One of the New York dailies printed in one of its issues as a sort of sensational advertisement, coupons, which served, when filled out, as life insurance policies for the remainder of the day on which they were issued. One of the newsboys read it over and over, then called some of his companions and wanted to know if they supposed that “was on the level”; if the newspaper “would make good.” He decided at last that the proposition was one to be trusted and he cut out the coupon, tucked it away in the pocket of his ragged coat. A half-hour later he threw himself beneath the wheels of one of the surface electric cars and was instantly crusht to almost a shapeless mass. In his pocket was the coupon, together with a letter, stating that his mother was sick and in need of such assistance as he had not been able to obtain for her, and so had sacrificed his life for the insurance money that was to be paid to her.
As we read the story one does not think of the grimy hands and the unwashed face and the ragged coat. He does not hear the roar of the elevated trains above or the tumult and voices of the street below, but his eyes catch the glory of a second calvary and the soul is hushed before the divine and the eternal that beat in that little heart behind that stained and tattered coat. (Text.)
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See [Offerings, Extravagant]; [Science, Devotion to].
SACRIFICE, FILIAL
The Japanese have a legend of an Emperor who commanded a bell-founder to cast a bell that would be more beautiful than any ever made and to be heard a hundred miles away. It must be made of gold, silver and brass. But the metals would not mingle, and the founder failed. The Emperor was angry, and bade him try again. His beautiful daughter was troubled for her father in his perplexity. So she consulted an oracle. “How can I save him?” she asked. “Metals will mingle if the blood of a virgin be mixt with them,” said the oracle suggestively. At the proper moment the devoted daughter threw herself into her father’s melting-pot. The bell was perfect, and was hung in the palace tower.
This kind of sacrifice is not to be commended as a literal process, but it remains true that no great music of the soul is born that does not have in it some sacrificial element. Heaven’s melodies would never sound if lives were not cast into the furnace. (Text.)
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SACRIFICE FOR CHRIST