In the lumber camps in the mountains there is a trail that leads through the fastness of the wooded mountain side covered by wood chips, so as to make it conspicuous by night as well as by day. The woodsmen some time wander far away from camp and are lost in the primeval forest. In their wanderings, if they can “hit the trail,” they are saved, as it leads to the safety and shelter of the camp. So on the pathway of life if you can, “hit the trail,” of God’s mercy through the Lord Jesus Christ you are led to safety. So these rude lumbermen called the giving up of self to God and going down the sawdust isle of the tabernacle—“Hitting the Trail.”
The phrase stuck to the Sunday party ever since and it has a thrilling touch of the wildwood and a meaning that is very appropriate and beautiful when taken in the language of the backwoods.
TRYING TO SERVE GOD AND THE DEVIL.
It would almost be a blessing if a wave of scarlet fever or small-pox could visit some city just after a revival and sweep into heaven thousands who had been converted before they were given a chance to backslide.
Lots of people never get any place to backslide from.
The man who keeps his store open on Sunday is an anarchist. I don’t mean the hotel man or the restaurant proprietor, for some things are an absolute necessity.
You never saw a dancing, card-playing and theatre-gadding church member that amounted to the snap of your finger.
Belonging to a church won’t save you. A thief can be a church member.
There’s too much playing tag with God, and hide-and-seek with the devil nowadays.