Los Angeles herald., 1907-11-04
DR.. BURDETTE CONTINUES
SERMONS ON LORDS PRAYER
"Gve Us This Day Our Daily Bread"
Is subIeet-FoIIows Steps Of
Answering of Babes
Plea

Pastor Robert J. Burdette, continuing
the course of morning sermons on THE
Lords Prayer" yesterday preached on
the text, "Give us this day our daily
bread" at Temple Baptist church.
"a thankless table, spread with the
simplest bounties which all the money in
the world cannot supply, which can only
come from God, is not so much table
as it is a mere feeding trough, to which
group of animals is attracted by the
smell of food" he said. II have heard
people. say that this petition is the only
one in the prayer that is purely human,
animal, devoid of spirituality. How can
they think so? Here; a little girl kneels
down beside her bed in the morning and
prays the prayer the dear Elder Brother
taught us, Give us this day our daily
bread and God hears and makes ready
to answer the little ones prayer. Day
light and the east unfolding like rose.
A. CHEEKY whistle and the plowman stands
at the handles of the plow. A shout and
the steady old plow horses lean up into
the collars and the bright plowshare
CLEANS along the brown burrows and the
sweet, wholesome smell of the fresh, up
turned earth ascends like the incense of
the morning sacrifice. Then the, sower
comes along and broadcast he scatters
the seed over all the field and harrow
or roller smooth the field after him, max
ing 1t ready for easy reaping in the time
of the harvest that everybody knows
is coming.
"Then God steps into the field as his
human yokefellows go out. He sends the
softest, warmest rains and 10, the brown
field is green as living emerald. Then
he sends the mighty sun to smile upon
it and the ripening winds to caress 1t
and behold the green field is golden.
Then the reapers come with sweeping
cradles ringing and swishing down the
long, wide swaths, or the great machines
go clattering along the length and
breadth of the far-reaching acres.
1.-THE hum of the thresher takes up the
wonderful anthem of the harvest. Then,
'tic-tac, tic-tac, goes the MILL and the
valley echoes with the songs of plenty.
'Then the white flour sack with its
blue lettering stands in its place in the
clean kitchen; the mother in her long
apron sifts the loveliest summer snow
storm into the round kneading bowl,
while little children stand around looking
in wondering admiration at the way she
pats the yielding loaves into exactly the
same shape
"Then the brown tinted loaves come
out of the furnace of the oven with a
honey fragrance that makes the nostrils
BldQ anu liS AlOulH AunSiJs 1AO SSH
rings, the family gathers at the table,
the cloth is dainty as purity, the silver
CLEANS like art sunshine, the coffee urn
blesses the feast with grateful aroma,
city escaping; the children, restless
and joyous and hungry, huddle into their
places with the delightful little confusion
Of the morning life; the baby in his high
chair drums with his spoon on the table
to announce to the rest of the family
that he is ready for his breakfast; the
dear wife. sitting behind the sugar bowl,
sweeter a thousand fold than anything
there is or ever has been or ever will
be in it, lays a restraining hand upon
the baby fingers; her tender lips purse
themselves into an inaudible 'sh; the
fathe- bows his head, while all the little
heads are dropped like dainty blossoms;
for moment everything is still: and as
the amen is said. God. who has been
waiting behind all the chairs all the
time. bends down and lays into dimpled
hand the snowy slice papa has just cut
from the loaf and says. There, dear
child, there's your bread
"oh, mani Can't you see GOD the ALI