Milford chronicle., 1905-10-13

BOY. I drew for him the cross. 1
showed him how they put Christ on the
cross. dug Il hole and lifted up the
cross and pushed it in After that
became so interested in the boy l went
and visited him and sent him some
clothes, for all that he had was a meal
bag for coat.
Ready to Meet Him.
"a few months ago business called
me to Asheville. While there I went to
hunt up my little friend The mother
met me at the door and told me he
was dead. Then she told me that ali
through his last sickness he kept say
ing Mother, if die. want you to
write to that rich gentleman in the
north and tell him | am dead. And tell
him, mother. that when go to heaven
the first person l shall tell Jesus about
will be the good man from the north
who sent me clothes and told me about
how Christ died for me. And l shall /
tell Jesus that l think this good gen
tleman will be coming along soon. |
Then this friend turned to my lawyer 4.
friend and with a strange look in his .
eye said: And I believe he viii do it.
/ must be ready to do what the little
fellow told Christ l was going to do.
must be ready to go and meet him
soon.'" Widow, childless mother, bro
ken hearted man, cannot you make
your own application? In the silence
% 4bo or,rt,- homo cd &c oo Ili,rr 10
is calling in the voice Of your redeemed
loved ones. Cannot you hear him? You
must be ready to go and meet them
soom
But, strange to say, find the "silent
places" where we should hear Gods
voice in the busy noise and hustle and
hum of great city I find them amid
the changing of the electric cars. find
them in the rumble of the big factories.
find them amid the hilarities of social
gatherings as well as in the silence OF
he death chamber. These awful Isl.
ent places" should speak to us today
n Gods namei they should rouse us to
he unfulfilled opportunities of Chris
rate my thought by a simple expert
nee of my life which shows how a S
lan can be in the world and yet not (
it. Many years ago, when a college c
tudent, | had an opportunity to de-
yer a few lectures during my Thanks L
living vacation in old New England. c
Iother did not want me to go, but v
'ished to make a beginning in the u
ractice of public speaking as soon as c
Ossible. l left my Brooklyn home c
18th happy heart, but when Thanks
wing eve drew near 1 became more
ld more hOmesick Oh, how homesick g
was! That evening l was in Boston. il
walked up and down the streets with ID
1t friend. l stood in the depot and "
w the happy fathers, with their big 1
indies on their arms, heading for =
Dme. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. l
w the young married folks, with u'
nile and good cheer, taking the grand y
ildren back to the old homestead. u
saw even some who were dressed in A'
ack smiling for the sake of others.
ut, though there were laughter and ~
Olic and family gatherings all around ~
e, I was alone. was in a silent u
lce." No one cared for me. No one
all that big city spoke TO me except
business. l was in a ''silent place"
! my mind runs back those twenty B
ars l say to myself and to you, How dc
any of us are spiritually living in b.
lent places? ?" in
Neglect of Opportunities. m
Are your neighbors part of you? Do al
ay gratefully watch you? When you co
through the woods not one leaf m
rms toward you unless you make it gil
IN. Why? The leaves know you not. ed
hen you go through the streets Of a mi
eat city you meet men; you meet
ndreds of men: you meet thousands pl;