Religion has not done much for a man if it has not moderated the savage passions of his nature. Prof. Fred. M. Davenport says:
I once spent an evening listening, with a couple of friends, to an old darky’s account of his conversion. He had reached the climax of the recital, was in a considerable state of ecstasy, and was very anxiously seeking to impress us all with his spiritual experience, when suddenly his dog began barking furiously just behind him and utterly broke the continuity of his thought and of his speech. I think no one of us will ever forget the dash of savagery that came into his face as he turned with flashing eye and foaming lip upon that canine intruder. It was a startling transition, revealing the crater of primitive passion just underneath the crust of religious culture and nurture.—The Contemporary Review.
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RELIGION THAT WEARS
The Persian carpet may be meant for the feet, but few things are so full of lessons for head and heart and life. When choosing one the first thing to do is to make sure that the colors are fast, which is done by moistening a handkerchief and rubbing the carpet to see if the color comes off. Next, count the stitches. A good carpet contains 10,000 stitches to the square foot, while the better ones have as many as 40,000. The weaver does not see the pattern as he works, as the reverse side of the web is toward him. When a native buys a new carpet he immediately puts it down in the bazaars for all the traffic to pass over it; and the more muddy the shoes of the passers-by the greater will be the beauty of the carpet afterward, provided the colors are fast, as it acquires that beautiful silky gloss, so dear to the heart of the carpet-lover.
A man needs a character that will wear, whose colors are fast, and that will grow more beautiful when exposed for the world’s use.
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RELIGION TO DIE BY
Wesley always insisted on judging religion by the most severely practical tests. Life was one test, and he mistrusted profoundly a religion which did not fill life or its possessor with gladness and strength. But he knew that death, with its mystery and loneliness, was the last and sorest test of religion. Did the religion he preached make that last darkness luminous? Did it put songs on dying lips and gladness in dying hearts? “The world,” wrote Wesley, “may not like our Methodists, but the world can not deny that they die well,” and the religion which teaches men to die well may surely find in that fact its best credentials.—W. H. Fitchett, “Wesley and His Century.”
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