NO ONE LIVETH TO HIMSELF.
By Mary Martin
Oh, that we might realize the full import of these words, “Except ye have the mind of Christ ye are none of his.” But where is the spirit of self-renunciation exemplified as in the life of the Pattern? The tide of worldliness and temptation is taking out of our reach a large proportion of those for whom the Saviour spilled his blood; and who is prepared to take the life-boats to those who are in imminent danger? What a sad commentary on professed Christianity was the remark of a criminal while being accompanied to the gallows, “Had I received one-half the kindness earlier in life which I have here received, I should never have been here.” Overcome by temptation, weakened by the fall, priest and Levite passing by on the other side, how many sink to rise no more! Who will recognize the jewel though its luster be dimmed? Who appreciates the desires still remaining to lead a better life? Some have inherited a puritanical disposition to do that which is right, and they look upon those less favored as scarcely worth making an effort to save. Such, perhaps, have as little of the spirit of Christ as those who have constantly to battle with temptation. If God, who has “made us to differ,” has given aspirations for the pure and holy, he most assuredly has a design in so doing. But how often is this sterling integrity of character connected with those qualities which, instead of winning, repel; and those who lack moral stamina, and have become weaker by yielding to temptation, are chilled by the forbidding aspect of those whose course of action seems to say, “I am holier than thou;” and they pass on down the road to death. Let us read more carefully the parable of the Pharisee and publican, and then, turning to the parable of the “lost sheep,” humble ourselves and draw near to God. When we realize our own weakness we shall love and pity others, and feel something of the longsuffering toward our fellow-clay which God has manifested toward us. An anecdote is related of the good John Wesley, who in a morning walk discovered in a ditch a man who had fallen there on account of intemperance. As he looked upon one “made a little lower than the angels,” but who had brought himself to this sad condition, the good man's soul was moved with pity, and recognizing a brother, though fallen, he exclaimed, “But for the grace of God, there lies John Wesley.” Since the departure from earth of Him who went about doing good, there have ever been those who, imitating his example, have forsaken wealth and ease, and have spent their lives in His service who has said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me.” Madam Guyon, whom wealth, position, superior intellectual endowments, and great personal beauty, had combined to exempt from contact with the common people, thought it not beneath her to minister to the wants of the lowest. Like him whose name has been immortalized in sacred story, she chose to “suffer affliction with the people of God rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.” Her prison walls, though excluding heaven’s free air and the light of day, could not debar her from holding sweet communion with her Saviour. Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambray, is another striking illustration of unselfish love for fellow-mortals. Prizing the favor of God more than that of his earthly king, he cheerfully submitted to banishment; and while restricted to the limits of a single diocese, he found happiness in relieving the personal wants and sufferings of the common people, while pointing them to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world. “He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” “Jesus wept”! More of this same spirit of love and sympathy for others’ woes would perchance insure us success where we now so often meet with defeat in our efforts to win souls to the service of God and the love of truth. Has the pitiless storm fallen upon your pathway, and have life’s brightest hopes been wrecked amid the breakers? Are you sitting with clasped hands, your heart’s chambers locked, that no intruder may cross the threshold to bring a bitter memory to light? Have you aught too sacred for the use of perishing mortals, when the Saviour poured out his soul unto death for you? It may not be your duty to bring in detail the buried bitterness of the past, only equaled perhaps by the living sorrow of the present, to the public gaze of those who would only wonder, not understand; but from those dark providences, with God’s help you may obtain a rich experience which will enable you to reach the heart of some one struggling for life, yet who, for want of a word, might be irretrievably lost. “For as in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man.” Does your natural reserve prevent you from approaching others to render the assistance you would gladly give? God will help even here. His hand shall stay the Red Sea’s waters for your crossing. Canaan, with its milk and honey, its vine’s rich fruitage, is before you; and Egypt, with all its darkness, behind. In the strength of Him who has promised, “I will hold thy hand and keep thee,” pass over and appease your soul-hunger in the green pastures beyond, and quench your thirst at that living fountain earth’s travelers may never find unless Heaven-taught. “So shall you of some have compassion, making a difference; and others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire,” and you at last having turned many to righteousness, shall shine as the stars forever and ever. Mary Martin. From The Missionary Worker.