A friend of mine was once taken by an old man to see his riches. He took him to a splendid mansion, and said, "This is all mine." He pointed to a little town, "That is mine; it is called by my name." He pointed to a rolling prairie, "That is all mine; the sun never shone on a finer prairie than that, so fruitful and rich, and it's all mine." In another direction he showed him fertile farms extending for thirty miles, "These are all mine." He took him into his grand house, showed him his beautiful pictures, his costly gold plate, his jewels, and still he said, "These are all mine. This grand hall I have built; it is called by my name; there is my insignia on it. And yet I was once a poor boy. I have made it all myself."
My friend looked at him. "Well, you've all this on earth; but what have you got up there?"
"Up where?" said the old man.
"Up in heaven."
"Well, I'm afraid I haven't got much up there."
"Ah," said my friend, "but you've got to die, to leave this world; what will you take with you of all these things? You will die a beggar; for all these riches count as nothing in the kingdom of heaven. You will be a pauper; for you have no inheritance with the saints above." The poor old man (he was poor enough in reality, though rich in all the world's goods) burst into tears. He had no hope for the future. In four months' time he was dead; and where is he now? He lived and died without God, and without hope in this world or the next.
Touching the Spot
When a man has broken his arm, the surgeon must find out the exact spot where the fracture is. He feels along and presses gently with his fingers.
"Is it there?"
"No,"
"Is it there?"
"No."
Presently, when the surgeon touches another spot, "Ouch!" says the man.
He has found the broken part, and it hurts.
It is one thing to hear a man preach down other people's sins. Men will say, "That is splendid," and will want all their friends to go and hear the preacher. But let him touch on their individual sin, and declare, as Nathan did to David, "Thou art the man," and they say, "I do not like that." The preacher has touched a sore place.
The Little Boy and the Big Book
I like to think of Christ as a burden bearer.
A minister was one day moving his library upstairs. As he was going up with a load of books, his little boy came in, and was very anxious to help his father. So his father just told him to go and get an armful, and bring them upstairs. When the father came back, he met the little fellow about half-way up, tugging away at the biggest book in the library. He couldn't manage to carry it up. It was too big. So he sat down and cried.
His father found him, and just took him in his arms, book and all, and carried him upstairs. So Christ will carry you and all your burdens, if you will but let Him.
The Invitation to a Saloon Opening
They were going to have a great celebration at the opening of a saloon and billiard hall in Chicago, in the northern part of the city, where I lived. It was to be a gateway to death and to hell, one of the worst places in Chicago. As a joke they sent me an invitation to go to the opening. I took the invitation, and went down and saw the two men who had the saloon, and I said:
"Is that a genuine invitation?"
They said it was.
"Thank you," I said; "I will be around, and if there is anything here I don't like I may have something to say about it."
They said, "You are not going to _preach_, are you?"
"I may."
"We don't want you. We won't let you in."
"How are you going to keep me out?" I asked. "There is the invitation."
"We will put a policeman at the door."
"What is the policeman going to do with that invitation?"
"We won't let you in."
"Well," I said, "I will be there."
I gave them a good scare, and then I said, "I will compromise the matter; if you two men will get down here and let me pray with you, I will let you off."
I got those two rum-sellers down on their knees, one on one side of me and the other on the other side, and I prayed God to save their souls and smite their business. One of them had a Christian mother, and he seemed to have some conscience left. After I had prayed, I said:
"How can you do this business? How can you throw this place open to ruin the young men of Chicago?"
Within three months the whole thing smashed up, and one of them was converted shortly after. I have never been invited to a saloon since.
"Too Late!"