For thirty years the work at Ongole, India, had had so little success that there was talk of its being abandoned. When John E. Clough took charge of the work the high-caste Brahmans began to show a willingness to hear more about Christianity. But when the low-caste Telugus also desired to be taught, the high-caste rebelled. "You must have nothing to do with these people," they said, "if you expect to teach our children or to receive our support." What was to be done? Clough sought help in prayer and in the reading of his Bible. His heart took courage in the passage, "But God chose the foolish things of the world, that He might put to shame them that are wise; and God chose the weak things of the world, that He might put to shame the things that are strong." While he was readine. his wife came to his study and said she had gotten her courage from the same passage of Scripture. After this incident, mission preaching to low-caste Telugus was continued with ceaseless energy. Before a year had passed ten thousand had been added to the church. The success of the work has continued to this day.—Home Department (Baptist publication).
A colored mammy being disturbed by a racket in the kitchen discovered that her little pickaninny was wallowing in the flour barrel. "Land sake, Sonny," she said, "what am de matter wid you?" She listened to a tale of woe. He didn't like the white boys calling him "Nigger," so he was going to be like the white boys. His old mammy roared with laughter, and, setting him on her knee, said, "My boy, you'll never be white, even though you use all the flour in dat barrel. You is black 'cause it's in your blood. But, listen, sonny boy, what is more important, de Lord He done shed His blood at Calvary dat you and me might have our hearts washed white. Better have a black skin and a white heart, dan a white skin and a black heart. Dat flour can only whitewash you, but Jesus' blood can wash you white!"—Erling C. Olsen, in Meditations in the Psalms.
The newspapers have told of the "alien-laden ships" that raced over the line to gain entry into the United States, four minutes after midnight of June 30, 1923, under the new quotas of the restricted immigration law. The Philadelphia Public Ledger told of twenty-four ocean liners, carrying eleven thousand immigrants from forty-three countries, coming in at that time, with a score of others racing across the Atlantic with other thousands of hopeful immigrants who must return to the Near East and Asia after spending the savings of a lifetime on the five-thousand-mile trip. "Scores of aliens, who leaned over the ships' rails gazing wistfully at the shores of America, are doomed to disappointment, as several quotas will be filled by noon. . . . Hope and anxiety are apparent to a marked degree on the faces that line the steamers' rails, looking toward the land of promise." One cannot but contrast this situation, with its limited quotas and the necessary disappointment awaiting many who have stopped at no sacrifice to get in, with the offer of entry into a Better Land still. Heaven is opened freely to "whosoever will" receive salvation and the gift of eternal life in Christ Jesus.—Sunday School Times.
A dear fellow Christian, now a famous evangelist, tells the tale of a colored man who had turned to the Lord. Giving his testimony one time he said, "My friends, you see in me only a big, black, ugly colored man; but in God's sight I'm altogether lovely, for I'm all dressed up in Jesus." This is the truth put in a quaint way.—Our Young People's Delight.
The scene was the Rotunda of the National Capitol Building, Washington; the chief actor was Dr. Walter Brooks, 96-year-old pastor of the Nineteenth Street Baptist Church. With suppressed emotion the venerable ex-slave stood before Borglum's statue of Lincoln and said: "I was born a slave, and saw my father, mother and sister sold on the auction block as chattels, `to have and to hold with their assigns forever.' At fourteen I was emancipated with three million of my color, henceforth and forever free. I lay this memorial wreath at the feet of my emancipator, Abraham Lincoln." Once from that very spot one could have heard the auctioneer crying sales of human beings at the auction block near the foot of Capitol Hill.—Gospel Herald.