"In one of the English coal mines there is what the miners call a Sundaystone. Water charged with lime trickles through the rocks, and, as it falls, makes a deposit of pure white limestone. All the week, when the miners are at work, the dust flying about gets mixed with the lime in the water, and the stone is coal-black in color. But when the Sabbath comes, and the whirring coal dust settles, then the clean limewater drips upon the stone leaving it, as it trickles off, pure white. Regularly each week the stone shows a streak of white marking the miners' day of rest. God's day ought to be kept holy, so that each tired soul may forget the week's dark hours, and in the act of true worship find sins washed away." This incident is given here to show what mistaken ideas Christian people may have about the Lord's Day. What an unspeakably low, unscriptural thought that we must necessarily get dirtied up with sin during the week, and then once a week get clean again!—Sunday School Times.
George M. Mackie, in an article in the Sunday School Times, told the following: Some time ago when studying this incident (Mark 3:1-5) in the Hebrew New Testament with a class of Jewish schoolboys, I asked them what they thought about Christ's action. One boy said that as the man's infirmity had likely been of long standing, he could easily have waited one day more. Another said it would have saved trouble if Jesus had deferred the cure until the next day. A third maintained that there had been no infringement of the Sabbath law because the act of healing had not involved any manual operation. Finally the discussion was broken up by the question of a blind boy of the class—What would you have preferred if you had had the withered hand?—The King's Business.
"I love your English Sunday, your Christian Sabbath, and should be very sorry to see it pass away. If a Jew may be pardoned for making this suggestion to Christians, let me say this: If you sacrifice the Sunday you have been brought up to respect, you will lose something you will be sorry for the whole of your lives." This was the comment made in the Council Chamber at Middlesbrough by Mr. Jules Reubens, a local member, who is a cinema proprietor. Mr. Reubens was speaking against a resolution for Sunday opening of picture houses.—Christian Herald (London).
There is a story told in Benjamin Franklin's autobiography of a clergyman who was ordered to read the proclamation issued by Charles I, bidding the people to return to sports on Sundays. To the congregation's amazement and horror, he did read the Royal edict in church, which many clergy had refused to do. But he followed it with the words, "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy," and added, "Brethren, I have laid before you the commandment of your king and the commandment of your God. I leave it to you to judge which of the two ought rather to be observed."—Christian Herald.
During the last war an Indian maharaja, conversing with an American, asked him: "Do you know why God is punishing the Christians by letting them fight and destroy each other as they are?" Answering his own question he then said: "If I paid as little attention to my religion as most Christians paid to theirs, I would expect God to punish me." Then the Hindu prince explained that though less than one per cent of the officials in his employ were British, yet for their sake he kept all his offices closed on Sunday, and had built two Christian churches, that they might have both time and place for worship. But he went on to say that services were held only about once in three months. "What do they do on Sunday?" he asked. "They go hunting, boating, tennising, racing, playing cards. If you ask me why God is punishing the Christian nations, I think that there you have the answer." There is a Hindu for you on the subject of the Christian and the Lord's Day.—Sunday School Times.
Two young men, seated in the early morning train on Monday, were speaking of how tired they were, more than on Saturday night. One related having driven to the shore in his new car, and said, "Never again for me!" "Have trouble?" the other asked. "No, but you know what that road is like on Sunday. At the height of the homecoming traffic there is a line of cars end to end, mile after mile, all the way across the state to the ferries—'the sinners' parade,' someone near me in a jam called it jeeringly. That phrase stuck in my mind. Of course they were not all sinners—no doubt there were preachers, church workers, and doctors on their various errands. Let's be charitable. But I can't get away from the thought of the noise. the dust, the un-Sabbath-like gayety and worldliness of the crowds, the many disabled cars and the one accident when several were seriously hurt. Don't think I am a coward," he continued, "that I am afraid of getting hurt physically. I can take my chances with the rest. But I am afraid of hurts that go deeper. I'm afraid to parade with the sinners when I ought to be in church with the saints."—Youth's Companion.