A poor, degraded woman was being led from the police court. She was dirty, full of sin, and sobbing with hopeless distress. A Christian woman saw her, and moved by the compassion of Christ, swept up to her and kissed her. She had never been noticed or shown love by a clean woman for years. It broke her heart. She was soon released and nursed back to health in the Christian woman's home. That Christian worker moved into a new experience in Christ, as a compassion for the unlovely possessed her.—The Pentecostal Testimony.
A deacon living in a Berkshire tow: was requested to give his prayers in behalf of a poor man with a large family who had broken his leg. "I can't stop now to pray," said the deacon (who was picking and barreling his early apples for the city market), "but you can go down into the cellar and get some corned beef, salt pork, potatoes, and butter; that's the best I can do."—Sunday School Chronicle.
An American who was walking down the streets of a Chinese city was greatly interested in the children, many of whom were carrying smaller children upon their backs, and managing at the same time to play their games, says a writer in the Youth's Companion.
"It is too bad," the American sympathetically said to one little fellow, "that you have to carry such a heavy burden!"
"He's no burden," came the quick reply; "he's my brother."
"Well, you are chivalrous to say so!" said the man, and he gave the boy some money.
When the American reached home he said to his family: "A little Chinese boy has taught me the fullest meaning of the words, `Bear ye one another's burdens. and so fulfill the law of Christ."' He recounted his interview, and added: "If a little Chinese boy can carry and care for his brother and refuse to consider him as a burden, surely we ought not to think it a burden to carry our little brothers, the weak and the needy ones, who look to us for help. Let us rejoice as we carry one, and say, by our actions, `He's no burden; he's my brother.'"—Rescue Journal.
A storm swept the ocean just off the coast of Scotland. Far out in the black trough of the angry waters a ship had gone to pieces. The life-boat set out from shore in the face of what seemed almost certain disaster, but it came back with all the ship's crew except one. To have taken another in would have meant the sinking of the boat. As they came to shore the leader said, "There's another man! We need volunteers for his rescue. These men are exhausted."
Among those stepping forward was a fine-looking young Scotchman in the very prime of his life. His white-haired mother came and put her arms about him and said, "Don't go, John; years ago your father perished in the storm at sea. You know that just last year your brother William went to sea and never came back, and I guess he, too, must have gone down. John, you are the only one left, and if you should perish what would I do? Don't go, John; your mother begs you to stay."
He took her arms from about his neck and said, "Mother, I must go; a man is in peril and I would feel like a coward not to go. God will take care of us." He printed a kiss on her cheek and sprang into the boat. Every minute the fury of the storm increased. The elements seemed to vie with each other to see which one could do the worst. Down into the trough and up over the waves they went. A whole hour they were gone, and finally in dim outline they were seen beating their way back. As they came within hailing distance someone from the shore cried, "Have you found the man?" And standing in the bow of the boat John shouted back, "Yes, we've saved him, and tell my dear old mother it's brother William!"—William Edward Biederwolf, in Frozen Assets.
A little four-year-old African girl had been sold as a slave. She had never known what love was. Even her name, Keodi, meant "Nobody loves me!"
When she grew to be about ten years old, her body became covered with ugly sores. The natives turned her out and would have nothing to do with her. But some kind missionaries took Keodi in and cleaned her up, cared for her sores, and put clothes on her.
At first she could not believe any one loved her. She went about saying, "I am only Keodi; nobody loves me." The missionaries told her that Jesus loved her, and tried to teach her what love meant. Then she looked down at her dress, clean body and bandaged sores, and said, "Is this love?" They told her that it was.
Yes love is shown by kindness and giving. God showed His great love to us by giving His dear and only Son to die for us. Jesus showed His love for us by giving His life for us. He did not only say He loved us, but He showed His love by suffering in our place. Should we not then give Him our whole lives? Then we can love Him, too.—Gospel Chimes.
Dr. Richard F. Brown is a Canadian medical missionary who, when his station was taken by the Japanese, started traveling through the provinces of Shensi and Shansi, traveling a thousand miles on foot. He has ministered to all sorts and conditions from the foremost leaders of Communist China to humble peasants, soldiers, and civilians—Chinese and Japanese without distinction. At times he has walked thirty miles a day, working along the road from dawn to dusk. In one district alone, within a radius of three miles, were 1,400 sick and wounded and neither doctors nor supplies. "It was trying to be awakened every morning by the sick and wounded pulling at your bedclothes, but you get used to it." It was to Dr. Brown that Chub Teh, the Communist general, expressed his gratitude for the help rendered China by medical missionaries, declaring his wish to cooperate with them.—Sunday School Times.
In an engine-room it is impossible to look into the great boiler and see how much water it contains. But running up beside it is a tiny glass tube, which serves as a gauge. As the water stands in the little tube, so it stands in the great boiler. When the tube is half full, the boiler is half full; when the tube is empty, the boiler is empty. Do you ask, "How do I know I love God? I believe I love Him, but I want to know." Look at the gauge. Your love for your brother is the measure of your love for God.—S. S. Chronicle.