Los Angeles herald., 1907-04-08
FORTY-THREE JOIN
TEMPLE BAPTIST
EVENING MUSICAL PROGRAM IS
EXCELLENT
Prayer Of Aeur for Neither Poverty
Nor Riches ls Subject Of Morn
Ing Sermon by Rev. Robert
j. Burdette

the hand OF Fellowship at the conlnuu-
ion services of the Temple Baptist
church yesterday morning.
A musical program of rare merit was
rendered by Prof. Kingsley and his
singers. Mrs Bessie Ives Harrison sang
with wonderful expression &C. Heard the
Voice of Jesus Say" by Harris. Prof.
Kingsley played Mascagn's bewitching
.sria Rustlcana" on the great
organ, and his trained chorus rendered
several numbers.
Pastor Robert j. Burdette preached
on THE Prayer Of Agur," Prov. 9O-S:
Remove far from me vanity and lies;
give me neither poverty nor riches;
feed me with the food that is needful
for me; lest / be filed and deny thee,
and say, who is the Lord?' or lest 1
bo poor and steal, and use profanely the
name Of my Cod
"Give me neither poverty nor riches" "
We are apt to begin the prayer of the
son of Jakek with this clause. We are
apt to forget that the first petition, the
first of the 1.-TWO things" for which he
begs, Is the aspiration of the spirit,
Remove far from me vanity and lies" T"
Make me more like God. Keep me from
worthlessness, insincerity and false
hood. Give me beautiful and noble esti-
mates of the real values of life. Keep
me from shame and all false ideals.
Cry of the Human
Then comes the cry of the human
Give me neither poverty nor riches.
First the cry against poverty. For
poverty in itself is no virtue, any more
than it is vice. 1t is an affliction, and
| like other Affections, it makes the heart
bitter and hard, or tender and trusting,
as the man uses it. 1t is a desert soil,
but the man makes it fruitful garden
or a barren desolation, as he cultivates
| it. The soul of job was beautiful and
true in the years of afflIence and pros
perity. 1t was sublime and majestic
and God-like in the storms of poverty
and adversely. But how many souls
can stand this test of God? There Is a
human dread of poverty. Hunger holds
men by the throat all over the world.
Every day, for the poor, begins new
battle on the old field.
When Jesus fed the hungering multi
tude they hailed him as their king-the
man greater than Caesar-the man who
could feed the poor. 1t is bitter hard
to be poor. To live day by day on the
verge of destitution. To know that
every stormy day on the calendar has
to be paid for by days wages, as
though a man was buying something
that he didn't want, and that brought
him only distress and fear and hunger
for his money.
To feel, with natural bitterne. 5. that
| he must pay, out of an empty pocket,
for a rainy day that is a welcome rest
to his rich employer. To have his hap
piness in his laughing children poisoned
by the haunting apprehension OF the
sorrow and privation that Woulc
scourge their innocent young lives Il
either the bread w'-ner or the breac
maker-God forbid-both of them
should be taken away. To count the
weekly wage every Saturday night and
portion it out, a penny for the day,
against the coming week, with only the
scantiest penny-if any at ALTO lay
by against the lurking emergency.
The sinking of the heart when one
morning the aching head cannot lift
itself from the sleepless pillow, and the
strong arms Of the wage-earner lie limp
and nerveless by the willing, eager
body, while the fever burns up its low
ing strength. When love runs on
winged feet for the doctor. When the
children begin to carry the poor house.
hold treasures to the pawnshop, and
the family studies and plans with the
mean makeshifts of poverty, have to
pay for bread out of an empty purse.
When the poor pictures fade from the
cclorless walls and the old cheap clock
silences it's CHEEKY ticking in the Uttered
Junk Of a second hand store. When the
Oldest boy, so clever, and good, and
studious, and ambitious, is taken from
the school and lofty aspirations, and
by a little lying evasion of the child
labor laws-his first lesson in CONNER
cial deceit-begins to eat his bread In
the salt sweat Of his face when he
should be shouting his glad young heart
out on a baseball field. When his sis
ter lays the foundation of broken health
and tangled nerves in the long hours of
oVerWork and under pay as cash girl
in the holiday rush at Christmas time
Christmas, the birthday of Jesus of
Bethlehem. When the starved body
dies in the mothers arms-because
there Is no other bed for the little one
in the home Of poverty-no more room
for the child of the poor in this great
big world than there was for the babe
of Bethlehem.
When at last the monthly payment
on the little home stops and the father
comes home one day and says, 1--WE Will
have to move" and the little CARLOAD
of battered and shabby household furni-
ture is heaped up on the sidewalk. And
the wind blows raw and cold from the
sea, and then-the rain slants down.
And people in storm coats hurry by,
Laughing as the WlnQ leases lnelr uIn-
brellas, dnone shouts, GLORIOUS rain, "
and the other answers, shouting back,
Worth a dollar drop" Ah, my
children. it's bitter hard to be poor.
"Give me not poverty, dear Lord" Lest
when my little ones cry for bread
curse God and strike down the first
man meet in the dark
And 1t is hard to be rich and re-
member God. "Give me neither poverty
nor riches" Give me not riches, lest
be filed, and deny thee. and say "Who
is the Lord Jehovah?" So sat an
Egyptian king on his throne, gold over
flowing his Golfers, armies maintaining
his throne, slaves obeying voice and
gesture of their royal master-a man
who had commanded and had been
obeyed all his life, Of inherited wealth
and hereditary authority Before him
stands Moses, with a mandatory mes
sage from the God of Israel, and the
naughty reply of the amazed and indig-
nant king Is: "Who is Jehovah that
should obey him?" 1t is hard to be rich
and obey God. Hard to trust In riches
and enter into the kingdom of God. 1t
is just as dangerous to a mans soul
to be rich as 1t is to be poor. A little