. Knock it off and the watch goes right on running.

Here's the minute hand. How big, and solemn and serious it looks! Surely the minute hand is important. What time is it? Fifteen minutes after. Fifteen minutes after what? The minute hand does not say.

Ah, here's the hour hand. Strong, steady, dependable. The hour hand does not move very fast, you cannot see it move. It makes no fuss at all, but you can tell time by the hour hand. Let your life be like the hour hand of the watch, so true and steady that other girls and boys who daily watch you may know life's time, may never be led astray.

MEMORY VERSE, I Corinthians 15: 58

MEMORY HYMN [385]

WHAT DID YOU SEE?

A few days ago I made a trip on the train. When I returned home one of the first questions my little boy asked me was, "What did you see?" I shall tell you what I told him.

Looking out of the car window I saw an immense field, acres and acres, and in that field were planted hundreds, yes thousands, of little trees. I inquired of the man who sat next me, "What are those little trees for?" He said, "They are growing those little trees to reforest the desolate, burned over regions of the Adirondacks." I said to myself, "That is just what we are doing in my church. We are growing girls and boys to reforest the needy places of the earth." I inquired, "How long do they keep those little trees there?" "Not very long," said he, "just long enough to give them a good start. Then they transplant them." Again I said to myself, "That is exactly what we do. We keep the girls and boys only a little while, then they are transplanted."

I had another question. "When they transplant these little trees how do they plant them, haphazard, every-which-way?" "No, indeed," was his answer, "they are planted in rows, and close together." Exactly what we are doing in our church, I thought. We are growing our girls and boys, and we are keeping them close together, because they are such a help to one another, and there is great inspiration in numbers.

Looking out of the train window at those trees of future forests, I thought of the verse in Isaiah, "The mountains and the trees shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." I can hear the mountains and the hills of the Adirondacks singing because of the growing trees, and I hear the mountains and the hills of earth singing because of the millions of growing girls and boys who shall reforest the desolate places of earth.

MEMORY VERSE, Psalm 92: 13

MEMORY HYMN [677]

KNIFE LESSONS

I have here a knife. It was given me by a friend, a token of his affection and esteem, when I went aboard the steamer in Manila, Philippine Islands, to return to the homeland. All these years since then the knife has been on my study desk, daily teaching me. What lessons does this knife teach?

First of all the knife tells me of Strength. The most important part of this knife is what I call the backbone. It is the main portion of the knife to which all the blades are fastened, as well as the polished pearl handle. This would be a weak and useless knife did it not have a backbone. It says to me every day "Be strong, stand up, have convictions, be steadfast."

Lesson number two, Discipline. This knife has been subjected to many trials and tests. The steel of which these blades are made had to go through a hard, hot, trying process before they were tempered and fit to take an edge and hold it. Sometimes I rebel about certain processes of the days, then I think of my knife and learn from it the lesson of discipline.

The third lesson this knife teaches me is Neatness. Now I can picture the man who bought this knife. As he went into the store, he stood before the glass show case wherein were displayed scores of different kinds of knives. There were dark knives and light knives, big knives and little knives. His eye caught this knife, with its graceful lines, its smooth pearl handle, and he said, "That is a neat knife, I'll take that one." People are attracted to you by your neatness.

The fourth lesson is Usefulness. Really it is quite wonderful the variety of uses to which this knife can be put. Here is a big blade, and a small blade; here is a blade with a file; folded in the back is a tiny pair of scissors. So the great test of life is its usefulness.

MEMORY VERSE, I Corinthians 9: 22

MEMORY HYMN [545]

LETTERS

Who is the most popular man in your town? The Postman. Who is the man who is most eagerly looked for as he comes down the street? The Postman. Who receives, at every door where he stops, a most cordial welcome? The Postman. I wonder if the thrill of getting a letter will ever pass away. When you come home from school the first thing you do is to look on the hall table to see if the Postman has brought you a letter. It is the same when we grow up. No matter how many letters we may receive we never get over the keen delight at having the Postman bring us letters.

Last Sunday afternoon you wrote your grandmother. You said, "Only two months more of school and then I am coming to see you, and all the summer vacation I am going to play around your big house, and in the barn, and across the fields, and through the woods." On your way to school Monday morning, you posted that letter. Monday afternoon you began looking for an answer. Tuesday you were impatient that you had not received a reply. Wednesday you were almost in tears, though, had you only stopped to think you would have known that it takes two days for a letter to get to your grandmother, she lives so far away. Thursday the answer came. "I am eager for vacation time to come so that you, my dear grandchild, may be here with me."

I have here an unusual book. It is a book of letters. All the letters were written by a big man, a father, to little children, his children. The man who wrote them was Theodore Roosevelt. What fortunate children were his! Not many fathers take time to write to their children as did our great president. Oh, for more fathers like Roosevelt! Oh, for appreciative children, who will not only gladly receive, but cheerfully write, letters of love!

MEMORY VERSE, I John 2: 12

MEMORY HYMN [544]

A UNIQUE PSALM

I want to tell you about a unique Psalm. Which Psalm is it? It is the 119th.

The 119th Psalm is unique because of its length. It is the longest of the Psalms. It has one hundred and seventy-six verses.

It is unique because of its arrangement. It is divided into twenty-two equal parts. Each part contains eight verses.

Again, the 119th Psalm is an acrostic, or an alphabetical Psalm. It is built around the Hebrew alphabet. Each of the twenty-two portions begins with one of the letters of the Hebrew alphabet.

The Psalm is unique because of its content. It is given over entirely to a consideration of the law and commandments of God. Indeed, if you will read the Psalm, you will find that every verse says something about the precepts, or the statutes, or the commandments, or the word of God.

The 119th Psalm contains some of the verses with which we are most familiar. "Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed thereto according to thy word." "Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law." "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path."

The Psalm reaches its highest point, and finds its fullest expression in the 94th verse, three words, "I am thine."

Young people, I want you to read this 119th Psalm, and when you come to the 94th verse I want you to stop and say over very earnestly, very prayerfully, "I am thine." And may you be His for all time is my prayer.

MEMORY VERSE, Psalm 119: 94

MEMORY HYMN [342]

THE FATHER'S CARE

I have here a nut. It is a pecan. It grows in our southern states. It is a well formed nut with a hard shell. This nut I have is cracked. I open it and I notice just inside a thin, brown coating that covers the meat. I touch this coating to my lips. It is bitter and causes me to pucker my lips. This is the Creator's blessed provision for the protection of the nut in its growing stage. The bitter coating keeps insects and pests away.

On my way to church this morning I looked up and saw a long piece of yarn flying across the street at a rapid rate. I wondered what could cause that. Then at the front end of the yarn I saw a bird. The bird flew to the gable of a big house. There, in a protected corner, she was making her nest. The yarn was to be woven into her new spring house. So God gives instinct to birds and all his creatures as a mark of his loving care.

The most delicate, sensitive portion of your body is the eye. When I consider how tender and open to harm the eye is I wonder that so many of us go through life with our eyes unhurt. But God has provided a sleepless protection for our eyes. There is a guard, always on duty. Whenever danger comes near, that guard, our eyelid, closes and effectively wards off impending trouble.

We started with the lowest form of life, an inanimate nut. Now we come to the highest, the soul of man. For in each one of you there is something eternal, something akin to God himself. The name we give that eternal spirit is the soul. For the protection of our soul God gives us faith, a sense of right and wrong, conscience, the still small voice. He surrounds us with Christian homes, the Church, helpful fellowship, the means of grace. All these things are a protection for the soul.

MEMORY VERSE, Matthew 6: 28, 29

MEMORY HYMN [517]

YOKES

A Yoke is a help, not a hindrance. Our first thought is that a yoke is burdensome. A little study reveals to us the great usefulness of the yoke.

Have you ever seen a yoke of oxen? What heavy, slow-moving creatures they are! But they are pullers of heavy loads. These loads could not be drawn by them were they not yoked together.

Now there are different kinds of yokes, that is, there are many ways of rendering easier the carrying of heavy loads. For example, there is the Oriental way. First, there is the manner in which one man will carry a heavy load. He takes a pole, on each end of the pole hangs a rope. Then he divides his load, fastening half of his load to either rope. He gets beneath the pole, which is shaped to fit his shoulder, lifts, and off he trots as easily and jauntily as can be. Sometimes the load is too heavy for one man. He then summons a companion. They get a longer, heavier pole, with a much stouter rope. This time they do not divide the load, rather they keep it together. They fasten the rope securely about it, and then tie it about the pole. The men stoop, one at each end of the heavy pole. They stand up straight, the load is lifted from the ground, only a few inches perhaps, but enough to clear the ground, then, singing and laughing, keeping perfect time each with the other, they swing down the street. It is incredible the heavy loads they carry. I could not believe my eyes when I looked upon some of them.

Jesus perfectly understood the helpfulness and value of the yoke. He made it most beautiful in that he told his followers that he would help them, that he would carry his part of the burden, that he would share with them the other side of the yoke.

MEMORY VERSE, Matthew 11: 29-30

MEMORY HYMN [449]

GOOD ADVICE

Most of us, men and women as well as girls and boys, do not take kindly to advice. We very much prefer that people keep their advice to themselves. There are times, however, when we are compelled to listen to advice, because of the source. Here is a bit of advice that commands our attention. It is from the great English novelist, Charles Dickens.

Charles Dickens' youngest boy, Edward, left home when he was sixteen years of age and went to Australia. His father wrote him a parting letter, which is worth while for all boys, whether or no they leave home. In that letter the great Dickens said,

"I put a New Testament among your books for the very same reasons and with the very same hopes that made me write an easy account of it for you when you were a little child. Because it is the best book that ever was or ever will be in the world. And because it teaches you the best lessons by which any human creature who tries to be truthful and faithful to duty can possibly be guided. As your brothers have gone away, one by one, I have written to each such words as I am now writing to you and have entreated them all to guide themselves by this book, putting aside the interpretations and inventions of men. Never abandon the wholesome practice of saying your own private prayers, night and morning. I have never abandoned it myself, and I know the comfort of it."

Now that we are done reading this letter it does not sound like advice at all, does it. It is all so wholesome and sturdy that we feel like speaking right out loud, "Thank you, Mr. Dickens, thank you very much."

MEMORY VERSE, Psalm 119: 9

MEMORY HYMN [205]

IF I WERE A BOY AGAIN

Chicago University, one of the great schools of America and the world, received its impetus from the tireless energy and brilliant leadership of its great President, Dr. Harper. After his death there was found among his papers a memorandum which read as follows:

"If I were a boy again I would strive to find out from goods books how good men lived.

"If I were a boy again I would study the Bible even more than I did. I would make it a mental companion. The Bible is a necessity for every boy.

"If I were a boy again I would more and more cultivate the company of those older whose graces of person and mind would help me on in my good work. I would always seek good company.

"If I were a boy again I would study the life and character of our Saviour, persistently, that I might become more and more like unto him."

Now President Harper was a great, wise and good man. If he felt that he would do certain things were he a boy again, surely the rest of us could improve upon our boyhood years had we the chance.

If I were a boy again I would be more attentive to Church and Sunday School and the things that were taught me there. If I were a boy again I would get my day school lessons with greater care. If I were a boy again I would be more obedient to and more thoughtful of my parents.

Why should I talk like this, for I cannot be a boy again? But you boys have your boyhood. It is a present reality. Let President Harper teach you. Be the boy he pictures.

MEMORY VERSE, Psalm 103: 1-5

MEMORY HYMN [678]

ONE BY ONE

Here is this great church building. It is a beautiful structure, is it not? It is so substantial, it has stood here so many years, we take it so for granted that it seems as though it had always been here. But there was a day when the ground upon which this building stands was vacant ground. Then men came with picks and shovels, wagons and plows, and set to work. They laid the foundations, stone upon stone. Then the walls rose, stone upon stone. Then the spire, stone upon stone, until the very peak was reached, for our church is stone from the foundation to the top of the spire. How were these thousands of stones put in place? One by one.

Think also of the roof of our church. It is a tile roof. How in the world did they get all those tiles up on the roof and fitted in place? Did some man who was very strong stand back and throw a handful of tile at the roof? No, it was done one by one.

To-day it is snowing outside. Some one has figured that in a square mile one foot of snow would weigh 65,000 tons. If you should take sleds and horses, and put a ton of snow on each sled, and arrange the horses and sleds in a procession, the sleds carrying the snow from that square mile of territory would reach from Philadelphia to New York, and beyond New York, straight up the Hudson, almost to Albany. That is only one square mile, and there are thousands of square miles every winter covered with snow. How does this snow come? In tiny flakes, one by one.

It is the same with life. God gives us many days, but he sends them one at a time. He also sends us many duties, but they do not come en masse. He is good and sends them one by one.

MEMORY VERSE, Matthew 6: 34

MEMORY HYMN [419]

COME

There is not a girl or boy here this morning who does not feel within the desire to do good. The drawing power of good—in other words, the drawing power of God. He it is who says to you, "Come."

I want to illustrate this by a few things which I have here. The first is this magnet. And here are some small nails. These tiny nails represent girls and boys of about eleven or twelve years of age. I apply the magnet to these nails and I lift up—can you see me—twenty-five or thirty nails. You see it is a great deal easier to respond to the drawing power of good, to answer the great "Come," in girlhood and boyhood.

Now here are some nails that are a little larger. I can lift up only five or six of these larger nails. They represent young people of eighteen or nineteen. As one gets older he does not hear as readily, at least he does not answer, Christ's blessed "Come."

Next we have some nails still larger. The magnet will lift up only one or two of these. They stand for men and women in mature life. Oh, if one has not responded to Christ's call in childhood or youth, it becomes increasingly difficult as the years pass. How seldom, how very seldom, does an aged one answer the divine call and give his heart to the Lord!

Here is a very large nail, and it is rusty. Indeed it is literally coated with rust. This represents the life that is deep in sin. For long years this life has been persisting in his evil ways. As the magnet must be very strong to penetrate the rust and grip the nail, so Christ's call must be strong and loving to reach the sinful soul. Christ can save "from the uttermost," but how much better it is to say in early youth, "I hear thy voice, my Lord. Gladly I come."

MEMORY VERSE, Matthew 11: 28

MEMORY HYMN [462]

LOVE AND LOYALTY

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a man who had a wife and two sons. There was a famine in the land where he lived, so he said to his wife and sons, "We will journey down to another country where the crops have not failed. There shall we find plenty to eat, and there will we make our home."

So the family moved to the strange land where they prospered and were happy. In time the boys grew to young manhood and married young women of the new land where they dwelt. Then sorrow entered their homes, as sorrow comes sooner or later to every home. The father and the two sons died, and the mother and her two daughters-in-law were left alone. The mother, whose name was Naomi, said, "I am going back to the land where I lived in former days, back to the people of my girlhood." The young women said, "We shall go with you also." "No," replied Naomi, "you must not do that. Go back to your homes, there you shall be cared for, and may the Lord deal gently with you."

The names of these two daughters-in-law were Ruth and Orpah. It was Ruth who then spoke up and said in words that are not surpassed in all the English language:

Great words are these, words of love and loyalty.

MEMORY VERSE, Exodus 20: 12

MEMORY HYMN [668]

KUMMOGOKDONATTOOTTAMMOCTITEAONGANNUNNONASH

What do you think of this word? It contains forty-two letters.

What does it mean? What language is it? It means "catechism." It is the Indian language.

Now for the story. Many years ago, soon after the landing of the first Pilgrim Fathers in New England, there was a man by the name of John Eliot, who came to this new and unsettled country of America. He was a devoted Christian, an earnest, patient, persistent missionary. He lived for sixty years in Massachusetts, and most of those years were spent among the redskins who inhabited that section. He loved them, worked with them, learned their language, reduced it to writing, then translated for them the Scriptures. He was called, and he is still known by the name, "Apostle to the Indians." The word at the head of the page shows what labors he entered into. All this was made possible through putting into practice his own motto, "Prayer and pains, through faith in Christ, will do anything."

What good John Eliot did for the Indians some one must have done for the human race. Who invented the first alphabet? Who conceived the idea of letters? Who planned out the putting of certain letters together to form a word, then placing certain words in a string to form a sentence, that sentence conveying an idea? Who did all this? We do not know. The blessed work has gone on, until the knowledge of letters is so taken for granted that we have a saying, "as plain as ABC."

The Bible has almost kept pace with language. There are few languages to-day into which the Word has not been translated. We shall not rest until every child of every tongue is able to read God's message of love and salvation in the language in which he was born.

MEMORY VERSE, Luke 4: 16