CROSS CENTRAL
It is said that two famous enemies of Christianity were once talking together of a plan for the reconstruction of religion. They believed only in the enjoyment of the life that now is. They talked of the building of a temple which would express the religious impulse and yet lay stress on the glory of the life that now is. And after they had talked of marvelous music, forever in the major key, they admitted that something was lacking in their scheme. “I know what it is,” finally declared one. “It is that hymn, ‘O Sacred Head Now Wounded.’ Without that there is a fatal lack of beauty and of power.” And this goes down pretty far toward the center. The compelling beauty of Christianity is in its doctrine of self-sacrifice. The cross sets the Christian teaching on high.—Francis J. McConnell.
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CROSS, CHARM OF THE
Rev. Edward Payson Scott, Baptist missionary in Assam, was strongly moved to visit a wild hill tribe—the Nagas—three days’ journey from his station, whereas yet he had made only a start in the Naga language and had to take a Naga teacher along. He was strongly urged by the British resident officer not to run such risk, but he could not be deterred; and, when an escort of soldiers was offered him, he firmly declined, as it would defeat the very end in view, which was to go as a messenger of peace. A military escort would give a false impression of his whole spirit and motive.
So with a native companion he set out, and when they reached the base of the mountain ridge where the native village crowned the summit, and began the ascent, the alarmed villagers forming in battle-line, waved their spears in menace, the chief crying out, “Halt! we know you! You are the man of the British Queen, come to make us prisoners and carry off our children. Come no nearer!”
The missionary drew out his violin, and began to sing in the native tongue, “Alas, and did my Savior bleed!” When he had sung one verse, the chief and his warriors had already thrust their spears into the ground and broken ranks. As Mr. Scott sang on, about the amazing pity, grace, love shown when the Maker died for the sin of the creature, the wild men began to creep down the hillside, nearer and nearer; and the chief cried out, “Where did you learn that? Sing us more; we never heard the like before.” The savages were subdued. The stranger was safe from their spears, and welcomed to their huts and best hospitality. The cross has never lost its charm. (Text.)—Missionary Review of the World.
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CROSS GLORIOUS
My God, I have never thanked thee for my thorn. I have thanked thee a thousand times for my roses, but not once for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory. Thou divine Love whose human path has been perfected through sufferings, teach me the glory of my cross, teach me the value of my thorn.—George Matheson.