{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_50586/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_50586","id":"gutenberg_50586","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50586","summary":null,"tags":["Baseball players -- United States -- Biography","Category: Biographies","Category: History - American","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Evangelists -- United States -- Biography","Sunday, Billy, 1862-1935"],"text":"[Illustration: REVEREND WILLIAM ASHLEY SUNDAY, D.D.]\n\n\n    \"BILLY\" SUNDAY\n\n    THE MAN AND HIS MESSAGE\n\n    WITH HIS OWN WORDS\n    WHICH HAVE WON\n    THOUSANDS FOR CHRIST\n\n    BY\n    WILLIAM T. ELLIS, LL.D.\n    AUTHOR OF \"MEN AND MISSIONS\"\n\n    Authorized Edition\n\n    PHILADELPHIA\n    THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.\n    PUBLISHERS\n\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY\n  L. T. MYERS\n\n CAUTION\n\n The entire contents of this book are protected by the stringent new\n copyright law, and all persons are warned not to attempt to reproduce\n the text, in whole or in part, or any of the illustrations.\n\n\n\n\n Authorized by Mr. Sunday\n\n This work contains the heart of Mr. Sunday's gospel message arranged\n by subjects, and is published by special agreement with him for the\n use of copyright material and photographs, which could be used only by\n his permission.\n\n\n\n\nA WORD FROM THE AUTHOR\n\n\nBecause he is the most conspicuous Christian leader in America today;\nbecause he has done an entirely unique and far-reaching work of\nevangelism; and because his words have a message for all men, I have\nwritten, at the request of the publishers, this narrative concerning\nRev. William A. Sunday, D.D.\n\nThe final appraisal of the man and his ministry cannot, of course, be\nmade while he is alive. \"Never judge unfinished work.\" This book has\nendeavored to deal candidly, though sympathetically, with its subject.\nMr. Sunday has not seen either the manuscript or proofs. He has,\nhowever, authorized the use of the messages which he is accustomed to\ndeliver in his meetings, and which comprise more than half the contents\nof the volume.\n\nThe author's hope is that those of us who are just plain \"folks\"\nwill find the book interesting and helpful. He has no doubt that\nprofessional Christian workers will get many suggestions from the story\nof Mr. Sunday's methods.\n\nI would acknowledge the assistance of Miss Helen Cramp and the Rev.\nErnest Bawden in collating and preparing for publication Mr. Sunday's\nutterances.\n\n  WILLIAM T. ELLIS.\n\n  SWARTHMORE, PA.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                          PAGE\n\n Preface                                                     5\n\n Contents                                                    7\n\n CHAPTER I\n\n One of God's Tools\n\n God's Man Sent in God's Time--Sunday's Converts--Religion\n and the Common People--A Great City Shaken by the\n Gospel--Popular Interest in Vital Religion--Sunday\n a Distinctively American Type                              15\n\n CHAPTER II\n\n Up from the Soil\n\n Sunday's Sympathy with Every-day Folk--Early Life--The\n Soldiers' Orphanage--The Old Farm--Earning a Living--The\n School of Experience--First Baseball Ventures              22\n\n CHAPTER III\n\n A Base-Ball \"Star\"\n\n Fame as a Baseball Player--Eagerness to \"Take a\n Chance\"--Record Run on the Day Following his\n Conversion--The Parting of the Ways                        33\n\n CHAPTER IV\n\n A Curbstone Recruit\n\n Mrs. Clark and the Pacific Garden Mission--Sunday's Own\n Story of his Conversion--Winning the Game of Life          39\n\n CHAPTER V\n\n Playing the New Game\n\n The Individuality of the Man--His Marriage--Mrs. Sunday's\n Influence--Work in the Y. M. C. A.--A Father\n Disowned--Redeeming a Son--The Gambler--A Living\n Testimony--Professional Evangelistic Work                  45\n\n CHAPTER VI\n\n A Shut Door--and an Open One\n\n Sunday Thrown Upon His Own Resources by Dr. Chapman's\n Return to Philadelphia--Call to Garner, Iowa--\"This\n is the Lord's Doings\"                                      57\n\n CHAPTER VII\n\n Campaigning for Christ\n\n Splendid Organization of a Sunday Campaign--Church\n Co-operation--The Power of Christian Publicity--District\n Prayer Meetings--Sunday's Army of Workers--The Sunday\n Tabernacle--The Evangelist's Own Compensation--Personnel\n of the Sunday Party                                        61\n\n CHAPTER VIII\n\n \"Speech--Seasoned with Salt\"\n\n Vivid Language of the Common People--\"Rubbing the Fur\n the Wrong Way\"--\"Delivering the Goods\"--Shakings\n from the Sunday Salt-cellar                                69\n\n CHAPTER IX\n\n Battling with Booze\n\n An Effective Foe of the Liquor Business--\"Dry\" Victories\n Following Sunday Campaigns--\"De Brewer's Big\n Hosses\"--The Famous \"Booze\" Sermon--Interest in\n Manhood--Does the Saloon Help Business?--The Parent of\n Crimes--The Economic Side--Tragedies Born of\n Drink--More Economics--The American Mongoose--The Saloon\n a Coward--God's Worst Enemy--What Will a Dollar Buy?--The\n Gin Mill--A Chance for Manhood--Personal Liberty--The\n Moderate Drinker--What Booze Does to the System            80\n\n CHAPTER X\n\n \"Give Attendance to Reading\"\n\n Sunday's Reverence for \"Book Learning\"--No Claim to\n Originality--Some Sources of His Sermons--God's\n Token of Love--The Sinking Ship--\"What If It Had\n Been My Boy?\"--A Dream of Heaven--The Battle\n with Death--\"Christ or Nothing\"--Calvary--The\n World for God--A Word Picture--The Faithful Pilot         121\n\n CHAPTER XI\n\n Acrobatic Preaching\n\n Platform Gymnastics--The Athlete in the Preacher--Sunday's\n Sense of Humor Stronger than His Sense of\n Pathos--His Voice and Manner--Personal Side of\n Sunday                                                    138\n\n CHAPTER XII\n\n \"The Old-Time Religion\"\n\n Sunday's Power of Positive Conviction--His Ideas of\n Theology--The Need of Old-time Revival--The Gospel\n According to Sunday--Salvation a Personal Matter--\"And\n He Arose and Followed Him\"--At the Cross-roads--\"He\n Died for Me\"                                              146\n\n CHAPTER XIII\n\n \"Hitting the Sawdust Trail\"\n\n Origin of the Phrase, \"The Sawdust Trail\"--Impressive\n Scenes as Converts by the Hundred Stream Forward--Vital\n Religion--Mr. Sunday's Hand--All Sorts and Conditions\n of People                                                 158\n\n CHAPTER XIV\n\n The Service of Society\n\n Social and Ethical Results of Sunday's Preaching--The\n Potent Force of the Gospel--Religion in Every-day\n Life--Testimony of Rev. Joseph H. Odell, D.D.--Testimony\n of Rev. Maitland Alexander, D.D.--The \"Garage Bible\n Class\"--Making Religion a Subject of Ordinary\n Conversation--Lasting Results--A Life Story               167\n\n CHAPTER XV\n\n Giving the Devil His Due\n\n Sunday's Sense of the Reality of the Devil--Excoriation\n of the Devil--\"Devil\" Passages from Sermons               182\n\n\n CHAPTER XVI\n\n Critics and Criticism\n\n Storm of Criticism a Tribute--Preaching \"Christ\n Crucified\"--Recognition from Secretary Bryan--Pilgrimage\n of Philadelphia Clergymen--Heaven's Messenger--Plain\n Speech from Sunday Himself                                188\n\n\n CHAPTER XVII\n\n A Clean Man on Social Sins\n\n Clean-mindedness of the Man--A Plain Talk to Men--Christian\n Character--Common Sense--No Excuse for  Swearing--Family\n Skeletons--Nursing Bad Habits--The Leprosy of Sin--\"But\n the Lord Looketh on the Heart\"--The Joy of Religion--A\n Plain Talk to Women--Hospitality--Maternity Out of\n Fashion--The Girl Who Flirts--The Task of Womanhood       202\n\n CHAPTER XVIII\n\n \"Help Those Women\"\n\n Sunday's Honor of Womanhood--The Sermon on \"Mother\"--A\n Mother's Watchfulness--A Mother's Bravery--Good Mothers\n Needed--God's Hall of Fame--A Mother's Song--A Mother's\n Love--A Mother's Responsibility--Mothers of Great Men     231\n\n CHAPTER XIX\n\n Standing on the Rock\n\n The Old-Fashioned Loyalty of the Evangelist to the\n Bible--Some of His Utterances on the Bible                249\n\n CHAPTER XX\n\n Making a Joyful Noise\n\n No Gloom in a Sunday Revival--The Value of a Laugh--The\n Value of Music--The Tabernacle Music--The Campaign\n Choirs--A Revival of Song                                 261\n\n CHAPTER XXI\n\n The Prophet and His Own Time\n\n The Evangelist's Arraignment of the Sins of Today--His\n Treatment of the Church and Society                       267\n\n CHAPTER XXII\n\n Those Billy Sunday Prayers\n\n Unconventionality of the Prayers--Specimen Prayers--\"Teach\n Us to Pray\"--Learning of Christ--Pride Hinders\n Prayer--Praying in Secret--Praying in Humility--Men\n of Prayer                                                 271\n\n CHAPTER XXIII\n\n The Revival on Trial\n\n The Sea of Faces--Laboratory Tests--\"The Need of\n Revivals\"--What a Revival Does--Revival Demands\n Sacrifice--Persecution a Godsend                          288\n\n CHAPTER XXIV\n\n An Army With Banners\n\n Unique Plans for Reaching the Masses of the\n People--Visiting Delegations--Parade at Close of\n Campaign--\"Spiritual Power\"--Derelicts in the\n Church--The Meaning of Power--Church Needs Great\n Awakening--Lost Power                                     299\n\n CHAPTER XXV\n\n A Life Enlistment\n\n Some Notable Instances of the Lasting Results of Sunday\n Revivals--\"Gospel Teams\"--Sermon on \"Sharp-Shooters\"--The\n Value of Personal Work--\"My Father's\n Business\"--Feeding the Spiritual Life--The Dignity of\n Personal Work--Five Classes of People                     311\n\n CHAPTER XXVI\n\n \"A Good Soldier of Jesus Christ\"\n\n Astounding Number of Conversions--Statistics of Campaigns\n in Various Cities--Sunday's \"Consecration\"\n Sermon--God's Mercies--The Living Sacrifice--A Glass\n of Champagne--Denying One's Self--Thinking for\n God--What God Asks                                        326\n\n CHAPTER XXVII\n\n A Wonderful Day at a Great University\n\n Visit to University of Pennsylvania--\"What Shall I Do\n With Jesus?\"--\"Real Manhood\"--\"Hot-cakes Off the\n Griddle\"--Comment of _Old Penn_--Opinions of\n Students--Comment of Religious Press                      343\n\n CHAPTER XXVIII\n\n The Christian's Daily Helper\n\n \"The Holy Spirit\"--No Universal Salvation--Happiest\n Nation on Earth--Ambassadors of God--Holy Spirit\n a Person--The Last Dispensation--\"Little Things\"--The\n Fame of a Christian                                       359\n\n CHAPTER XXIX\n\n A Victorious Sermon\n\n Conquests by the Sermon on \"The Unpardonable Sin\"--What\n It Is--Resisting the Truth--\"Too Late\"--Representative\n of the Trinity--Death-bed Confessions--A Forgiving\n God--Power of Revivals                                    370\n\n CHAPTER XXX\n\n Eternity! Eternity!\n\n \"What Shall the End Be?\"--Men Believe in God--At the\n Cross--The Judgment of God--Glad Tidings to All--The\n Atonement of Christ--God's Word--Eternity and\n Space--God's Infinite Love--Preparing for Eternity--A\n Leap in the Dark--\"The End Thereof\"                       383\n\n CHAPTER XXXI\n\n Our Long Home\n\n \"Heaven\"--\"I, Too, Must Die\"--No Substitute for\n Religion--Morality Not Enough--The Way of\n Salvation--Rewards of Merit--A Place of Noble\n People--\"A Place for You\"--The Missing                   404\n\n CHAPTER XXXII\n\n Glorying in the Cross\n\n \"Atonement\"--Suffering for the Guilty--Jesus' Atoning\n Blood--No Argument Against Sin--\"There is Sin\"--\"How\n Long, O God?\"                                             424\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nOne of God's Tools\n\nI want to be a giant for God.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nHeaven often plays jokes on earth's worldly-wise. After the consensus\nof experience and sagacity has settled upon a certain course and\ntype, lo, all the profundity of the sages is blown away as a speck of\ndust and we have, say, a shockingly unconventional John the Baptist,\nwho does not follow the prescribed rules in dress, training, methods\nor message. John the Baptist was God's laugh at the rabbis and the\nPharisees.\n\nIn an over-ecclesiastical age, when churchly authority had reached the\nlimit, a poor monk, child of a miner's hut, without influence or favor,\nwas called to break the power of the popes, and to make empires and\nreshape history, flinging his shadow far down the centuries. Martin\nLuther was God's laugh at ecclesiasticism.\n\nWhile the brains and aristocracy and professional statesmanship of\nAmerica struggled in vain with the nation's greatest crisis, God\nreached down close to the soil of the raw and ignored Middle West, and\npicked up a gaunt and untutored specimen of the common people--a man\nwho reeked of the earth until the earth closed over him--and so saved\nthe Union and freed a race, through ungainly Abraham Lincoln. Thus\nagain Heaven laughed at exalted procedure and conventionality.\n\nIn our own day, with its blatant worldly wisdom, with its flaunting\nprosperity, with its fashionable churchliness, with its flood of\n\"advanced\" theology overwhelming the pulpit, God needed a prophet,\nto call his people back to simple faith and righteousness. A nation\nimperiled by luxury, greed, love of pleasure and unbelief cried aloud\nfor a deliverer. Surely this crisis required a great man, learned\nin all the ways of the world, equipped with the best preparation of\nAmerican and foreign universities and theological seminaries, a man\ntrained in ecclesiastical leadership, and approved and honored by the\ncourts of the Church? So worldly wisdom decreed. But God laughed--and\nproduced, to the scandal of the correct and conventional, Billy Sunday,\na common man from the common people, who, like Lincoln, so wears the\nsigns and savor of the soil that fastidious folk, to whom sweat is\nvulgar and to whom calloused hands are \"bad form,\" quite lose their\nsuavity and poise in calling him \"unrefined.\"\n\nThat he is God's tool is the first and last word about Billy Sunday.\nHe is a \"phenomenon\" only as God is forever doing phenomenal things,\nand upsetting men's best-laid plans. He is simply a tool of God. For a\nspecial work he is the special instrument. God called, and he answered.\nAll the many owlish attempts to \"explain\" Billy Sunday on psychological\nand sociological grounds fall flat when they ignore the fact that he is\nmerely a handy man for the Lord's present use.\n\nGod is still, as ever, confounding all human wisdom by snatching the\ncondemned baby of a Hebrew slave out of Egypt's river to become a\nnation's deliverer; by calling a shepherd boy from his sheep to be\nIsrael's greatest warrior and king; and by sending his only-begotten\nSon to earth by way of a manger, and training him in a workingman's\nhome and a village carpenter shop. \"My ways are not your ways,\" is a\nremark of God, which he seems fond of repeating and illustrating.\n\nThere is no other explanation of Billy Sunday needed, or possible, than\nthat he is God's man sent in God's time. And if God chooses the weak\nand foolish things of earth to confound the mighty, is not that but\nanother one of his inscrutable ways of showing that he is God?\n\nWhy are we so confident that Billy Sunday is the Lord's own man, when\nso many learned critics have declared the contrary? Simply because he\nhas led more persons to make a public confession of discipleship to\nJesus Christ than any other man for a century past. Making Christians\nis, from all angles, the greatest work in the world. Approximately two\nhundred and fifty thousand persons, in the past twenty-five years, have\ntaken Sunday's hand, in token that henceforth their lives belong to the\nSaviour.\n\nThat amazing statement is too big to be grasped at once. It requires\nthinking over. The huge total of dry figures needs to be broken up\ninto its component parts of living human beings. Tens of thousands of\nthose men were husbands--hundreds of whom had been separated from their\nwives and children by sin. Now, in reunited homes, whole families bless\nthe memory of the man of God who gave them back husbands and fathers.\nOther tens of thousands were sons, over many of whom parents had long\nprayed and agonized. It would be hard to convince these mothers, whose\nsons have been given back to clean living and to Christian service,\nthat there is anything seriously wrong with Mr. Sunday's language,\nmethods or theology. Business men who find that a Sunday revival means\nthe paying up of the bad bills of old customers are ready to approve\non this evidence a man whose work restores integrity in commercial\nrelations.\n\nEvery conceivable type of humanity is included in that total of a\nquarter of a million of Sunday converts. The college professor, the\nprosperous business man, the eminent politician, the farmer, the\nlawyer, the editor, the doctor, the author, the athlete, the \"man about\ntown,\" the criminal, the drunkard, the society woman, the college\nstudent, the workingman, the school boy and girl: the whole gamut of\nlife is covered by the stream of humanity that has \"hit the sawdust\ntrail\"--a phrase which has chilled the marrow of every theological\nseminary in the land. But the trail leads home to the Father's House.\n\nOne must reach into the dictionary for big, strong words in\ncharacterizing the uniqueness of Billy Sunday's work. So I say that\nanother aspect of his success is fairly astounding. He, above all\nothers in our time, has broken through the thick wall of indifference\nwhich separates the Church from the world. Church folk commonly avoid\nthe subject of this great fixed gulf. We do not like to face the fact\nthat the mass of mankind does not bother its head about conventional\nreligious matters. Even the majority of church-goers are blankly\nuninterested in the general affairs of religion. Sad to tell, our\nbishops and board secretaries and distinguished preachers are really\nonly local celebrities. Their names mean nothing in newspaper offices\nor to newspaper readers: there are not six clergymen in the United\nStates with a really national reputation. Each in his own circle, of\nlocality or denomination, may be Somebody with a big S. But the world\ngoes on unheeding. Great ecclesiastical movements and meetings are\nentirely unrecorded by the secular press. The Church's problem of\nproblems is how to smash, or even to crack, the partition which shuts\noff the world from the Church.\n\nBilly Sunday has done that. He has set all sorts and conditions of\nmen to talking about religion. Go to the lowest dive in New York's\n\"Tenderloin\" or in San Francisco's \"Barbary Coast,\" and mention the\nname \"Billy Sunday,\" and everybody will recognize it, and be ready\nto discuss the man and his message. Stand before a session of the\nAmerican Philosophical Society and pronounce the words \"Billy Sunday\"\nand every one of the learned savants present will be able to talk about\nthe man, even though few of them know who won last season's baseball\nchampionship or who is the world's champion prize-fighter.\n\nThis is a feat of first magnitude. All levels of society have been made\naware of Billy Sunday and his gospel. When the evangelist went to New\nYork for an evening address, early in the year 1914, the throngs were\nso great that the police were overwhelmed by the surging thousands.\nEven Mr. Sunday himself could not obtain admittance to the meeting for\nmore than half an hour. Andrew Carnegie could not get into the hall\nthat bears his name. Probably a greater number of persons tried to\nhear this evangelist that night than were gathered in all the churches\nof greater New York combined on the preceding Sunday night. To turn\nthousands of persons away from his meetings is a common experience of\nMr. Sunday. More than ten thousand, mostly men, tried in vain to get\ninto the overcrowded Scranton tabernacle at a single session. Every\nthoughtful man or woman must be interested in the man who thus can make\nreligion interesting to the common people.\n\nThe despair of the present-day Church is the modern urban center. Our\ngeneration had not seen a great city shaken by the gospel until Billy\nSunday went to Pittsburgh. That he did it is the unanimous report of\npress and preachers and business men. Literally that whole city was\nstirred to its most sluggish depths by the Sunday campaign. No baseball\nseries or political campaign ever moved the community so deeply.\nEverywhere one went the talk was of Billy Sunday and his meetings. From\nthe bell boys in the hotels to the millionaires in the Duquesne Club,\nfrom the workmen in the mills and the girls in the stores, to the women\nin exclusive gatherings, Sunday was the staple of conversation.\n\nDay by day, all the newspapers in the city gave whole pages to the\nSunday meetings. The sermons were reported entire. No other topic\never had received such full attention for so long a time at the hands\nof the press as the Sunday campaign. These issues of the papers were\nsubscribed for by persons in all parts of the land. Men and women\nwere converted who never heard the sound of the evangelist's voice.\nThis series of Pittsburgh meetings, more than anything else in his\nexperience, impressed the power of Sunday upon the metropolitan centers\nof the nation at large; the country folk had long before learned of him.\n\nAny tabulation of Mr. Sunday's influence must give a high place to\nthe fact that he has made good press \"copy\": he has put religion on\nthe front pages of the dailies; and has made it a present issue with\nthe millions. Under modern conditions, no man can hope to evangelize\nAmerica who has not also access to the columns of the newspapers.\nWithin the memory of living men, no other man or agency has brought\nreligion so powerfully and consecutively into the press as William A.\nSunday, whom some of his scholarly critics have called \"illiterate.\"\n\nAll of which proves the popular interest in vital, contemporaneous\nreligion. Men's ears are dulled by the \"shop talk\" of the pulpit. They\nare weary of the worn platitudes of professional piety. Nobody cares\nfor the language of Canaan, in which many ministers, with reverence for\nthe dead past, have tried to enswathe the living truths of the Gospel,\nas if they were mummies. In the colloquial tongue of the common people,\nJesus first proclaimed his gospel, and \"the common people heard him\ngladly,\" although many of the learned and aristocratic ecclesiastics of\nhis day were scandalized by his free and popular way of putting things,\nby his \"common\" stories, and by his disregard for the precedents of the\nschools. Whatever else may be said about Billy Sunday's much-discussed\nforms of speech, this point is clear, and denied by nobody: he makes\nhimself and his message clearly understood by all classes of people.\nHowever much one may disagree with him, nobody fails to catch his\nmeaning. He harnesses the common words of the street up to the chariot\nof divine truth. Every-day folk, the uncritical, unscholarly crowd of\nus, find no fault with the fact that Sunday uses the same sort of terms\nthat we do. In fresh, vigorous, gripping style, he makes his message\nunmistakable.\n\nCollege students like him as much as do the farmers and mechanics. In\na single day's work at the University of Pennsylvania, when thousands\nof students crowded his meetings, and gave reverent, absorbed attention\nto his message, several hundred of them openly dedicated their lives\nto Christ, and in token thereof publicly grasped his hand. Dr. John\nR. Mott, the world's greatest student leader, once said to me, in\ncommenting upon Sunday: \"You cannot fool a great body of students.\nThey get a man's measure. If he is genuine, they know it, and if he is\nnot, they quickly find it out. Their devotion to Mr. Sunday is very\nsignificant.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"GOD LIKES A LITTLE HUMOR, AS EVIDENCED BY THE FACT THAT\nHE MADE THE MONKEY, THE PARROT--AND SOME OF YOU PEOPLE.\"]\n\nThis man, who meets life on all levels, and proves that the gospel\nmessage is for no one particular class, is a distinctively American\ntype. Somebody has said that the circus is the most democratic of\nAmerican institutions: it brings all sorts and conditions of people\ntogether on a common plane and for a common purpose. The Sunday\nevangelistic meetings are more democratic than a circus. They are\na singular exhibit of American life--perhaps the most distinctive\ngathering to be found in our land today. His appeal is to the great\nmass of the people. The housekeepers who seldom venture away from their\nhomes, the mechanics who do not go to church, the \"men about town\"\nwho profess a cynical disdain for religion, the \"down and outs,\" the\nmillionaires, the society women, the business and professional men, the\nyoung fellows who feel \"too big\" to go to Sunday school--all these, and\nscores of other types, may be found night after night in the barn-like\nwooden tabernacles which are always erected for the Sunday meetings.\nOur common American life seems to meet and merge in this baseball\nevangelist, who once erected tents for another evangelist, and now has\nto have special auditoriums built to hold his own crowds; and who has\nrisen from a log cabin to a place of national power and honor. Nowhere\nelse but in America could one find such an unconventional figure as\nBilly Sunday.\n\nSucceeding chapters will tell in some detail the story of the man and\nhis work; and in most of them the man will speak his own messages. But\nfor explanation of his power and his work it can only be said, as of\nold, \"There was a man sent from God, whose name was\"--Billy Sunday.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nUp from the Soil\n\n If you want to drive the devil out of the world, hit him with a cradle\n instead of a crutch.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nSunday must be accepted as a man of the American type before he can\nbe understood. He is of the average, every-day American sort. He is\none of the \"folks.\" He has more points of resemblance to the common\npeople than he has of difference from them. His mind is their mind. The\nkeenness of the average American is his in an increased degree. He has\nthe saving sense of humor which has marked this western people. The\nextravagances and recklessnesses of his speech would be incredible to a\nBritisher; but we Americans understand them. They are of a piece with\nour minds.\n\nLike the type, Sunday is not over-fastidious. He is not made of a\nspecial porcelain clay, but of the same red soil as the rest of us. He\nknows the barn-yards of the farm better than the drawing-rooms of the\nrich. The normal, every-day Americanism of this son of the Middle West,\nwhom the nation knows as \"Billy Sunday,\" is to be insisted upon if he\nis to be understood.\n\nEarly apprenticed to hardship and labor, he has a sympathy with the\nlife of the toiling people which mere imagination cannot give. His\nknowledge of the American crowd is sure and complete because he is\none of them. He understands the life of every-day folk because that\nhas always been his life. While he has obvious natural ability,\nsharpened on the grindstone of varied experience, his perceptions and\nhis viewpoints are altogether those of the normal American. As he has\nseen something of life on many levels, and knows city ways as well\nas country usages, he has never lost his bearings as to what sort of\npeople make up the bulk of this country. To them his sermons are\naddressed. Because he strikes this medium level of common conduct and\nthought, it is easy for those in all the ranges of American life to\ncomprehend him.\n\n\"Horse-sense,\" that fundamental American virtue, is Sunday's to an\neminent degree. A modern American philosopher defines this quality\nof mind as \"an instinctive something that tells us when the clock\nstrikes twelve.\" Because he is \"rich in saving common sense,\" Sunday\nunderstands the people and trusts them to understand him. His most\nearnest defenders from the beginning of his public life have been the\nrank and file of the common people. His critics have come from the\nextreme edges of society--the scholar, or the man whose business is\nhurt by righteousness.\n\nThe life of William A. Sunday covers the period of American history\nsince the Civil War. He never saw his father, for he was born the\nthird son of pioneer parents on November 19, 1862, four months after\nhis father had enlisted as a private in Company E, Twenty-third Iowa\nInfantry Volunteers.\n\nThere is nothing remarkable to record as to the family. They were one\nwith the type of the middle-western Americans who wrested that empire\nfrom the wilderness, and counted poverty honorable. In those mutually\nhelpful, splendidly independent days, Democracy came to its flower, and\nthe American type was born.\n\nReal patriotism is always purchased at a high price; none pay more\ndearly for war-time loyalty than the women who send their husbands\nand sons to the front. Mrs. Sunday bade her husband answer the call\nof his country as only a brave woman could do, and sent him forth to\nthe service and sacrifices which soon ended in an unmarked grave. Four\nmonths after she had bidden farewell to her husband, she bade welcome\nto his son. To this third child she gave the name of her absent soldier\nhusband.\n\nThe mother's dreams of the returning soldier's delight in his namesake\nchild were soon shattered by the tidings that Private William Sunday\nhad died of disease contracted in service, at Patterson, Missouri, on\nDecember 22, 1862, a little more than a month after the birth of the\nboy who was to lift his name out of the obscurity of the hosts of those\nwho gave \"the last full measure of devotion\" to their nation.\n\nThen the mother was called upon to take up that heaviest of all burdens\nof patriotism--the rearing of an orphan family in a home of dire\npoverty. The three children in the Sunday home out at Ames, Iowa--Roy,\nEdward and William--were unwitting participants in another aspect of\nwar, the lot of soldiers' orphans. For years, Mrs. Sunday, who at this\nwriting is still living and rejoicing in the successes of her son,\nwas able to keep her little family together under the roof of the\ntwo-roomed log cabin which they called home. In those early days their\ngrandfather, Squire Corey, was of unmeasured help in providing for and\ntraining the three orphan boys.\n\nExperience is a school teacher who carries a rod, as Sunday could\nwell testify. He learned life's fundamental lessons in the school of\npoverty and toil. To the part which his mother played in shaping his\nlife and ideals he has borne eloquent tribute on many platforms. When\nthe youngest son was twelve years old, he and his older brother were\nsent off to the Soldiers' Orphanage at Glenwood, Iowa. Later they\nwere transferred to the Davenport Orphanage, which they left in June\nof 1876, making two years spent in the orphanages. Concerning this\nexperience Sunday himself speaks:\n\n\"I was bred and born (not in old Kentucky, although my grandfather\nwas a Kentuckian), but in old Iowa. I am a rube of the rubes. I am a\nhayseed of the hayseeds, and the malodors of the barnyard are on me\nyet, and it beats Pinaud and Colgate, too. I have greased my hair with\ngoose grease and blacked my boots with stove blacking. I have wiped my\nold proboscis with a gunny-sack towel; I have drunk coffee out of my\nsaucer, and I have eaten with my knife; I have said 'done it,' when I\nshould have said 'did it,' and I 'have saw' when I should 'have seen,'\nand I expect to go to heaven just the same. I have crept and crawled\nout from the university of poverty and hard knocks, and have taken\npostgraduate courses.\n\n\"My father went to the war four months before I was born, in Company E,\nTwenty-third Iowa. I have butted and fought and struggled since I was\nsix years old. That's one reason why I wear that little red, white and\nblue button. I know all about the dark and seamy side of life, and if\never a man fought hard, I have fought hard for everything I have ever\ngained.\n\n\"The wolf scratched at the cabin door and finally mother said: 'Boys, I\nam going to send you to the Soldiers' Orphans' Home.' At Ames, Iowa, we\nhad to wait for the train, and we went to a little hotel, and they came\nabout one o'clock and said: 'Get ready for the train.'\n\n\"I looked into mother's face. Her eyes were red, her hair was\ndisheveled. I said: 'What's the matter, mother?' All the time Ed and I\nslept mother had been praying. We went to the train; she put one arm\nabout me and the other about Ed and sobbed as if her heart would break.\nPeople walked by and looked at us, but they didn't say a word.\n\n\"Why? They didn't know, and if they had they wouldn't have cared.\nMother knew; she knew that for years she wouldn't see her boys. We\ngot into the train and said, 'Good-bye, mother,' as the train pulled\nout. We reached Council Bluffs. It was cold and we turned up our coats\nand shivered. We saw the hotel and went up and asked the woman for\nsomething to eat. She said: 'What's your name?'\n\n\"'My name is William Sunday, and this is my brother Ed.'\n\n\"'Where are you going?'\n\n\"'Going to the Soldiers' Orphans' Home at Glenwood.'\n\n\"She wiped her tears and said: 'My husband was a soldier and he never\ncame back. He wouldn't turn any one away and I wouldn't turn you boys\naway.' She drew her arms about us and said: 'Come on in.' She gave us\nour breakfast and our dinner, too. There wasn't any train going out on\nthe 'Q' until afternoon. We saw a freight train standing there, so we\nclimbed into the caboose.\n\n[Illustration: \"WHERE'S YOUR MONEY OR TICKET?\"]\n\n\"The conductor came along and said: 'Where's your money or ticket?'\n\n\"'Ain't got any.'\n\n\"'I'll have to put you off.'\n\n\"We commenced to cry. My brother handed him a letter of introduction\nto the superintendent of the orphans' home. The conductor read it, and\nhanded it back as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Then he said: 'Just\nsit still, boys. It won't cost a cent to ride on my train.'\n\n\"It's only twenty miles from Council Bluffs to Glenwood, and as we\nrounded the curve the conductor said: 'There it is on the hill.'\n\n\"I want to say to you that one of the brightest pictures that hangs\nupon the walls of my memory is the recollection of the days when as a\nlittle boy, out in the log cabin on the frontier of Iowa, I knelt by\nmother's side.\n\n\"I went back to the old farm some years ago. The scenes had changed\nabout the place. Faces I had known and loved had long since turned to\ndust. Fingers that used to turn the pages of the Bible were obliterated\nand the old trees beneath which we boys used to play and swing had\nbeen felled by the woodman's axe. I stood and thought. The man became a\nchild again and the long weary nights of sin and of hardships became as\nthough they never had been.\n\n\"Once more with my gun on my shoulder and my favorite dog trailing at\nmy heels I walked through the pathless wood and sat on the old familiar\nlogs and stumps, and as I sat and listened to the wild, weird harmonies\nof nature, a vision of the past opened. The squirrel from the limb of\nthe tree barked defiantly and I threw myself into an interrogation\npoint, and when the gun cracked, the squirrel fell at my feet. I\ngrabbed him and ran home to throw him down and receive compliments for\nmy skill as a marksman. And I saw the tapestry of the evening fall.\nI heard the lowing herds and saw them wind slowly o'er the lea and I\nlistened to the tinkling bells that lulled the distant fowl. Once more\nI heard the shouts of childish glee. Once more I climbed the haystack\nfor the hen's eggs. Once more we crossed the threshold and sat at our\nfrugal meal. Once more mother drew the trundle bed out from under the\nlarger one, and we boys, kneeling down, shut our eyes and clasping our\nlittle hands, said: 'Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord, my\nsoul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray thee, Lord, my soul\nto take. And this I ask for Jesus' sake, Amen.'\n\n    \"'Backward, turn backward, O time in thy flight,\n    Make me a child again, just for tonight,\n    Mother, come back from that echoless shore,\n    Take me again to your heart as of yore.\n    Into the old cradle I'm longing to creep,\n    Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.'\n\n\"I stood beneath the old oak tree and it seemed to carry on a\nconversation with me. It seemed to say:\n\n\"'Hello Bill. Is that you?'\n\n\"'Yes, it's I, old tree.'\n\n\"'Well, you've got a bald spot on the top of your head.\n\n\"'Yes, I know, old tree.'\n\n\"'Won't you climb up and sit on my limbs as you used to?'\n\n\"'No, I haven't got time now. I'd like to, though, awfully well.'\n\n\"'Don't go, Bill. Don't you remember the old swing you made?'\n\n\"'Yes, I remember; but I've got to go.'\n\n\"'Say Bill, don't you remember when you tried to play George Washington\nand the cherry tree and almost cut me down? That's the scar you made,\nbut it's almost covered over now.'\n\n\"'Yes, I remember all, but I haven't time to stay.'\n\n\"'Are you comin' back, Bill?'\n\n\"'I don't know, but I'll never forget you.'\n\n\"Then the old apple tree seemed to call me and I said: 'I haven't time\nto wait, old apple tree.'\n\n    \"'I want to go back to the orchard,\n      The orchard that used to be mine,\n    The apples are reddening and filling\n      The air with their wine.\n    I want to run on through the pasture\n      And let down the dusty old bars,\n    I want to find you there still waiting,\n      Your eyes like the twin stars.\n    Oh, nights, you are weary and dreary,\n      And days, there is something you lack;\n    To the farm in the valley,\n      I want to go back.'\n\n\"I tell it to you with shame, I stretched the elastic bands of my\nmother's love until I thought they would break. I went far into the\ndark and the wrong until I ceased to hear her prayers or her pleadings.\nI forgot her face, and I went so far that it seemed to me that one\nmore step and the elastic bands of her love would break and I would\nbe lost. But, thank God, friends, I never took that last step. Little\nby little I yielded to the tender memories and recollections of my\nmother; little by little I was drawn away from the yawning abyss, and\ntwenty-seven years ago, one dark and stormy night in Chicago, I groped\nmy way out of darkness into the arms of Jesus Christ and I fell on my\nknees and cried 'God be merciful to me a sinner!'\"\n\n[Illustration: BILLY SUNDAY AND \"POP\" ANSON, FORMER CAPTAIN OF THE\nFAMOUS CHICAGO \"WHITE SOX\" BASEBALL TEAM, ON THE GOLF LINKS.]\n\nOf formal education the boy Sunday had but little. He went to school\nintermittently, like most of his playmates, but he did get into the\nhigh school, although he was never graduated. Early in life he began\nto work for his living, even before he went off to the Soldiers'\nOrphanage. Concerning these periods of early toil he himself has spoken\nas follows:\n\n\"When I was about fourteen years old, I made application for the\nposition of janitor in a school.\n\n\"I used to get up at two o'clock, and there were fourteen stoves and\ncoal had to be carried for all them. I had to keep the fire up and keep\nup my studies and sweep the floors. I got twenty-five dollars a month\nsalary. Well, one day I got a check for my salary and I went right down\nto the bank to get it cashed. Right in front of me was another fellow\nwith a check to be cashed, and he shoved his in, and I came along and\nshoved my check in, and he handed me out forty dollars. My check called\nfor twenty-five dollars. I called on a friend of mine who was a lawyer\nin Kansas City and told him. I said: 'Frank, what do you think, Jay\nKing handed me forty dollars and my check only called for twenty-five\ndollars.' He said, 'Bill, if I had your luck, I would buy a lottery\nticket.' But I said, 'The fifteen dollars is not mine.' He said, 'Don't\nbe a chump. If you were shy ten dollars and you went back you would not\nget it, and if they hand out fifteen dollars, don't be a fool, keep it.'\n\n\"Well, he had some drag with me and influenced me. I was fool enough\nto keep it, and I took it and bought a suit of clothes. I can see\nthat suit now; it was a kind of brown, with a little green in it and\nI thought I was the goods, I want to tell you, when I got those store\nclothes on. That was the first suit of store clothes I had ever had,\nand I bought that suit and I had twenty-five dollars left after I did\nit.\n\n\"Years afterwards I said, 'I ought to be a Christian,' and I got on my\nknees to pray, and the Lord seemed to touch me on the back and say,\n'Bill, you owe that Farmers' Bank fifteen dollars with interest,' and\nI said, 'Lord, the bank don't know that I got that fifteen dollars,'\nand the Lord said 'I know it'; so I struggled along for years, probably\nlike some of you, trying to be decent and honest and right some wrong\nthat was in my life, and every time I got down to pray the Lord would\nsay, 'Fifteen dollars with interest, Nevada County, Iowa; fifteen\ndollars, Bill.' So years afterwards I sent that money back, enclosed\na check, wrote a letter and acknowledged it, and I have the peace of\nGod from that day to this, and I have never swindled anyone out of a\ndollar.\"\n\nThere are other kinds of education besides those which award students a\nsheepskin at the end of a stated term. Sunday has no sheepskin--neither\nhas he the sheep quality which marks the machine-made product of any\nform of training. His school has been a diversity of work, where he\ncame face to face with the actualities of life. He early had to shift\nfor himself. He learned the priceless lesson of how to work, regardless\nof what the particular task might be, whether it was scrubbing floors\n(and he was an expert scrubber of floors!), or preaching a sermon\nto twenty thousand persons. He had a long hard drill in working\nunder authority: that is why he is able to exercise authority like\na major-general. Because personally he has experienced, with all of\nthe sensitiveness of an American small boy, the bitter injustice of\nover-work and under-pay under an oppressive task-master, he is a voice\nfor the toilers of the world. In this same diversified school of\nindustry he learned the lesson of thoroughness which is now echoed by\nevery spike in his tabernacle and every gesture in his sermons. Such a\none as he could not have come from a conventional educational course.\nIt needed this hard school to make such a hardy man.\n\nIt was while a youth in Marshalltown, Iowa, playing baseball on the\nlots, that Sunday came to his own. Captain A. C. Anson, the famous\nleader of the Chicago \"White Sox,\" chanced to see the youth of twenty,\nwhose phenomenal base-running had made him a local celebrity. It is no\nnew experience for Sunday to be a center of public interest. He has\nknown this since boyhood. The local baseball \"hero\" is as big a figure\nin the eyes of his own particular circle as ever a great evangelist\ngets to be in the view of the world. Because his ears early became\naccustomed to the huzzahs of the crowd, Sunday's head has not been\nturned by much of the foolish adulation which has been his since he\nbecame an evangelist.\n\nA level head, a quick eye, and a body which is such a finely trained\ninstrument that it can meet all drafts upon it, is part of Sunday's\ninheritance from his life on the baseball diamond.\n\nMost successful baseball players enter the major leagues by a\nsuccession of steps. With Sunday it was quite otherwise. Because he\nfell under the personal eye of \"Pop\" Anson he was borne directly from\nthe fields of Marshalltown, Iowa, to the great park of the Chicago\nteam. That was in 1883, when Sunday was not yet twenty-one years\nof age. His mind was still formative--a quality it retains to this\nday--and his entrance into the larger field of baseball trained him to\nthink in broad terms. It widened his horizon and made him reasonably\nindifferent to the comments of the crowds.\n\nA better equipment for the work he is doing could not have been found;\nfor above all else Sunday \"plays ball.\" While others discuss methods\nand bewail conditions he keeps the game going. Such a volume of\ncriticism as no other evangelist, within the memory of living men, has\never received, has fallen harmless from his head, because he has not\nturned aside to argue with the umpire, but has \"played ball.\"\n\nThere is no call for tears or heroics over the early experiences\nof Sunday. His life was normal; no different from that of tens\nof thousands of other American boys. He himself was in no wise a\nphenomenon. He was possessed of no special abilities or inclinations.\nHe came to his preaching gift only after years of experience in\nChristian work. It is clear that a Divine Providence utilized the very\nordinariness of his life and training to make him an ambassador to the\ncommon people.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nA Base-Ball \"Star\"\n\n Don't get chesty over success.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nSometimes the preacher tells his people what a great journalist he\nmight have been, or what a successful business man, had he not entered\nthe ministry; but usually his hearers never would have suspected it if\nhe had not told them. Billy Sunday's eminence as a baseball player is\nnot a shadow cast backward from his present pre-eminence. His success\nas a preacher has gained luster from his distinction as a baseball\nplayer, while his fame as a baseball player has been kept alive by his\nwork as an evangelist.\n\nAll the world of baseball enthusiasts, a generation ago, knew Billy\nSunday, the speediest base-runner and the most daring base-stealer in\nthe whole fraternity. Wherever he goes today veteran devotees of the\nnational game recall times they saw him play; and sporting periodicals\nand sporting pages of newspapers have been filled with reminiscences\nfrom baseball \"fans,\" of the triumphs of the evangelist on the diamond.\n\nA side light on the reality of his religion while engaged in\nprofessional baseball is thrown by the fact that sporting writers\nalways speak of him with pride and loyalty, and his old baseball\nassociates who still survive, go frequently to hear him preach. The\nbaseball world thinks that he reflects distinction on the game.\n\nNow baseball in Marshalltown and baseball in Chicago had not exactly\nthe same standards. The recruit had to be drilled. He struck out the\nfirst thirteen times he went to bat. He never became a superior batter,\nbut he could always throw straight and hard. At first he was inclined\nto take too many chances and his judgment was rather unsafe. One\nbaseball writer has said that \"Sunday probably caused more wide throws\nthan any other player the game has ever known, because of his specialty\nof going down to first like a streak of greased electricity. When he\nhit the ball infielders yelled 'hurry it up.' The result was that they\noften threw them away.\" He was the acknowledged champion sprinter of\nthe National League. This once led to a match race with Arlie Latham,\nwho held like honors in the American League. Sunday won by fifteen feet.\n\n[Illustration: HIS SLIDES WERE ADVENTURES BELOVED OF THE \"FANS\"]\n\nSunday was the sort of figure the bleachers liked. He was always\neager--sometimes too eager--to \"take a chance.\" What was a one-base hit\nfor another man was usually good for two bases for him. His slides and\nstolen bases were adventures beloved of the \"fans\"--the spice of the\ngame. He also was apt in retort to the comments from the bleachers, but\nalways good-natured. The crowds liked him, even as did his team mates.\n\nSunday was a man's man, and so continues to this day. His tabernacle\naudiences resemble baseball crowds in the proportion of men present,\nmore nearly than any other meetings of a religious nature that are\nregularly being held. Sunday spent five years on the old Chicago\nteam, mostly playing right or center field. He was the first man in\nthe history of baseball to circle the bases in fourteen seconds. He\ncould run a hundred yards from a standing start in ten seconds flat.\nSpeed had always been his one distinction. As a lad of thirteen, in\nthe Fourth of July games at Ames, he won a prize of three dollars in a\nfoot-race, a feat which he recalls with pleasure.\n\nSpeed is a phase of baseball that, being clear to all eyes, appeals to\nthe bleachers. So it came about that Sunday was soon a baseball \"hero,\"\nanalogous to \"Ty\" Cobb or \"Home-Run\" Baker, or Christy Mathewson of\nour own day. He himself tells the story of one famous play, on the day\nafter his conversion:\n\n\"That afternoon we played the old Detroit club. We were neck and neck\nfor the championship. That club had Thompson, Richardson, Rowe, Dunlap,\nHanlon and Bennett, and they could play ball.\n\n\"I was playing right field. Mike Kelly was catching and John G.\nClarkson was pitching. He was as fine a pitcher as ever crawled into\na uniform. There are some pitchers today, O'Toole, Bender, Wood,\nMathewson, Johnson, Marquard, but I do not believe any one of them\nstood in the class with Clarkson.\n\n\"Cigarettes put him on the bum. When he'd taken a bath the water would\nbe stained with nicotine.\n\n\"We had two men out and they had a man on second and one on third and\nBennett, their old catcher, was at bat. Charley had three balls and two\nstrikes on him. Charley couldn't hit a high ball: but he could kill\nthem when they went about his knee.\n\n\"I hollered to Clarkson and said: 'One more and we got 'em.'\n\n\"You know every pitcher puts a hole in the ground where he puts his\nfoot when he is pitching. John stuck his foot in the hole and he went\nclean to the ground. Oh, he could make 'em dance. He could throw\noverhanded, and the ball would go down and up like that. He is the only\nman on earth I have seen do that. That ball would go by so fast that\nthe batter could feel the thermometer drop two degrees as she whizzed\nby. John went clean down, and as he went to throw the ball his right\nfoot slipped and the ball went low instead of high.\n\n\"I saw Charley swing hard and heard the bat hit the ball with a\nterrific boom. Bennett had smashed the ball on the nose. I saw the\nball rise in the air and knew that it was going clear over my head.\n\n\"I could judge within ten feet of where the ball would light. I turned\nmy back to the ball and ran.\n\n\"The field was crowded with people and I yelled, 'Stand back!' and that\ncrowd opened as the Red Sea opened for the rod of Moses. I ran on, and\nas I ran I made a prayer; it wasn't theological, either, I tell you\nthat. I said, 'God, if you ever helped mortal man, help me to get that\nball, and you haven't very much time to make up your mind, either.' I\nran and jumped over the bench and stopped.\n\n\"I thought I was close enough to catch it. I looked back and saw it was\ngoing over my head and I jumped and shoved out my left hand and the\nball hit it and stuck. At the rate I was going the momentum carried\nme on and I fell under the feet of a team of horses. I jumped up with\nthe ball in my hand. Up came Tom Johnson. Tom used to be mayor of\nCleveland. He's dead now.\n\n\"'Here is $10, Bill. Buy yourself the best hat in Chicago. That catch\nwon me $1,500. Tomorrow go and buy yourself the best suit of clothes\nyou can find in Chicago.'\n\n\"An old Methodist minister said to me a few years ago, 'Why, William,\nyou didn't take the $10, did you?' I said, 'You bet your life I did.'\"\n\nAfter his five years with the Chicago baseball team, Sunday played upon\nthe Pittsburgh and the Philadelphia teams, his prestige so growing with\nthe years that after he had been eight years in baseball, he declined a\ncontract at five hundred dollars a month, in order to enter Christian\nwork.\n\nFor most of his baseball career Sunday was an out-and-out Christian.\nHe had been converted in 1887, after four years of membership on the\nChicago team. He had worked at his religion; his team mates knew his\nChristianity for the real thing. On Sundays, because of his eminence\nas a baseball player, he was in great demand for Y. M. C. A. talks.\nThe sporting papers all alluded frequently to his religious interests\nand activities. Because of his Christian scruples he refused to play\nbaseball on Sunday. During the four years of his experience as a\nChristian member of the baseball profession it might have been clear to\nanybody who cared to study the situation carefully that the young man's\ninterest in religion was steadily deepening and that he was headed\ntoward some form of avowedly Christian service.\n\n[Illustration: BILLY SUNDAY IN NATIONAL LEAGUE UNIFORM.]\n\n\"I had a three-year contract with Philadelphia. I said to God, 'Now if\nyou want me to quit playing ball and go into evangelistic work, then\nyou get me my release,' and so I left it with God to get my release\nbefore the 25th day of March and would take that as an evidence that he\nwanted me to quit playing ball.\n\n\"On the 17th day of March, St. Patrick's day--I shall never forget\nit--I was leading a meeting and received a letter from Colonel Rogers,\npresident of the Philadelphia club, stating I could have my release.\n\n\"In came Jim Hart, of the Cincinnati team, and up on the platform and\npulled out a contract for $3,500. A player only plays seven months, and\nhe threw the check down for $500, the first month's salary in advance.\nHe said, 'Bill, sign up!' But I said, 'No!' I told him that I told God\nif he wanted me to quit playing ball to get my release before the 25th\nday of March and I would quit.\n\n\"There I was up against it. I went around to some of my friends and\nsome said, 'Take it!' Others said, 'Stick to your promise.' I asked my\nfather-in-law about it, and he said, 'You are a blank fool if you don't\ntake it.' I went home and went to bed, but could not sleep, and prayed\nthat night until five o'clock, when I seemed to get the thing straight\nand said, 'No, sir, I will not do it.'\n\n\"I went to work for the Y. M. C. A. and had a very hard time of it. It\nwas during those hard times that I hardly had enough to pay my house\nrent, but I stuck to my promise.\"\n\nIt was in March of 1891 that Sunday made the decision which marked\nthe parting of the ways for him. He abandoned baseball forever as a\nprofession, although not as an interest, and entered upon definite\nreligious work. He accepted a position in the Chicago Y. M. C. A. as a\nsubordinate secretary at $83.33 per month--and sometimes this was six\nmonths overdue.\n\nThe stuff of which the young man's moral character was made is revealed\nby the fact that he deliberately rejected a $500-a-month baseball\ncontract in order to serve Christ at a personal sacrifice. This\nincident reveals the real temper of Sunday, and is to be borne in mind\nwhen discussion is raised concerning the large offerings which are made\nto him now in his successful evangelistic work. That act was not the\ndeed of a money-loving man. If it does not spell consecration, it is\ndifficult to define what it does mean.\n\nDoubtless there were many who thought this ending of a conspicuous\nbaseball career an anti-climax, even as the flight of Moses into the\nwilderness of Sinai apparently spelled defeat. Out of such defeats and\nsacrifices as these grow the victories that best serve the world and\nmost honor God.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nA Curbstone Recruit\n\n You've got to sign your own Declaration of Independence before you can\n celebrate your Fourth of July victory.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nNobody this side of heaven can tell to whom the credit belongs for any\ngreat life or great work. But we may be reasonably sure that the unsung\nand unknown women of the earth have a large part in every achievement\nworth while.\n\nMrs. Clark, saintly wife of Colonel Clark, the devoted founder of the\nPacific Garden Rescue Mission in Chicago, is one of that host of women\nwho, like the few who followed Jesus in his earthly ministry, have\nserved in lowly, inconspicuous ways, doing small tasks from a great\nlove. Night after night, with a consecration which never flagged, she\nlabored in the gospel for a motley crowd of men and women, mostly\nsociety's flotsam and jetsam, many of whom found this hospitable\nbuilding the last fort this side of destruction.\n\nA single visit to a down-town rescue mission is romantic, picturesque\nand somewhat of an adventure--a sort of sanctified slumming trip. Far\ndifferent is it to spend night after night, regardless of weather or\npersonal feelings, in coming to close grips with sin-sodden men and\nwomen, many of them the devil's refuse. A sickening share of the number\nare merely seeking shelter or lodging or food: sin's wages are not\nsufficient to live upon, and they turn to the mercy of Christianity\nfor succor. Never to be cast down by unworthiness or ingratitude, to\nkeep a heart of hope in face of successive failures, and to rejoice\nwith a shepherd's joy over the one rescued--this is the spirit of the\nconsecrated rescue-mission worker.\n\nSuch a woman was Mrs. Clark, the spiritual mother to a multitude of\nredeemed men. Of all the trophies which she has laid at the feet of her\nLord, the redemption of Billy Sunday seems to human eyes the brightest.\nFor it was this woman who persuaded him to accept Christ as his\nSaviour: he whose hand has led perhaps a quarter of a million persons\nto the foot of the Cross was himself led thither by this saintly woman.\n\nWhen we contemplate the relation of that one humble rescue mission in\nChicago, the monument of a business man's consecration to Christ, to\nthe scores of Sunday Tabernacles over the land; and when we connect the\nstreams of penitents on the \"sawdust trail\" with that one young man of\ntwenty-five going forward up the aisle of the rude mission room, we\nrealize afresh that God uses many workers to carry on his one work;\nand that though Paul may plant and Apollos water, it is God alone who\ngiveth the increase.\n\nIt was one evening in the fall of 1887 that Sunday, with five of his\nbaseball team mates, sat on the curbstone of Van Buren Street and\nlistened to the music and testimonies of a band of workers from the\nPacific Garden Rescue Mission. The deeps of sentiment inherited from a\nChristian mother, and the memories of a Christian home, were stirred\nin the breast of one of the men; and Sunday accepted the invitation of\na worker to visit the mission. Moved by the vital testimonies which he\nheard, he went again and again; and at length, after conversation and\nprayer with Mrs. Clark, he made the great decision which committed him\nto the Christian life.\n\nSunday's own story of his conversion is one of the most thrilling of\nall the evangelist's messages. It is a human document, a leaf in that\ngreat book of Christian evidences which God is still writing day by day.\n\n\"Twenty-seven years ago I walked down a street in Chicago in company\nwith some ball players who were famous in this world--some of them are\ndead now--and we went into a saloon. It was Sunday afternoon and we\ngot tanked up and then went and sat down on a corner. I never go by\nthat street without thanking God for saving me. It was a vacant lot\nat that time. We sat down on a curbing. Across the street a company\nof men and women were playing on instruments--horns, flutes and slide\ntrombones--and the others were singing the gospel hymns that I used to\nhear my mother sing back in the log cabin in Iowa and back in the old\nchurch where I used to go to Sunday school.\n\n\"And God painted on the canvas of my recollection and memory a vivid\npicture of the scenes of other days and other faces.\n\n\"Many have long since turned to dust. I sobbed and sobbed and a young\nman stepped out and said, 'We are going down to the Pacific Garden\nMission. Won't you come down to the mission? I am sure you will enjoy\nit. You can hear drunkards tell how they have been saved and girls tell\nhow they have been saved from the red-light district.'\n\n\"I arose and said to the boys, 'I'm through. I am going to Jesus\nChrist. We've come to the parting of the ways,' and I turned my back on\nthem. Some of them laughed and some of them mocked me; one of them gave\nme encouragement; others never said a word.\n\n\"Twenty-seven years ago I turned and left that little group on the\ncorner of State and Madison Streets and walked to the little mission\nand fell on my knees and staggered out of sin and into the arms of the\nSaviour.\n\n\"The next day I had to get out to the ball park and practice. Every\nmorning at ten o'clock we had to be out there. I never slept that\nnight. I was afraid of the horse-laugh that gang would give me because\nI had taken my stand for Jesus Christ.\n\n\"I walked down to the old ball grounds. I will never forget it. I\nslipped my key into the wicket gate and the first man to meet me after\nI got inside was Mike Kelly.\n\n\"Up came Mike Kelly; he said, 'Bill, I'm proud of you! Religion is not\nmy long suit, but I'll help you all I can.' Up came Anson, the best\nball player that ever played the game; Pfeffer, Clarkson, Flint, Jimmy\nMcCormick, Burns, Williamson and Dalrymple. There wasn't a fellow in\nthat gang who knocked; every fellow had a word of encouragement for me.\n\n\"Mike Kelly was sold to Boston for $10,000. Mike got half of the\npurchase price. He came up to me and showed me a check for $5,000. John\nL. Sullivan, the champion fighter, went around with a subscription\npaper and the boys raised over $12,000 to buy Mike a house.\n\n[Illustration: \"BILL, I'M PROUD OF YOU!\"]\n\n\"They gave Mike a deed to the house and they had $1,500 left and gave\nhim a certificate of deposit for that.\n\n\"His salary for playing with Boston was $4,700 a year. At the end of\nthat season Mike had spent the $5,000 purchase price and the $4,700\nhe received as salary and the $1,500 they gave him and had a mortgage\non the house. And when he died in Pennsylvania they went around with\na subscription to get money enough to put him in the ground, and each\nclub, twelve in all, in the two leagues gave a month a year to his\nwife. Mike sat here on the corner with me twenty-seven years ago, when\nI said, 'Good-bye, boys, I'm going to Jesus Christ.'\n\n\"A. G. Spalding signed up a team to go around the world. I was the\nsecond he asked to sign a contract and Captain Anson was the first. I\nwas sliding to second base one day. I always slid head first, and hit a\nstone and cut a ligament loose in my knee.\n\n\"I got Dr. Magruder, who attended Garfield when he was shot, and he\nsaid:\n\n\"'William, if you don't go on that trip I will give you a good leg.' I\nobeyed and have as good a leg today as I ever had. They offered to wait\nfor me at Honolulu and Australia. Spalding said, 'Meet us in England,\nand play with us through England, Scotland and Wales.' I didn't go.\n\n\"Ed Williamson, our old short-stop, a fellow weighing 225 pounds, was\nthe most active big man you ever saw. He went with them, and while\nthey were on the ship crossing the English channel a storm arose\nand the captain thought the ship would go down. Williamson tied two\nlife-preservers on himself and one on his wife and dropped on his\nknees and prayed and promised God to be true. God spoke and the waves\nwere stilled. They came back to the United States and Ed came back to\nChicago and started a saloon on Dearborn Street. I would go through\nthere giving tickets for the Y. M. C. A. meetings and would talk with\nthem and he would cry like a baby.\n\n\"I would get down and pray for him, and would talk with him. When\nhe died they put him on the table and cut him open and took out his\nliver and it was so big it would not go in a candy bucket. Kidneys had\nshriveled until they were like two stones.\n\n\"Ed Williamson sat there on the street corner with me, drunk,\ntwenty-seven years ago when I said, 'Good-bye, I'm going to Jesus\nChrist.'\n\n\"Frank Flint, our old catcher, who caught for nineteen years,\ndrew $3,200 a year on an average. He caught before they had chest\nprotectors, masks and gloves. He caught bare-handed. Every bone in the\nball of his hand was broken. You never saw such a hand as Frank had.\nEvery bone in his face was broken, and his nose and cheek bones, and\nthe shoulder and ribs had all been broken. He got to drinking, his home\nwas broken up and he went to the dogs.\n\n\"I've seen old Frank Flint sleeping on a table in a stale beer joint\nand I've turned my pockets inside out and said, 'You're welcome to it,\nold pal.' He drank on and on, and one day in winter he staggered out of\na stale beer joint and stood on a corner, and was seized with a fit of\ncoughing. The blood streamed out of his nose, mouth and eyes. Down the\nstreet came a wealthy woman. She took one look and said, 'My God, is it\nyou, Frank?' and his wife came up and kissed him.\n\n\"She called two policemen and a cab and started with him to her\nboarding house. They broke all speed regulations. She called five of\nthe best physicians and they listened to the beating of his heart, one,\ntwo, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve,\nand the doctors said, 'He will be dead in about four hours.' She told\nthem to tell him what they had told her. She said, 'Frank, the end is\nnear,' and he said, 'Send for Bill.'\n\n\"They telephoned me and I came. He said, 'There's nothing in the life\nof years ago I care for now. I can hear the bleachers cheer when I\nmake a hit that wins the game. But there is nothing that can help me\nout now; and if the umpire calls me out now, won't you say a few words\nover me, Bill?' He struggled as he had years ago on the diamond, when\nhe tried to reach home, but the great Umpire of the universe yelled,\n'You're out!' and waved him to the club house, and the great gladiator\nof the diamond was no more.\n\n\"He sat on the street corner with me, drunk, twenty-seven years ago in\nChicago, when I said, 'Good-bye, boys, I'm through.'\n\n\"Did they win the game of life or did Bill?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"FIRST--ARE YOU KINDLY DISPOSED TOWARD ME?\"]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nPlaying the New Game\n\n It is not necessary to be in a big place to do big things.--BILLY\n SUNDAY.\n\n\nIf Billy Sunday had not been an athlete he would not today be the\nphysical marvel in the pulpit that he is; if he had not been reared\nin the ranks of the plain people he would not have possessed the\nvocabulary and insight into life which are essential parts of his\nequipment; if he had not served a long apprenticeship to toil he\nwould not display his present pitiless industry; if he had not been\na cog in the machinery of organized baseball, with wide travel and\nmuch experience of men, he would not be able to perfect the amazing\norganization of Sunday evangelistic campaigns; if he had not been a\nmember and elder of a Presbyterian church he could not have resisted\nthe religious vagaries which lead so many evangelists and immature\nChristian workers astray; if he had not been trained in three years of\nY. M. C. A. service he would not today be the flaming and insistent\nprotagonist of personal work that he now is; if he had not been\nconverted definitely and consciously and quickly in a rescue mission he\ncould not now preach his gospel of immediate conversion.\n\nAll of which is but another way of saying that Sunday was trained in\nGod's school. God prepared the man for the work he was preparing for\nhim. Only by such uncommon training could this unique messenger of the\ngospel be produced. A college course doubtless would have submerged\nSunday into the level of the commonplace. A theological seminary would\nhave denatured him. Evidently Sunday has learned the lesson of the\nvalue of individuality; he prizes it, preaches about it, and practices\nit. He probably does not know what \"_sui generis_\" means, but he is it.\nOver and over again he urges that instead of railing at what we have\nnot enjoyed, we should magnify what we already possess. The shepherd's\nrod of Moses, rightly wielded, may be mightier than a king's scepter.\n\nAs we approach the development of the unique work of Billy Sunday,\nwhich is without a parallel in the history of evangelism, we must\nreckon with those forces which developed his personality and trace the\nsteps which led him into his present imperial activity. For he has gone\nforward a step at a time.\n\nHe followed the wise rule of the rescue mission, that the saved should\nsay so. At the very beginning he began to bear testimony to his new\nfaith. Wherever opportunity offered he spoke a good word for Jesus\nChrist. In many towns and cities his testimony was heard in those early\ndays; and there was not a follower of the baseball game who did not\nknow that Billy Sunday was a Christian.\n\nThe convert who does not join a church is likely soon to be in a bad\nway; so Sunday early united with the Jefferson Park Presbyterian\nChurch, Chicago. He went into religious activity with all the ardor\nthat he displayed on the baseball field. He attended the Christian\nEndeavor society, prayer-meeting and the mid-week church service.\nThis is significant; for it is usually the church members who are\nfaithful at the mid-week prayer-meetings who are the vital force in a\ncongregation.\n\nOther rewards than spiritual awaited Sunday at the prayer-meeting;\nfor there he met Helen A. Thompson, the young woman who subsequently\nbecame his wife. Between the meeting and the marriage altar there were\nvarious obstacles to be overcome. Another suitor was in the way, and\nbesides, Miss Thompson's father did not take kindly to the idea of\na professional baseball player as a possible son-in-law, for he had\nold-fashioned Scotch notions of things. \"Love conquers all,\" and in\nSeptember, 1888, the young couple were married, taking their wedding\ntrip by going on circuit with the baseball team.\n\nMrs. Sunday's influence upon her husband has been extraordinary. It\nis a factor to be largely considered in any estimate of the man. He is\na devoted husband, of the American type, and with his ardent loyalty\nto his wife has complete confidence in her judgment. She is his man\nof affairs. Her Scotch heritage has endowed her with the prudent\nqualities of that race, and she is the business manager of Mr. Sunday's\ncampaigns. She it is who holds her generous, careless husband down to a\nrealization of the practicalities of life.\n\nHe makes no important decisions without consulting her, and she travels\nwith him nearly all of the time, attending his meetings and watching\nover his work and his personal well-being like a mother. In addition\nMrs. Sunday does yeoman service in the evangelistic campaigns.\n\nThe helplessness of the evangelist without his wife is almost\nludicrous: he dislikes to settle any question, whether it be an\nacceptance of an invitation from a city or the employment of an\nadditional worker, without Mrs. Sunday's counsel. Frequently he turns\nvexed problems over to her, and abides implicitly by her decision,\nwithout looking into the matter himself at all.\n\nFour children--Helen, George, William and Paul--have been born to the\nSundays, two of whom are themselves married. The modest Sunday home is\nin Winona Lake, Indiana. When Mrs. Sunday is absent with her husband,\nthe two younger children are left in the care of a trusted helper. The\nevangelist himself is home for only a short period each summer.\n\nMrs. Sunday was the deciding factor in determining her husband to\nabandon baseball for distinctively religious work. A woman of real\nScotch piety, in the time of decision she chose the better part. Her\nhusband had been addressing Y. M. C. A. meetings, Sunday-schools and\nChristian Endeavor societies. He was undeniably a poor speaker. No\nprophet could have foreseen the present master of platform art in the\nstammering, stumbling young man whose only excuse for addressing public\nmeetings was the eagerness of men to hear the celebrated baseball\nplayer's story. His speech was merely his testimony, such as is\nrequired of all mission converts.\n\nIf Sunday could not talk well on his feet he could handle individual\nmen. His aptness in dealing with men led the Chicago Young Men's\nChristian Association to offer him an assistant secretaryship in the\ndepartment of religious work. It is significant that the baseball\nplayer went into the Y. M. C. A. not as a physical director but in the\ndistinctively spiritual sphere. He refused an invitation to become\nphysical director; for his religious zeal from the first outshone his\nphysical prowess.\n\nThose three years of work in the Chicago Association bulk large in the\ndevelopment of the evangelist. They were not all spent in dealing with\nthe unconverted, by any means. Sunday's tasks included the securing\nof speakers for noon-day prayer-meetings, the conducting of office\nroutine, the raising of money, the distribution of literature, the\nvisiting of saloons and other places to which invitations should be\ncarried, and the following up of persons who had displayed an interest\nin the meetings. Much of it was sanctified drudgery: but it was all\ndrill for destiny. The young man saw at close range and with particular\ndetail what sin could do to men; and he also learned the power of the\nGospel to make sinners over.\n\nThe evangelist often alludes to those days of personal work in Chicago.\nSuch stories as the following have been heard by thousands.\n\n\nA Father Disowned\n\n\"While I was in the Y. M. C. A. in Chicago I was standing on the corner\none night and a man came along with his toes sticking out and a ragged\nsuit on and a slouch hat and asked me for a dime to get something to\neat. I told him I wouldn't give him a dime because he would go and get\na drink. He said, 'You wouldn't let me starve, would you?' I told him\nno, but that I wouldn't give him the money. I asked him to come to\nthe Y. M. C. A. with me and stay until after the meeting and I would\ntake him out and get him a good supper and a bed. He wanted me to do it\nright away before going to the Y. M. C. A., but I told him that I was\nworking for someone until ten o'clock. So he came up to the meeting and\nstayed through the meeting and was very much interested. I saw that he\nused excellent language and questioned him and found that he was a man\nwho had been Adjutant General of one of the Central States and had at\none time been the editor of two of the biggest newspapers.\n\n\"I went with him after the meeting and got him a supper and a bed and\nwent to some friends and we got his clothes. I asked him if he had any\nrelatives and he said he had one son who was a bank cashier but that he\nhad disowned him and his picture was taken from the family album and\nhis name was never spoken in the house, all because he was now down and\nout, on account of booze.\n\n\"I wrote to the boy and said, 'I've found your father. Send me some\nmoney to help him.'\n\n\"He wrote back and said for me never to mention his father's name to\nhim again, that it wasn't ever spoken around the house and that his\nfather was forgotten.\n\n\"I replied: 'You miserable, low-down wretch. You can't disown your\nfather and refuse to help him because he is down and out. Send me some\nmoney or I will publish the story in all of the papers.' He sent me\nfive dollars and that's all I ever got from him. I took care of the old\nman all winter and in the spring I went to a relief society in Chicago\nand got him a ticket to his home and put him on the train and that was\nthe last I ever saw of him.\"\n\n\nRedeeming a Son\n\n\"I stood on the street one Sunday night giving out tickets inviting\nmen to the men's meeting in Farwell Hall. Along came a young fellow, I\nshould judge he was thirty, who looked prematurely old, and he said,\n'Pard, will you give me a dime?'\n\n\"I said, 'No, sir.'\n\n\"'I want to get somethin' to eat.'\n\n\"I said, 'You look to me as though you were a booze-fighter.'\n\n\"'I am.'\n\n\"'I'll not give you money, but I'll get your supper.'\n\n\"He said, 'Come on. I haven't eaten for two days.'\n\n\"'My time is not my own until ten o'clock. You go upstairs until then\nand I'll buy you a good supper and get you a good, warm, clean bed in\nwhich to sleep, but I'll not give you the money.'\n\n\"He said, 'Thank you, I'll go.' He stayed for the meeting. I saw he was\nmoved, and after the meeting I stood by his side. He wept and I talked\nto him about Jesus Christ, and he told me this story:\n\n\"There were three boys in the family. They lived in Boston. The father\ndied, the will was probated, he was given his portion, took it, started\nout drinking and gambling. At last he reached Denver, his money was\ngone, and he got a position as fireman in the Denver and Rio Grande\nswitchyards. His mother kept writing to him, but he told me that he\nnever read the letters. He said that when he saw the postmark and the\nwriting he threw the letter into the firebox, but one day, he couldn't\ntell why, he opened the letter and it read:\n\n\"'Dear----: I haven't heard from you directly, but I am sure that you\nmust need a mother's care in the far-off West, and unless you answer\nthis in a reasonable time I'm going to Denver to see you.' And she\nwent on pleading, as only a mother could, and closed it: 'Your loving\nmother.'\n\n\"He said, 'I threw the letter in the fire and paid no more heed to it.\nOne day about two weeks later I saw a woman coming down the track and I\nsaid to the engineer: \"That looks like my mother.\" She drew near, and I\nsaid: \"Yes, that's mother.\" What do you think I did?'\n\n\"I said, 'Why you climbed out of your engine, kissed her and asked God\nto forgive you.'\n\n\"He said, 'I did nothing of the kind. I was so low-down, I wouldn't\neven speak to my mother. She followed me up and down the switchyard\nand even followed me to my boarding house. I went upstairs, changed\nmy clothes, came down, and she said, \"Frank, stay and talk with me.\"\nI pushed by her and went out and spent the night in sin. I came back\nin the morning, changed my clothes and went to work. For four days she\nfollowed me up and down the switchyards and then she said, \"Frank, you\nhave broken my heart, and I am going away tomorrow.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"FRANK, KISS ME GOOD-BYE!\"]\n\n\"'I happened to be near the depot with the engine when she got on the\ntrain and she raised the window and said, \"Frank, kiss me good-bye.\"\nI stood talking with some of my drinking and gambling friends and one\nman said, \"Frank Adsitt, you are a fool to treat your mother like that.\nKiss her good-bye.\" I jerked from him and turned back. I heard the\nconductor call \"All aboard.\" I heard the bell on the engine ring and\nthe train started out, and I heard my mother cry, \"Oh, Frank, if you\nwon't kiss me good-bye, for God's sake turn and look at me!\"\n\n\"'Mr. Sunday, when the train on the Burlington Railroad pulled out of\nDenver, I stood with my back to my mother. That's been nine years ago\nand I have never seen nor heard from her.'\n\n\"I led him to Jesus. I got him a position in the old Exposition\nbuilding on the lake front. He gave me the money he didn't need for\nboard and washing. I kept his money for months. He came to me one day\nand asked for it.\n\n\"He used to come to the noon meetings every day. Finally I missed him,\nand I didn't see him again until in June, 1893, during the World's Fair\nhe walked into the Y. M. C. A. I said, 'Why, Frank, how do you do?'\n\n\"He said, 'How do you know me?'\n\n\"I said, 'I have never forgotten you; how is your mother?'\n\n\"He smiled, then his face quickly changed to sadness, and he said,\n'She is across the street in the Brevoort House. I am taking her to\nCalifornia to fill her last days with sunshine.'\n\n\"Three months later, out in Pasadena, she called him to her bedside,\ndrew him down, kissed him, and said, 'Good-bye; I can die happy because\nI know my boy is a Christian.'\"\n\n\nThe Gambler\n\n\"I have reached down into the slime, and have been privileged to help\ntens of thousands out of the mire of sin--and I believe that most of\nthem will be saved, too. I've helped men in all walks of life. When I\nwas in Chicago I helped a man and got him a position, and so was able\nto restore him to his wife and children. One night a fellow came to me\nand told me that the man was playing faro bank down on Clark Street. I\nsaid: 'Why that can hardly be--I took dinner with him only a few hours\nago.'\n\n\"But my informant had told me the truth, so I put on my coat and went\ndown LaSalle Street and past the New York Life Building and along up\nthe stairway to the gambling room. I went past the big doorkeeper, and\nI found a lot of men in there, playing keno and faro bank and roulette\nand stud and draw poker. I saw my man there, just playing a hand. In a\nmoment he walked over to the bar and ordered a Rhine wine and seltzer.\n\n[Illustration: THE PACIFIC GARDEN MISSION IN CHICAGO, WHERE BILLY\nSUNDAY WAS CONVERTED.]\n\n\"I walked over and touched him on the shoulder, and he looked and\nturned pale. I said, 'Come out of this. Come with me.' He said, 'Here's\nmy money,' and pulled $144 from his pocket and handed it to me. 'I\ndon't want your money.' He refused at first, and it was one o'clock\nin the morning before I got him away from there. I took him home and\ntalked to him, then I sent down into Ohio for an old uncle of his, for\nhe had forged notes amounting to $2,000 or so, and we had to get him\nout of trouble. We got him all fixed up and we got him a job selling\nrelief maps, and he made $5,000 a year.\n\n\"I didn't hear from him for a long time; then one day Jailor Whitman\ncalled me up and told me that Tom Barrett, an old ball player I knew\nwell, wanted me to come up and see a man who had been sentenced to the\npenitentiary. I went down to the jail and the prisoner was my friend.\nI asked him what was the matter, and he said that he and some other\nfellows had framed up a plan to stick up a jewelry store. He was caught\nand the others got away. He wouldn't snitch, and so he was going down\nto Joliet on an indeterminate sentence of from one to fourteen years.\nHe said: 'You are the only man that will help me. Will you do it?'\n\n\"I said: 'I won't help you, I won't spend so much as a postage stamp on\nyou if you are going to play me dirt again!' He promised to do better\nas soon as he got out, and I wrote a letter to my friend, Andy Russell,\nchairman of the board of pardons. He took up the case and we got my\nfriend's sentence cut down to a maximum of five years.\n\n\"Time passed again, and one day he came in dressed fit to kill. He had\non an $80 overcoat, a $50 suit, a $4 necktie, a pair of patent leather\nshoes that cost $15, shirt buttons as big as hickory nuts and diamond\ncuff buttons. He walked up to my desk in the Y. M. C. A. and pulled out\na roll of bills. There were a lot of them--yellow fellows. I noticed\nthat there was one for $500. There was over $4,500 in the roll. He\nsaid: 'I won it last night at faro bank.' He asked me to go out to\ndinner with him and I went. We had everything on the bill of fare,\nfrom soup to nuts, and the check was $7.60 apiece for two suppers. I've\nnever had such a dinner since.\n\n\"We talked things over. He said he was making money hand over\nfist--that he could make more in a week than I could in a year. I was\nworking at the Y. M. C. A. for $83 a month, and then not getting it,\nand baseball managers were making me tempting offers of good money to\ngo back into the game at $500 to $1,000 a month to finish the season.\nBut I wouldn't do it. Nobody called me a grafter then. 'Well,' I said\nto my friend, 'old man, you may have more at the end of the year than\nI've got--maybe I won't have carfare--but I'll be ahead of you.'\n\n\"Where is he now? Down at Joliet, where there is a big walled\ninstitution and where the stripes on your clothes run crossways.\"\n\n\nA Living Testimony\n\n\"I had a friend who was a brilliant young fellow. He covered the\nChino-Japanese war for a New York paper. He was on his way home when\nhe was shipwrecked, and the captain and he were on an island living on\nroots for a week and then they signaled a steamer and got started home.\nHe got word from the New York _Tribune_ and they told him to go to\nFrisco, so he went, and they told him to come across the arid country\nand write up the prospects of irrigation. And as he walked across\nthose plains, he thought of how they would blossom if they were only\nirrigated. Then he thought of how his life was like that desert, with\nnothing in it but waste.\n\n\"He got to Chicago and got a job on the _Times_ and lost it on\naccount of drunkenness, and couldn't get another on account of having\nno recommendation. So he walked out one winter night and took his\nreporter's book, addressed it to his father, and wrote something like\nthis: 'I've made a miserable failure of this life. I've disgraced you\nand sent mother to a premature grave. If you care to look for me\nyou'll find my body in the Chicago River.' He tossed aside the book and\nit fell on the snow.\n\n\"He leaped to the rail of the bridge, but a policeman who had been\nwatching him sprang and caught him. He begged him to let him leap,\nbut the policeman wouldn't do it and got his story from him. Then the\npoliceman said, 'Well, I don't know whether you're stringing me or not,\nbut if half of what you say is true you can make a big thing out of\nlife. I'm not much on religion, but I'll show you a place where they\nwill keep you,' and he took him to the Pacific Garden Mission at 100\nEast Van Buren Street, which for 13,000 nights has had its doors open\nevery night.\n\n\"He went in and sat down by a bum. He read some of the mottos, like\n'When did you write to mother last?' and they began to work on him and\nhe asked the bum what graft they got out of this. The bum flared right\nup and said there was no graft, that Mrs. Clark had just mortgaged her\nhome for $3,000 to pay back rent. Then he told him he could sleep right\nthere and go down in the morning and get something to eat free, and if\nhe could not land a bed by next night he could come back to one of the\nbenches. Then my friend got up and told him the story of Jesus Christ,\nand the young man went down and accepted Christ. He was so full of gold\nbromide cures that he tingled when he talked and he jingled when he\nwalked.\n\n\"He started out to give his testimony and he was a marvelous power. I\nmet him some time later in an elevator in Chicago, and he was dressed\nto kill with a silk lid and a big diamond and the latest cut Prince\nAlbert, and he said, 'Bill, that was a great day for me. I started out\nwith not enough clothes to make a tail for a kite or a pad for a crutch\nand now look at me.' He was secretary in the firm of Morgan & Wright,\nand was drawing $175 a month. He is an expert stenographer. A newspaper\nin New York had written him to take an associate editorship, but I told\nhim not to do it, to stay where he was and tell his story.\"\n\nThe next class in the University of Experience which Sunday entered\nwas that of professional evangelistic work, in association with Rev.\nJ. Wilbur Chapman, D.D., the well-known Presbyterian evangelist. This\ninvitation came after three years of service in the Chicago Y. M. C.\nA. Not yet to platform speaking as his chief task was Sunday called.\nFar from it. He was a sort of general roustabout for the evangelist.\nHis duties were multifarious. He was advance agent, going ahead to\narrange meetings, to organize choirs, to help the local committee\nof arrangements with its advertising or other preparations, and, in\ngeneral, tying up all loose ends. When tents were used he would help\nerect them with his own hands; the fists that so sturdily beat pulpits\ntoday, have often driven home tent pegs. Sunday sold the evangelist's\nsong books and sermons at the meetings; helped take up the collection,\nand, when need arose, spoke from the platform. The persons who wonder\nat the amazing efficiency for organization displayed by Sunday\noverlook this unique apprenticeship to a distinguished evangelist. He\nis a \"practical man\" in every aspect of evangelistic campaigns, from\norganizing a local committee and building the auditorium, to handling\nand training the converts who come forward.\n\nThe providence of all this is clear in retrospect: but as for Sunday\nhimself, he was being led by a way that he knew not.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nA Shut Door--and an Open One\n\n Faith is the beginning of something of which you can't see the end but\n in which you believe.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nDestiny's door turns on small hinges. Almost everybody can say out\nof his own experience, \"If I had done this, instead of that, the\nwhole course of my life would have been changed.\" At many points in\nthe career of William A. Sunday we see what intrinsically small and\nunrelated incidents determined his future course in life.\n\nIf he had not been sitting on that Chicago curbstone one evening, and\nif the Pacific Garden Mission workers had failed on that one occasion\nalone to go forth into the highways, Billy Sunday might have been only\none of the multitude of forgotten baseball players. If he had not gone\nto prayer-meeting in his new church home he would not have met the wife\nwho has been so largely a determining factor in his work. If he had not\njoined the Y. M. C. A. forces in Chicago he would not have become Peter\nBilhorn's friend and so Dr. Chapman's assistant.\n\nAnd--here we come to a very human story--if Dr. J. Wilbur Chapman had\nnot suddenly decided to abandon the evangelistic field and return to\nthe pastorate of Bethany Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, Sunday\nwould doubtless still be unknown to the world as a great religious\nleader. The story came to me from the lips of the evangelist himself\none morning. We were discussing certain current criticisms of his\nwork and he showed himself frankly bewildered as well as pained by\nthe hostility displayed toward him on the part of those up to whom\nhe looked as leaders and counselors. Off the platform Sunday is one\nof the most childlike and guileless of men. He grew reminiscent and\nconfidential as he said to me: \"I don't see why they hammer me so. I\nhave just gone on, as the Lord opened the way, trying to do his work. I\nhad no plan for this sort of thing. It is all the Lord's doings. Just\nlook how it all began, and how wonderfully the Lord has cared for me.\n\n\"I had given up my Y. M. C. A. work, and was helping Chapman, doing all\nsorts of jobs--putting up tents, straightening out chairs after the\nmeetings and occasionally speaking. Then, all of a sudden, during the\nholidays of 1895-96, I had a telegram from Chapman saying that our work\nwas all off, because he had decided to return to Bethany Church.\n\n\"There I was, out of work, knowing not which way to turn. I had a wife\nand two children to support. I could not go back to baseball. I had\ngiven up my Y. M. C. A. position. I had no money. What should I do? I\nlaid it before the Lord, and in a short while there came a telegram\nfrom a little town named Garner, out in Iowa, asking me to come out and\nconduct some meetings. I didn't know anybody out there, and I don't\nknow yet why they ever asked me to hold meetings. But I went.\n\n\"I only had eight sermons, so could not run more than ten days, and\nthat only by taking Saturdays off. That was the beginning of my\nindependent work; but from that day to this I have never had to seek\na call to do evangelistic work. I have just gone along, entering the\ndoors that the Lord has opened one after another. Now I have about a\nhundred sermons and invitations for more than two years in advance. I\nhave tried to be true to the Lord and to do just what he wants me to\ndo.\"\n\nThat na\u00efve bit of autobiography reveals the real Billy Sunday. He\nhas gone forward as the doors have been providentially opened. His\ncareer has not been shrewdly planned by himself. Nobody has been more\nsurprised at his success than he. Of him may be recorded the lines\nthat are inscribed on Emerson's tombstone in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery,\nConcord:\n\n    \"The passive master lent his hand\n    To the vast Soul that o'er him planned.\"\n\nFrom Garner, Iowa, to Philadelphia, with its most eminent citizens on\nthe committee of arrangements, seems a far cry; but the path is plainly\none of Providence. Sunday has added to his addresses gleanings from\nmany sources, but he has not abated the simplicity of his message. The\ngospel he preaches today is that which he heard in the Pacific Garden\nRescue Mission a quarter of a century ago.\n\nIn childlike faith, this man of straight and unshaded thinking has gone\nforward to whatever work has offered itself. Nobody knows better than\nhe that it is by no powers of his own that mighty results have been\nachieved: \"This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.\"\n\nWhile the Sunday meetings have swung a wide orbit they have centered\nin the Middle West. That typically American section of the country was\nquick to appreciate the evangelist's character and message. He was of\nthem, \"bone of their bone, flesh of their flesh,\" mind of their mind.\n\nWhen news of the triumphs of this evangelist's unconventionally-phrased\ngospel began to be carried over the country a few years ago, the\nverdict of religious leaders was, \"Billy Sunday may do for the Middle\nWest, but the East will not stand him.\" Since then, again, to the\nconfusion of human wisdom, his most notable work has been achieved in\nthe East, in the great cities of Pittsburgh and Scranton; and at this\nwriting the city of Philadelphia is in the midst of preparations for a\nSunday campaign; while the Baltimore churches have also invited him to\nconduct meetings with them. Billy Sunday is now a national figure--and\nthe foremost personality on the day's religious horizon. A recent issue\nof _The American Magazine_ carried the results of a voting contest,\n\"Who's the Greatest Man in America.\" Only one other clergyman (Bishop\nVincent, of Chautauqua) was mentioned at all, but Billy Sunday was tied\nwith Andrew Carnegie and Judge Lindsey for eighth place.\n\nTo tell the stories of the Sunday campaigns in detail would be needless\nrepetition; with occasional exceptions they continue to grow in scope\nand efficiency and results. The record of independent campaigns extends\nover nearly twenty years, and in that time the evangelist has gone on\nfrom strength to strength.\n\n[Illustration: SUNDAY POSING IN FRONT OF TABERNACLE.]\n\n[Illustration: BILLY'S SMILE.]\n\n[Illustration: SUNDAY AND HIS YOUNGEST SON PAUL.]\n\n[Illustration: MR. AND MRS. SUNDAY IN A REVIVAL PARADE.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nCampaigning for Christ\n\n Let's quit fiddling with religion and do something to bring the world\n to Christ.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nHis American birthright of plain common sense stands Sunday in stead\nof theological training. He is \"a practical man,\" as mechanics say.\nKipling's poem on \"The American\" hits off Sunday exactly:\n\n    \"He turns a keen, untroubled face\n    Home to the instant need of things.\"\n\nSo a Sunday evangelistic campaign is a marvel of organization. It\nspells efficiency at every turn and is a lesson to the communities\nwhich do Christian work in haphazard, hit-or-miss fashion. Work and\nfaith are written large over every series of Sunday meetings.\n\nSunday never took a course in psychology, but he understands the crowd\nmind. He knows how to deal with multitudes. He sees clearly where the\nmasses must come from, and so he sets to work to bring them out of the\nhomes of the working people. He goes beyond the church circles for his\ncongregations, and makes his appeal to the popular taste. He frankly\naims to strike the average of the common people. For he is after that\nhost which too often the preacher knows nothing about.\n\nPeople must be set to talking about religion and about the Sunday\ncampaign if the latter is to succeed. Indifference is the foe of all\nfoes to be feared by an evangelist. Even hostile criticism really\nserves a religious purpose, for it directs attention to the messenger\nand the message. Knowledge of this is the reason why Sunday always\ndevotes his earliest sermons in a campaign to the subjects likeliest\nto create comment. These are the discourses that contain the largest\nproportion of startling views and language.\n\nPart of the task of a man who would move a city for Christ is to\nconsolidate Christian sentiment and to create a Church consciousness.\nSunday is at great pains to get his own \"crowd\" behind him. He evokes\nthat loyalty which alone makes organized work and war effective.\n\nSo he insists that churches must unite before he will visit a city.\nAlso he asks that they surrender their Sunday services, all uniting in\ncommon worship in the Tabernacle. For these campaigns are not Billy\nSunday meetings: they are an effort toward a revival of religion on the\npart of the united Christian forces of a community. If anybody thinks\nthe evangelist disparages the Church, he need but recall the particular\neffort Sunday makes to solidify the Church folk: that reveals his real\nestimate of the Church. He would no more attempt a revival without\nchurch co-operation than a general would besiege a city without an\narmy. This Christian unity which he requires first of all is a sermon\nin itself.\n\nBefore one has looked very deeply into the work of Evangelist Sunday\nhe perceives that it is no new message the man speaks, but that it is\nhis modernization of language and of methods that makes possible the\nachieving of great results by the old Gospel.\n\nThe preacher of a generation ago would have counted it indecorous\nto make use of the public press. Sunday depends largely upon the\nnewspapers for spreading his message and promoting interest in the\nmeetings. He does not employ a press agent; he simply extends to the\nlocal press all the facilities and co-operation in his power. He is\nalways accessible to the reporters and ever ready to assist in their\nwork in any proper fashion. He makes public announcements frequently\nin his meetings of the cordial assistance he has received from the\nnewspapers.\n\nWithout any expense to anybody and without any scientific experience in\nthis particular field, Sunday has demonstrated the power of Christian\npublicity. The newspapers carry his messages all over the world. The\nPittsburgh dailies published special \"Sunday Editions.\" They had\nthousands of subscribers for the issues containing the evangelist's\nsermons and many persons have been converted by reading the newspaper\naccounts of the Sunday meetings. One cherished story tells of a young\nman in China who had been converted thirteen thousand miles away from\nthe spot where the evangelist was speaking. Sunday makes religion \"live\nnews.\" Editors are glad to have copy about him and his work, and about\nanything that pertains to the campaigns. The uniform experience of the\ncommunities he has visited is that the Church has had more publicity\nthrough his visit than on any other occasion.\n\nAfter Sunday has accepted a city's invitation and a date has been fixed\nfor the meetings, and the time has drawn near, he gets the Church\npeople to organize. Before ever a hammer has struck a blow in the\nbuilding of the Sunday Tabernacle, the people have been meeting daily\nin the homes of the city for concerted prayer for the Divine favor upon\nthe campaign.\n\nBy the Sunday system of work, every few blocks in the city is made\na center for cottage prayer-meetings. No politician ever divided a\ncommunity more carefully than do the Sunday workers in arranging for\nthese prayer-meetings. Every section of the city is covered and every\nblock and street. By preference, the meetings are held in the homes of\nthe unconverted, and it is a normal experience for conversions to be\nreported before ever the evangelist arrives. In Scranton the city was\ndivided into nine districts besides the suburbs and these districts\nwere again sub-divided so that one had as many as eighty-four prayer\ngroups. The total proportions of this kind of work are illustrated\nby the Pittsburgh figures: Between December 2 and December 26, 4,137\nprayer meetings in private houses were held, having a combined\nattendance of 68,360 persons. The following table covers eight\nmeetings, as follows:\n\n               No. of    Attendance  Prayers    Men      Women\n               Meetings\n\n  December  2    562       8,394      3,362     1,658    6,736\n  December  5    579       8,909      3,667     1,931    6,978\n  December  9    586      10,667      4,271     2,221    8,446\n  December 12    410       6,532      2,753     1,410    5,122\n  December 16    705      16,257      5,588     3,439   12,617\n  December 19    590       8,580      4,602     2,027    6,553\n  December 23    398       6,014      2,347     2,381    3,633\n  December 26    307       5,388      1,983     1,179    4,209\n\nWhen tens of thousands of earnest Christians are meeting constantly\nfor united prayer a spirit of expectancy and unity is created which\nmakes sure the success of the revival. Incidentally, there is a welding\ntogether of Christian forces that will abide long after the evangelist\nhas gone. These preliminary prayer-meetings are a revelation of the\ntremendous possibilities inherent in the churches of any community.\nWith such a sea of prayer buoying him up any preacher could have a\nrevival.\n\nSagaciously, Sunday throws all responsibility back on the churches.\nWhile he takes command of the ship when he arrives, yet he does all\nin his power to prevent the campaign from being a one-man affair. The\nlocal committee must underwrite the expenses; for these campaigns are\nnot to be financed by the gifts of the wealthy, but by the rank and\nfile of the church membership accepting responsibility of the work. The\nguarantees are underwritten in the form of shares and each guarantor\nreceives a receipt for his shares to be preserved as a memento of the\ncampaign. True, no guarantor ever had to pay a dollar on his Billy\nSunday campaign subscription, for the evangelist himself raises all of\nthe expense money in the early meetings of the series.\n\nJohn the Baptist was only a voice: but Billy Sunday is a voice, plus a\nbewildering array of committees and assistants and organized machinery.\nHe has committees galore to co-operate in his work: a drilled army\nof the Lord. In the list of Scranton workers that is before me I see\ntabulated an executive committee, the directors, a prayer-meeting\ncommittee, an entertainment committee, an usher committee, a dinner\ncommittee, a business women's committee, a building committee, a\nnursery committee, a personal workers' committee, a decorating\ncommittee, a shop-meetings committee--and then a whole list of churches\nand religious organizations in the city as ex-officio workers!\n\nWherever he goes Sunday erects a special tabernacle for his meetings.\nThere are many reasons for this. The very building of a tabernacle\ndedicated to this one special use helps create an interest in\nthe campaign as something new come to town. But, primarily, the\nevangelist's purposes are practical. In the first place, everything has\nto be on the ground floor. Converts cannot come forward from a gallery.\nIn addition, existing big buildings rarely have proper acoustics. Most\nof all Sunday, who has a dread of panics or accidents happening in\nconnection with his meetings, stresses the point that in his tabernacle\npeople have their feet on the ground. There is nothing to give way with\nthem. The sawdust and tan bark is warm, dustless, sanitary, fireproof\nand noiseless. \"When a crowd gets to walking on a wooden floor,\" said\nSunday--and then he made a motion of sheer disgust that shows how\nsensitive he is to any sort of disturbance--\"it's the limit.\"\n\nOne of his idiosyncrasies is that he must have a perfectly still\naudience. He will stop in the midst of a sermon to let a single person\nwalk down the aisle. When auditors start coughing he stops preaching.\nHe never lets his crowd get for an instant out of hand. The result is\nthat there probably never were so many persons gathered together in one\nbuilding at one time in such uniform quietness.\n\nThe possibilities of panic in a massed multitude of thousands are best\nunderstood by those who have had most to do with crowds. Sunday's\nwatchfulness against this marks the shrewd American caution of the man.\nHis tabernacles, no matter whether they seat five, eight, ten, fifteen,\nor twenty thousand persons, are all built under the direction of his\nown helper, who has traveled with him for years. He knows that nothing\nwill break down, or go askew. His tabernacles are fairly panic-proof.\nThus every aisle, lengthwise and crosswise, ends in a door.\n\nSo careful is he of the emergency that might arise for a quick exit\nthat no board in the whole tabernacle is fastened with more than two\nnails; so that one could put his foot through the side of the wall if\nthere was need to get out hurriedly. Describing the building of the\nchoir platform Sunday says, with a grim shutting of his jaws: \"You\ncould run a locomotive over it and never faze it.\" His own platform,\non which he does amazing gymnastic stunts at every meeting, is made\nto withstand all shocks. About the walls of the tabernacle are fire\nextinguishers, and a squad of firemen and policemen are on duty with\nevery audience.\n\nThere is nothing about a Sunday tabernacle to suggest a cathedral.\nIt is a big turtle-back barn of raw, unfinished timber, but it has\nbeen constructed for its special purpose, and every mechanical device\nis used to assist the speaker's voice. Sunday can make twenty-five\nthousand persons hear perfectly in one of his big tabernacles. A huge\nsounding board, more useful than beautiful, hangs like an inverted\nsugar scoop over the evangelist's platform.\n\nBehind the platform is the post office, to which the names of\nconverts are sent for the city pastors every day; and here also are\nthe telephones for the use of the press. Adjoining the tabernacle\nis a nursery for babies, and an emergency hospital with a nurse in\nattendance. It seems as if no detail of efficient service has been\noverlooked by this practical westerner. So well organized is everything\nthat the collection can be taken in an audience of eight thousand\npersons within three minutes.\n\nWhile touching upon collections, this is as good a place as any to\nraise the point of Mr. Sunday's own compensation. He receives a\nfree-will offering made on the last day. The offerings taken in the\nearly weeks are to meet the expenses of the local committee. Mr. Sunday\nhas nothing to do with this. This committee also pays approximately\nhalf of the expenses of his staff of workers, and it also provides\na home for the Sunday party during their sojourn. Mr. Sunday himself\npays the balance of the expenses of his workers out of the free-will\noffering which he receives on the last day. These gifts have reached\nlarge figures--forty-four thousand dollars in the Pittsburgh campaign.\n\nThere is a quality in human nature which will not associate money with\nreligion, and while we hear nobody grumble at a city's paying thousands\nof dollars a night for a grand opera performance; yet an evangelist who\nhas sweetened up an entire city, lessened the police expense, promoted\nthe general happiness and redeemed hundreds of thousands of lives from\nopen sin to godliness, is accused of mercenariness, because those whom\nhe has served give him a lavish offering as he departs.\n\nAlthough much criticized on the subject of money, Mr. Sunday\nsteadfastly refuses to make answer to these strictures or to render an\naccounting, insisting that this is entirely a personal matter with him.\nNobody who knows him doubts his personal generosity or his sense of\nstewardship. Intimate friends say that he tithes his income.\n\nThree important departments of the Sunday organization are the choir,\nthe ushers, and the personal-work secretaries. Concerning the first\nmore will be said in a later chapter. The ushers are by no means\nornamental functionaries. They are a drilled regiment, each with his\nstation of duty and all disciplined to meet any emergency that may\narise. In addition to seating the people and taking the collection,\nthey have the difficult task of assisting the officers to keep out the\noverflow crowds who try to press into the building that has been filled\nto its legal capacity. For it is quite a normal condition in the Sunday\ncampaigns for thousands of persons to try to crowd their way into the\ntabernacle after the latter is full. Sometimes it takes foot-ball\ntactics to keep them out.\n\nWithout the assistance of the personal-work secretaries the rush\nforward when the invitation is extended would mean a frantic mob.\nThe recruits have to be formed into line and directed to the pulpit\nwhere they take Mr. Sunday's hand. Then they must be guided into the\nfront benches and the name and address and church preference of each\nsecured. While the invitation is being given personal workers all over\nthe building are busy gathering converts. The magnitude of the Sunday\nevangelistic meetings in their results is revealed by the necessity for\nsystematically handling the converts as vividly as by any other one\nfactor.\n\nThe tabernacle by no means houses all of the Sunday campaign. There\nare noon shop meetings, there are noon meetings for business women and\nluncheon meetings, there are services in the schools, in the jails,\nin the hospitals, and there are special afternoon parlor meetings\nwhere social leaders hear the same message that is given to the men of\nthe street. In a phrase, the entire community is combed by personal\nactivity in order to reach everybody with the Sunday evangelistic\ninvitation.\n\nThe personnel of the Sunday party has varied during the years. The\nfirst assistant was Fred G. Fischer, a soloist and choir leader who\ncontinued with the evangelist for eight years. At present the staff\nnumbers about a dozen workers. Among past and present helpers have been\nHomer A. Rodeheaver, the chorister; Charles Butler, the soloist; Elijah\nJ. Brown (\"Ram's Horn\" Brown); Fred. R. Seibert, an ex-cowboy and a\ngraduate of the Moody School, who is the handy man of the tabernacle;\nMiss Frances Miller, Miss Grace Saxe, Miss Anna MacLaren, Mrs. Rae\nMuirhead, Rev. L. K. Peacock, B. D. Ackley, Albert G. Gill, Joseph\nSeipe, the builder, Mrs. and Mr. Asher and Rev. I. E. Honeywell. As\nthe magnitude of the work increases this force is steadily augmented,\nso that the evangelist must not only be a prophet but a captain of\nindustry.\n\nThe Sunday Campaign clearly reveals that as Kipling's old engineer,\nMcAndrew, says,\n\n  \"Ye'll understand, a man must think o' things.\"\n\n[Illustration: BURNING WORDS OF MR. SUNDAY THAT REACH THE HEART.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\"Speech--Seasoned with Salt\"\n\n I want to preach the gospel so plainly that men can come from the\n factories and not have to bring along a dictionary.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nSunday is not a shepherd, but a soldier; not a husbandman of a\nvineyard, but a quarryman. The r\u00f4le he fills more nearly approximates\nthat of the Baptist, or one of the Old Testament prophets, than any\nother Bible character. The word of the Lord that has come to him is\nnot \"Comfort ye! comfort ye!\" but \"Arouse ye! arouse ye!\" and \"Repent!\nrepent!\"\n\nEvangelist Sunday's mission is not conventional, nor may it be judged\nby conventional standards. He is not a pastor; probably he would be\na failure in the pastorate. Neither would any sensible person expect\npastors to resemble Billy Sunday; for that, too, would be a calamity.\n\nTaking a reasonable view of the case, what do we find? Here is a man\nwhose clear work it is to attract the attention of the heedless to the\nclaims of the gospel, to awaken a somnolent Church, and to call men\nto repentance. To do this a man must be sensational, just as John the\nBaptist was sensational--not to mention that Greater One who drew the\nmultitudes by his wonderful works and by his unconventional speech.\n\nIn the time of Jesus, as now, religion had become embalmed in petrified\nphrases. The forms of religious speech were set. But Christ's talk was\nnot different from every-day speech. The language of spirituality,\nwhich once represented great living verities, had become so\nconventionalized that it slipped easily into cant and \"shop talk.\" It\nis a fact which we scarcely like to admit that myriads of persons who\nattend church regularly do not expect really to understand what the\npreacher is talking about. They admire his \"zeal\" or \"unction,\" but as\nfor understanding him as clearly and definitely as they understand a\nneighbor talking over the back fence--that is not to be thought of.\n\nWhen God called this man whom the common people should hear gladly,\nhe took him straight out of the walks of common life with no other\nvocabulary than that of ordinary \"folks.\" We Americans use the most\nvivid language of any people. Our words are alive, new ones being born\nevery hour. \"Slang\" we call these word pictures, and bar them from\npolite speech until the crowbar of custom has jimmied a way for them\ninto the dictionary. And the most productive slang factory of our time\nis the realm of sports in which Sunday was trained.\n\nSo he talks religion as he talked baseball. His words smack of the\nstreet corners, the shop, the athletic field, the crowd of men. That\nthis speech is loose, extravagant and undignified may be freely\ngranted: but it is understandable. Any kind of a fair play that will\nget the runners to the home plate is good baseball; and any speech that\nwill puncture the shell of human nature's complacency and indifference\nto religion is good preaching. Neither John the Baptist nor Jesus was\ndignified, and highly correct Pharisees despised them as vulgarians;\n\"but the common people heard him gladly.\" With such examples before him\non one side, and a Church waterlogged with dignity on the other, Sunday\nhas \"gone the limit\" in popularized speech.\n\nPerhaps he is not as polite as is professionally proper for a\npreacher. He seems to have recovered some of the prophet's lost art\nof denunciation. He dares call sin by its proper name. He excoriates\nthe hypocrite. He cares not for feelings of the unfaithful preacher\nor of the double-living church member. As for the devil and all his\nlieutenants, Sunday has for them a sizzling, blistering vocabulary\nthat helps men to loathe sin and all its advocates. His uncompromising\nattitude is shown by this gem, culled from one of his sermons:\n\n\"They say to me, 'Bill, you rub the fur the wrong way.' I don't; let\nthe cats turn 'round.\"\n\nAgain, \"It isn't a good thing to have synonyms for sin. Adultery is\nadultery, even though you call it affinity.\"\n\nAgain, \"Paul said he would rather speak five words that were understood\nthan ten thousand words in an unknown tongue. That hits me. I want\npeople to know what I mean, and that's why I try to get down where they\nlive. What do I care if some puff-eyed, dainty little dibbly-dibbly\npreacher goes tibbly-tibbling around because I use plain Anglo-Saxon\nwords.\"\n\nTwo important points are to be considered in connection with Sunday's\nvigorous vocabulary; the first is that what he says does not sound as\nbad as it seems in cold type. Often he is incorrectly reported. The\nconstant contention of his friends is that he should be heard before\nbeing criticized. The volume of testimony of all the men who have heard\nhim--preachers, professors and purists--is that his addresses which\nseem shocking when reported are not shocking when heard.\n\nOn the public square in Scranton a great sign was displayed by the\nlocal committee:\n\n  +------------------------------------+\n  |             BE FAIR!               |\n  |                                    |\n  | DON'T JUDGE BILLY SUNDAY UNTIL YOU |\n  |      HAVE HEARD HIM YOURSELF.      |\n  |                                    |\n  |  NO REPORT, VERBAL OR PRINTED, CAN |\n  |      DO HIM PERFECT JUSTICE.       |\n  +------------------------------------+\n\nOne Scranton business man put it this way: \"Type is cold; his sermons\nare hot.\"\n\nSunday speaks with his eyes, with his gestures and with every muscle\nof his body; and all this must be taken into account in weighing his\nwords. Assuredly his message in its totality does not shock anybody.\nThat is why preachers sit through his arraignment of a deficient church\nand ministry and applaud him. They find in his severest utterances a\nsubstantial volume of undoubted truth.\n\nThe second point is that the most vigorous speech is used earliest in\nan evangelistic campaign. That is one way of stirring up the Church,\nand of attracting attention to the meetings. Sunday goads Christians to\nan interest. Apparently he purposely speaks to arouse resentment, if no\nother form of interest is awakened in his hearers. The latter part of\na Sunday campaign is singularly free from his denunciations, from his\ninvective and from his slang. There is a clear method in his procedure,\nwhich is always followed in about the same course.\n\nSunday would be the last man to expect everybody to approve all that\nhe says, either in form or in substance. I don't; and I know no other\nthinking observer of his meetings who does. No more do I expect him\nto approve all that is said in this book. Nevertheless, there remains\nthe unanswerable rejoinder to all criticism of Evangelist Sunday's\nutterances and message: he \"delivers the goods.\" He does arouse\ncommunities to an interest in religion as no other preacher of our\ngeneration. He helps people \"get right with God.\" His campaigns promote\nrighteousness, diminish wickedness and strengthen the Church.\n\nAs samples of the pungent sort of speech with which Sunday's discourses\nare flavored I have selected these shakings from his salt-cellar:\n\n Live so that when the final summons comes you will leave something\n more behind you than an epitaph on a tombstone or an obituary in a\n newspaper.\n\n You can find anything in the average church today, from a humming bird\n to a turkey buzzard.\n\n The Lord is not compelled to use theologians. He can take snakes,\n sticks or anything else, and use them for the advancement of his\n cause.\n\n The Lord may have to pile a coffin on your back before he can get you\n to bend it.\n\n Don't throw your ticket away when the train goes into a tunnel. It\n will come out the other side.\n\n The safest pilot is not the fellow that wears the biggest hat, but the\n man who knows the channels.\n\n If a man goes to hell he ought to be there, or he wouldn't be there.\n\n I am preaching for the age in which I live. I am just recasting my\n vocabulary to suit the people of my age instead of Joshua's age.\n\n The Church gives the people what they need; the theater gives them\n what they want.\n\n Death-bed repentance is burning the candle of life in the service of\n the devil, and then blowing the smoke into the face of God.\n\n Your reputation is what people say about you. Your character is what\n God and your wife know about you.\n\n When your heart is breaking you don't want the dancing master or\n saloon-keeper. No, you want the preacher.\n\n Don't you know that every bad man in a community strengthens the\n devil's mortgage?\n\n Pilate washed his hands. If he had washed his old black heart he would\n have been all right.\n\n It takes a big man to see other people succeed without raising a howl.\n\n It's everybody's business how you live.\n\n Bring your repentance down to a spot-cash basis.\n\n I believe that cards and dancing are doing more to dam the spiritual\n life of the Church than the grog-shops--though you can't accuse me of\n being a friend of that stinking, dirty, rotten, hell-soaked business.\n\n If you took no more care of yourself physically than spiritually,\n you'd be just as dried up physically as you are spiritually.\n\n We place too much reliance upon preaching and upon singing, and too\n little on the living of those who sit in the pews.\n\n The carpet in front of the mirrors of some of you people is worn\n threadbare, while at the side of your bed where you should kneel in\n prayer it is as good as the day you put it down.\n\n Some persons think they have to look like a hedgehog to be pious.\n\n Look into the preaching Jesus did and you will find it was aimed\n straight at the big sinners on the front seats.\n\n If you live wrong you can't die right.\n\n \"You are weighed in the balance\"--but not by Bradstreet's or\n Dun's--you are weighed in God's balance.\n\n A revival gives the Church a little digitalis instead of an opiate.\n\n It isn't the sawdust trail that brings you to Christ, it's the Christ\n that is in the trail, the Christ that is in your public confession of\n sins.\n\n Some sermons instead of being a bugle call for service, are nothing\n more than showers of spiritual cocaine.\n\n Theology bears the same relation to Christianity that botany does to\n flowers.\n\n Morality isn't the light; it is only the polish on the candlestick.\n\n Some homes need a hickory switch a good deal more than they do a piano.\n\n Churches don't need new members half so much as they need the old\n bunch made over.\n\n God's work is too often side-tracked, while social, business and\n domestic arrangements are thundering through on the main line.\n\n A lot of people, from the way they live, make you think they've got a\n ticket to heaven on a Pullman parlor car and have ordered the porter\n to wake 'em up when they get there. But they'll get side-tracked\n almost before they've started.\n\n I believe that a long step toward public morality will have been taken\n when sins are called by their right names.\n\n The bars of the Church are so low that any old hog with two or three\n suits of clothes and a bank roll can crawl through.\n\n You will not have power until there is nothing questionable in your\n life.\n\n You can't measure manhood with a tape line around the biceps.\n\n The social life is the reflex of the home life.\n\n There are some so-called Christian homes today with books on the\n shelves of the library that have no more business there than a rattler\n crawling about on the floor, or poison within the child's reach.\n\n Home is the place we love best and grumble the most.\n\n I don't believe there are devils enough in hell to pull a boy out of\n the arms of a godly mother.\n\n To train a boy in the way he should go you must go that way yourself.\n\n The man who lives for himself alone will be the sole mourner at his\n own funeral.\n\n Don't try to cover up the cussedness of your life, but get fixed up.\n\n Wrong company soon makes everything else wrong. An angel would never\n be able to get back to heaven again if he came down here for a week\n and put in his time going with company that some church members would\n consider good.\n\n The devil often grinds the axe with which God hews.\n\n I wish the Church were as afraid of imperfection as it is of\n perfection.\n\n Whisky is all right in its place--but its place is in hell.\n\n A pup barks more than an old dog.\n\n Character needs no epitaph. You can bury the man, but character will\n beat the hearse back from the graveyard and it will travel up and\n down the streets while you are under the sod. It will bless or blight\n long after your name is forgotten.\n\n Some people pray like a jack-rabbit eating cabbage.\n\n If you put a polecat in the parlor you know which will change\n first--the polecat or the parlor?\n\n A church is not dropped down on a street corner to decorate the corner\n and be the property of a certain denomination.\n\n Many preachers are like a physician--strong on diagnosis, but weak on\n therapeutics.\n\n Your religion is in your will, not in your handkerchief.\n\n It won't save your soul if your wife is a Christian. You have got to\n be something more than a brother-in-law to the Church.\n\n If every black cloud had a cyclone in it, the world would have been\n blown into toothpicks long ago.\n\n No man has any business to be in a bad business.\n\n When you quit living like the devil I will quit preaching that way.\n\n You can't raise the standard of women's morals by raising their pay\n envelope. It lies deeper than that.\n\n The seventh commandment is not: \"Thou shalt not commit affinity.\"\n\n A saloon-keeper and a good mother don't pull on the same rope.\n\n The presumptive husband should be able to show more than the price of\n a marriage license.\n\n Put the kicking straps on the old Adam, feed the angel in you, and\n starve the devil.\n\n When a baby is born, what do you do with it? Put it in a refrigerator?\n That's a good place for a dead chicken, and cold meat, but a poor\n place for babies. Then don't put these new converts, 'babes in\n Christ,' into refrigerator churches.\n\n[Illustration: \"I'LL FIGHT TILL HELL FREEZES OVER.\"]\n\n\n Nobody can read the Bible thoughtfully, and not be impressed with the\n way it upholds the manhood of man. More chapters in the Bible are\n devoted to portraying the manhood of Caleb than to the creation of the\n world.\n\n Home is on a level with the women; the town is on a level with the\n homes.\n\n[Illustration: \"A SALOON-KEEPER AND A GOOD MOTHER DON'T PULL ON THE\nSAME ROPE\"]\n\n You will find lots of things in Shakespeare which are not fit for\n reading in a mixed audience and call that literature. When you hear\n some truths here in the tabernacle you will call it vulgar. It makes\n all the difference in the world whether Bill Shakespeare or Bill\n Sunday said it.\n\n The more oyster soup it takes to run a church, the faster it runs to\n the devil.\n\n The reason you don't like the Bible, you old sinner, is because it\n knows all about you.\n\n Bob Ingersoll wasn't the first to find out that Moses made mistakes.\n God knew about it long before Ingersoll was born.\n\n All that God has ever done to save this old world, has been done\n through men and women of flesh and blood like ourselves.\n\n Nearly everybody is stuck up about something. Some people are even\n proud that they aren't proud.\n\n The average young man is more careful of his company than the average\n girl.\n\n Going to church doesn't make a man a Christian, any more than going to\n a garage makes him an automobile.\n\n If we people were able to have panes of glass over our hearts, some of\n us would want stained glass, wouldn't we?\n\n To see some people, you would think that the essential orthodox\n Christianity is to have a face so long they could eat oatmeal out of\n the end of a gas pipe.\n\n God likes a little humor, as is evidenced by the fact that he made the\n monkey, the parrot--and some of you people.\n\n Wouldn't this city be a great place to live in if some people would\n die, get converted, or move away?\n\n The normal way to get rid of drunkards is to quit raising\n drunkards--to put the business that makes drunkards out of business.\n\n You can't shine for God on Sunday, and then be a London fog on Monday.\n\n I don't believe that God wants any man to be a hermit. Jesus Christ\n did not wear a hair shirt and sleep upon a bed of spikes. He went\n among the people and preached the Gospel.\n\n If you only believe things that you can understand you must be an\n awful ignoramus.\n\n There is more power in a mother's hand than in a king's scepter.\n\n I have no doubt that there are men looking into my face tonight who\n will have \"1914\" carved on their tombstones.\n\n If God had no more interest in this world than some of you church\n members have in Johnstown, this city would have been in hell long ago.\n\n I hate to see a man roll up to church in a limousine and then drop a\n quarter in the collection plate.\n\n Give your face to God and he will put his shine on it.\n\n No fountain under the sun can hold enough to satisfy an immortal\n spirit.\n\n Jesus Christ came among the common people. Abraham Lincoln said that\n God must have loved the common people: he made so many of them.\n\n Yank some of the groans out of your prayers, and shove in some shouts.\n\n The Bible says forgive your debtors; the world says \"sue them for\n their dough.\"\n\n The race will appear as far above us as we are above the harem when\n godly girls marry godly men.\n\n It is impossible for a saloon-keeper to enjoy a good red-hot\n prayer-meeting.\n\n I'm no spiritual masseur or osteopath. I'm a surgeon, and I cut deep.\n\n A prudent man won't swallow a potato bug, and then take Paris green to\n kill it.\n\n If you want milk and honey on your bread, you'll have to go into the\n land where there are giants.\n\n There is nothing in the world of art like the songs mother used to\n sing.\n\n God pays a good mother. Mothers, get your names on God's pay-roll.\n\n The man who can drive a hog and keep his religion will stand without\n hitching.\n\n The right preaching of the Gospel will never hurt anything good.\n\n If you would have your children turn out well, don't turn your home\n into a lunch counter and lodging house.\n\n Man was a fool in the Garden of Eden, and he has taken a good many new\n degrees since.\n\n The backslider likes the preaching that wouldn't hit the side of a\n house, while the real disciple is delighted when the truth brings him\n to his knees.\n\n There would be more power in the prayers of some folks if they would\n put more white money in the collection basket.\n\n What have you given the world it never possessed before you came?\n\n Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole. Yielding is\n opening the door and inviting him in.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nBattling with \"Booze\"\n\n The man who votes for the saloon is pulling on the same rope with the\n devil, whether he knows it or not.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nThere is a tremendous military advantage in having a definite enemy.\nThe sermons that are aimed at nothing generally hit it. Billy Sunday is\nhappiest and most successful when attacking the liquor evil. Down among\nthe masses of men he learned for himself the awful malignity of strong\ndrink, which he deems the greatest evil of our day.\n\nSo he fights it. Everybody will admit--the saloon-keeper first of\nall--that Billy Sunday is the most effective foe of the liquor business\nin America today. Small wonder the brewers spend large sums of money\nin circulating attacks upon him, and in going before him to every town\nwhere he conducts meetings, spreading slanders of many sorts.\n\nThere is a ghastly humor in the success the brewers have in enlisting\nthe preachers to make common cause with them in discrediting this\nevangelist. Shrewd men have come quite generally to the conclusion that\nthey will not give aid and comfort to the enemies of righteousness\nwhose interests are best served by criticism of Billy Sunday. All\nincidental questions aside, Sunday does the Lord's work and is on the\nLord's side. It is a pitiable spectacle to see the Lord's servants\nattacking him; though it is quite understandable why the liquor\ninterest should spend large sums of money in antagonizing Sunday. It\nwould be worth a million dollars to them any day if he could be put out\nof action.\n\nWherever Sunday goes a great temperance awakening follows. In eleven of\nfifteen Illinois towns where he campaigned \"dry\" victories were won\nat the next election. Fifteen hundred saloons were put out of business\nin a single day in Illinois, largely as the result of his work. With\ncharacteristic indifference to figures and tabulated results, Sunday\nhas kept no record of the communities which have gone \"dry\" following\nhis meetings. That consequence is common. His recent presence in\nPennsylvania is the surest token that the Keystone State will not much\nlonger be the boasted Gibraltar of the liquor interests. Even up in\nPennsylvania's coal regions, with their large foreign population, many\ncommunities are going \"dry,\" while individual saloons are being starved\nout. Within about a year of Sunday's visit there, the number of saloons\nwas reduced by more than two hundred.\n\nSo intense is Sunday's zest for temperance that he will go anywhere\npossible to deliver a blow against the saloon. He has toured Illinois\nand West Virginia in special trains, campaigning for temperance.\nDuring the Sunday campaign in Johnstown ten thousand men in a meeting\norganized themselves into a Billy Sunday Anti-Saloon League. In Iowa\nliterally scores of towns and counties are reported as having gone\ndry as a direct result of the Sunday meetings. Muscatine, Ottumwa,\nMarshalltown, Linwood and Centerville are communities in point.\nThirteen out of fifteen towns in Illinois visited by Sunday voted\nout the saloon. West Virginia's temperance leaders utilized Sunday\nin a whirlwind campaign through the state. He spoke in ten towns in\nfive days, traveling from point to point in a special car. It is now\nhistory that West Virginia went dry by ninety thousand majority. His\nlatest work in the West has been timed to precede elections where\nthe temperance question was an issue. Next to his passion for the\nconversion of men and women is this consuming antagonism to rum.\n\nMore important than his own valiant blows against the saloon is the\nfact that Sunday makes enemies for the liquor business. Practically\nall of his converts and friends become enthusiastic temperance workers.\nIn western Pennsylvania he converted practical machine politicians to\nthe old time Gospel and to the temperance cause.\n\nEvery campaign is full of incidents like that of the blacksmith, a\npart of whose business came from a large brewery. When this man became\na Sunday convert and a temperance \"fanatic,\" as they termed him, the\nbrewers' business was withdrawn. But the loyalty which Sunday infuses\ninto his followers, rallied to the man's help, and such a volume of\nChristian business was turned his way that his conversion and the loss\nof the brewery trade turned out to his profit.\n\nIn the _Outlook_ of August 8, 1914, Lewis Edwin Theiss introduces a\npowerful article, \"Industry versus Alcohol,\" with this Billy Sunday\nstory:\n\n\"We were discussing Billy Sunday and the economic effect of his work.\n\n\"'The vice-president of the C---- Iron Works told me,' said a\nmanufacturer of railway cars, 'that his company could have afforded to\npay its employees a quarter of a million dollars more than their wages\nduring the period that Billy Sunday was working among them.'\n\n'The corporation concerned is one of the great steel companies of the\ncountry. It employs thousands of men.\n\n\"'Why was that?' I asked.\n\n\"'Because of the increased efficiency of the men. They were steadier.\nAccidents decreased remarkably. They produced enough extra steel to\nmake their work worth the quarter million additional.'\n\n\"'It is interesting to find that religion has such an effect on\nevery-day life,' I observed.\n\n\"'Religion as such had little to do with it,' replied the car-maker,\n'except that it started it. The thing that made those men efficient was\ncutting out the drink. Billy Sunday got them all on the water wagon.\nThey became sober and stayed sober. They could run their machines\nwith steady hands and true eyes. The men themselves realize what a\ndifference it makes. They are strong for prohibition. If the people\nof Pittsburgh and its vicinity could vote on the temperance question\ntoday, the saloons would be wiped out there.'\n\n\"'The manufacturers are strong for prohibition, too. They never gave\nmuch thought to the matter before. But this demonstration of Billy\nSunday's has made us all strong for prohibition. We _know_ now that\nmost of our accidents are due to whisky. For years we have been trying\nto find a way to secure a high degree of efficiency among our men. We\nnever succeeded. Along comes this preacher and accomplishes more in a\nfew weeks than we have ever been able to do.\n\n\"'We know now that until booze is banished we can never have really\nefficient workmen. We're fools if we don't profit by what he has shown\nus. Take it from me, booze has got to go. We are not much interested in\nthe moral side of the matter as such. It is purely a matter of dollars\nand cents. They say corporations have no souls. From this time forth\ncorporations are going to show mighty little soul toward the man who\ndrinks.'\"\n\nA great parade of men marks the close of a Sunday campaign. In\nScranton the line of march was broken into by a brewer's wagon. The\ndriver was not content with trying to break the line of parade, but\nhe also hurled offensive epithets at Sunday and his converts. Perhaps\npassive endurance was the virtue called for on this occasion; but it\nwas certainly not the virtue practiced. For those husky mill workers\nstepped out of line for a moment, bodily overturned the brewer's wagon,\nand sent the beer kegs rolling in the street, all to the tune of the\nSunday war song, \"De Brewer's Big Horses Can't Run Over Me.\"\n\n[Illustration: De Brewer's Big Hosses.\n\n(SOLO AND CHORUS.)\n\n  H. S. Taylor.\n  J. B. Herbert.\n]\n\nThis song, written by H. S. Taylor, is the most popular one in the\nSunday campaign. It is by no means a hymn of worship, but rather a\nbattle-cry. When thousands of men lift their voices in this militant\nrefrain, with whistles blowing and bells ringing in the chorus,\nthe effect is fairly thrilling. Words and music are beneath the\nconsideration of the scholarly musician; but they strike the common\nmind of the American who wants a battle hymn.\n\n\nDE BREWER'S BIG HOSSES.[A]\n\n    Oh, de Brewer's big hosses, comin' down de road,\n    Totin' all around ole Lucifer's load;\n    Dey step so high, an' dey step so free,\n    But dem big hosses can't run over me.\n\n    CHORUS.\n\n          Oh, no! boys, oh, no!\n          De turnpike's free wherebber I go,\n          I'm a temperance ingine, don't you see,\n          And de Brewer's big hosses can't run over me.\n\n    Oh, de licker men's actin' like dey own dis place,\n    Livin' on de sweat ob de po' man's face,\n    Dey's fat and sassy as dey can be,\n    But dem big hosses can't run over me.--CHO.\n\n    Oh, I'll harness dem hosses to de temp'rance cart,\n    Hit 'em wid a gad to gib 'em a start,\n    I'll teach 'em how for to haw and gee,\n    For dem big hosses can't run over me.--CHO.\n\nSunday is the Peter the Hermit of the temperance crusade. He inflames\nmen's passions for this righteous war. Most critics call his sermon\non \"booze\" his greatest achievement. He treats the theme from all\nangles--economic, social, human, and religious. When he puts a row of\nboys up on the platform and offers them as one day's contribution to\nthe saloon's grist of manhood which must be maintained, the result is\nelectric; all the militant manhood of the men before him is urged to\naction.\n\n[A] Reproduced by permission. Copyright, 1887, by Fillmore Bros. Homer\nA. Rodeheaver owner. International copyright secured.\n\nTHE FAMOUS \"BOOZE\" SERMON\n\nHere we have one of the strangest scenes in all the Gospels. Two men,\npossessed of devils, confront Jesus, and while the devils are crying\nout for Jesus to leave them, he commands the devils to come out, and\nthe devils obey the command of Jesus. The devils ask permission to\nenter into a herd of swine feeding on the hillside. This is the only\nrecord we have of Jesus ever granting the petition of devils, and he\ndid it for the salvation of men.\n\nThen the fellows that kept the hogs went back to town and told the\npeanut-brained, weasel-eyed, hog-jowled, beetle-browed, bull-necked\nlobsters that owned the hogs, that \"a long-haired fanatic from\nNazareth, named Jesus, has driven the devils out of some men and the\ndevils have gone into the hogs, and the hogs into the sea, and the sea\ninto the hogs, and the whole bunch is dead.\"\n\nAnd then the fat, fussy old fellows came out to see Jesus and said that\nhe was hurting their business. A fellow says to me, \"I don't think\nJesus Christ did a nice thing.\"\n\nYou don't know what you are talking about.\n\nDown in Nashville, Tennessee, I saw four wagons going down the street,\nand they were loaded with stills, and kettles, and pipes.\n\n\"What's this?\" I said.\n\n\"United States revenue officers, and they have been in the moonshine\ndistrict and confiscated the illicit stills, and they are taking them\ndown to the government scrap heap.\"\n\nJesus Christ was God's revenue officer. Now the Jews were forbidden to\neat pork, but Jesus Christ came and found that crowd buying and selling\nand dealing in pork, and confiscated the whole business, and he kept\nwithin the limits of the law when he did it. Then the fellows ran back\nto those who owned the hogs to tell what had befallen them and those\nhog-owners said to Jesus: \"Take your helpers and hike. You are hurting\nour business.\" And they looked into the sea and the hogs were bottom\nside up, but Jesus said, \"What is the matter?\"\n\nAnd they answered, \"Leave our hogs and go.\" A fellow says it is rather\na strange request for the devils to make, to ask permission to enter\ninto hogs. I don't know--if I was a devil I would rather live in a\ngood, decent hog than in lots of men. If you will drive the hog out you\nwon't have to carry slop to him, so I will try to help you get rid of\nthe hog.\n\nAnd they told Jesus to leave the country. They said: \"You are hurting\nour business.\"\n\n\nInterest in Manhood\n\n\"Have you no interest in manhood?\"\n\n\"We have no interest in that; just take your disciples and leave, for\nyou are hurting our business.\"\n\nThat is the attitude of the liquor traffic toward the Church, and\nState, and Government, and the preacher that has the backbone to fight\nthe most damnable, corrupt institution that ever wriggled out of hell\nand fastened itself on the public.\n\nI am a temperance Republican down to my toes. Who is the man that\nfights the whisky business in the South? It is the Democrats! They have\ndriven the business from Kansas, they have driven it from Georgia, and\nMaine and Mississippi and North Carolina and North Dakota and Oklahoma\nand Tennessee and West Virginia. And they have driven it out of 1,756\ncounties. And it is the rock-ribbed Democratic South that is fighting\nthe saloon. They started this fight that is sweeping like fire over\nthe United States. You might as well try and dam Niagara Falls with\ntoothpicks as to stop the reform wave sweeping our land. The Democratic\nparty of Florida has put a temperance plank in its platform and the\nRepublican party of every state would nail that plank in their platform\nif they thought it would carry the election. It is simply a matter\nof decency and manhood, irrespective of politics. It is prosperity\nagainst poverty, sobriety against drunkenness, honesty against\nthieving, heaven against hell. Don't you want to see men sober? Brutal,\nstaggering men transformed into respectable citizens? \"No,\" said a\nsaloon-keeper, \"to hell with men. We are interested in our business, we\nhave no interest in humanity.\"\n\nAfter all is said that can be said upon the liquor traffic, its\ninfluence is degrading upon the individual, the family, politics and\nbusiness, and upon everything that you touch in this old world. For\nthe time has long gone by when there is any ground for arguments as\nto its ill effects. All are agreed on that point. There is just one\nprime reason why the saloon has not been knocked into hell, and that is\nthe false statement that \"the saloons are needed to help lighten the\ntaxes.\" The saloon business has never paid, and it has cost fifty times\nmore than the revenue derived from it.\n\n\nDoes the Saloon Help Business?\n\nI challenge you to show me where the saloon has ever helped business,\neducation, church, morals or anything we hold dear.\n\nThe wholesale and retail trade in Iowa pays every year at least\n$500,000 in licenses. Then if there were no draw-back it ought to\nreduce the taxation twenty-five cents per capita. If the saloon is\nnecessary to pay the taxes, and if they pay $500,000 in taxes, it ought\nto reduce them twenty-five cents a head. But no, the whisky business\nhas increased taxes $1,000,000 instead of reducing them, and I defy any\nwhisky man on God's dirt to show me one town that has the saloon where\nthe taxes are lower than where they do not have the saloon. I defy you\nto show me an instance.\n\nListen! Seventy-five per cent of our idiots come from intemperate\nparents; eighty per cent of the paupers, eighty-two per cent of the\ncrime is committed by men under the influence of liquor; ninety per\ncent of the adult criminals are whisky-made. The Chicago _Tribune_ kept\ntrack for ten years and found that 53,556 murders were committed by men\nunder the influence of liquor.\n\nArchbishop Ireland, the famous Roman Catholic, of St. Paul, said of\nsocial crime today, that \"seventy-five per cent is caused by drink, and\neighty per cent of the poverty.\"\n\nI go to a family and it is broken up, and I say, \"What caused this?\"\nDrink! I step up to a young man on the scaffold and say, \"What brought\nyou here?\" Drink! Whence all the misery and sorrow and corruption?\nInvariably it is drink.\n\nFive Points, in New York, was a spot as near like hell as any spot on\nearth. There are five streets that run to this point, and right in the\nmiddle was an old brewery and the streets on either side were lined\nwith grog shops. The newspapers turned a searchlight on the district,\nand the first thing they had to do was to buy the old brewery and turn\nit into a mission.\n\n\nThe Parent of Crimes\n\nThe saloon is the sum of all villanies. It is worse than war or\npestilence. It is the crime of crimes. It is the parent of crimes and\nthe mother of sins. It is the appalling source of misery and crime\nin the land. And to license such an incarnate fiend of hell is the\ndirtiest, low-down, damnable business on top of this old earth. There\nis nothing to be compared to it.\n\nThe legislature of Illinois appropriated $6,000,000 in 1908 to take\ncare of the insane people in the state, and the whisky business\nproduces seventy-five per cent of the insane. That is what you go down\nin your pockets for to help support. Do away with the saloons and you\nwill close these institutions. The saloons make them necessary, and\nthey make the poverty and fill the jails and the penitentiaries. Who\nhas to pay the bills? The landlord who doesn't get the rent because the\nmoney goes for whisky; the butcher and the grocer and the charitable\nperson who takes pity on the children of drunkards, and the taxpayer\nwho supports the insane asylums and other institutions, that the whisky\nbusiness keeps full of human wrecks.\n\nDo away with the cursed business and you will not have to put up to\nsupport them. Who gets the money? The saloon-keepers and the brewers,\nand the distillers, while the whisky fills the land with misery, and\npoverty, and wretchedness, and disease, and death, and damnation, and\nit is being authorized by the will of the sovereign people.\n\nYou say that \"people will drink anyway.\" Not by my vote. You say, \"Men\nwill murder their wives anyway.\" Not by my vote. \"They will steal\nanyway.\" Not by my vote. You are the sovereign people, and what are you\ngoing to do about it?\n\nLet me assemble before your minds the bodies of the drunken dead,\nwho crawl away \"into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell,\" and\nthen out of the valley of the shadow of the drink let me call the\nappertaining motherhood, and wifehood, and childhood, and let their\ntears rain down upon their purple faces. Do you think that would stop\nthe curse of the liquor traffic? No! No!\n\nIn these days when the question of saloon or no saloon is at the\nfore in almost every community, one hears a good deal about what is\ncalled \"personal liberty.\" These are fine, large, mouth-filling words,\nand they certainly do sound first rate; but when you get right down\nand analyze them in the light of common old horse-sense, you will\ndiscover that in their application to the present controversy they\nmean just about this: \"Personal liberty\" is for the man who, if he\nhas the inclination and the price, can stand up at a bar and fill his\nhide so full of red liquor that he is transformed for the time being\ninto an irresponsible, dangerous, evil-smelling brute. But \"personal\nliberty\" is not for his patient, long-suffering wife, who has to\nendure with what fortitude she may his blows and curses; nor is it\nfor his children, who, if they escape his insane rage, are yet robbed\nof every known joy and privilege of childhood, and too often grow up\nneglected, uncared for and vicious as the result of their surroundings\nand the example before them. \"Personal liberty\" is not for the sober,\nindustrious citizen who from the proceeds of honest toil and orderly\nliving, has to pay, willingly or not, the tax bills which pile up as a\ndirect result of drunkenness, disorder and poverty, the items of which\nare written in the records of every police court and poor-house in the\nland; nor is \"personal liberty\" for the good woman who goes abroad\nin the town only at the risk of being shot down by some drink-crazed\ncreature. This rant about \"personal liberty\" as an argument has no leg\nto stand upon.\n\n\nThe Economic Side\n\nNow, in 1913 the corn crop was 2,373,000,000 bushels, and it was\nvalued at $1,660,000,000. Secretary Wilson says that the breweries\nuse less than two per cent; I will say that they use two per cent.\nThat would make 47,000,000 bushels, and at seventy cents a bushel that\nwould be about $33,000,000. How many people are there in the United\nStates? Ninety millions. Very well, then, that is thirty-six cents per\ncapita. Then we sold out to the whisky business for thirty-six cents\napiece--the price of a dozen eggs or a pound of butter. We are the\ncheapest gang this side of hell if we will do that kind of business.\n\nNow listen! Last year the income of the United States government,\nand the cities and towns and counties, from the whisky business was\n$350,000,000. That is putting it liberally. You say that's a lot of\nmoney. Well, last year the workingmen spent $2,000,000,000 for drink,\nand it cost $1,200,000,000 to care for the judicial machinery. In other\nwords, the whisky business cost us last year $3,400,000,000. I will\nsubtract from that the dirty $350,000,000 which we got, and it leaves\n$3,050,000,000 in favor of knocking the whisky business out on purely a\nmoney basis. And listen! We spend $6,000,000,000 a year for our paupers\nand criminals, insane, orphans, feeble-minded, etc., and eighty-two per\ncent of our criminals are whisky-made, and seventy-five per cent of the\npaupers are whisky-made. The average factory hand earns $450 a year,\nand it costs us $1,200 a year to support each of our whisky criminals.\nThere are 326,000 enrolled criminals in the United States and 80,000\nin jails and penitentiaries. Three-fourths were sent there because of\ndrink, and then they have the audacity to say the saloon is needed for\nmoney revenue. Never was there a baser lie.\n\n\"But,\" says the whisky fellow, \"we would lose trade; the farmer would\nnot come to town to trade.\" You lie. I am a farmer. I was born and\nraised on a farm and I have the malodors of the barnyard on me today.\nYes, sir. And when you say that you insult the best class of men on\nGod's dirt. Say, when you put up the howl that if you don't have the\nsaloons the farmer won't trade--say, Mr. Whisky Man, why do you dump\nmoney into politics and back the legislatures into the corner and fight\nto the last ditch to prevent the enactment of county local option? You\nknow if the farmers were given a chance they would knock the whisky\nbusiness into hell the first throw out of the box. You are afraid. You\nhave cold feet on the proposition. You are afraid to give the farmer a\nchance. They are scared to death of you farmers.\n\nI heard my friend ex-Governor Hanly, of Indiana, use the following\nillustrations:\n\n\"Oh, but,\" they say, \"Governor, there is another danger to the local\noption, because it means a loss of market to the farmer. We are\nconsumers of large quantities of grain in the manufacture of our\nproducts. If you drive us out of business you strike down that market\nand it will create a money panic in this country, such as you have\nnever seen, if you do that.\" I might answer it by saying that less\nthan two per cent of the grain produced in this country is used for\nthat purpose, but I pass that by. I want to debate the merit of the\nstatement itself, and I think I can demonstrate in ten minutes to any\nthoughtful man, to any farmer, that the brewer who furnishes him a\nmarket for a bushel of corn is not his benefactor, or the benefactor of\nany man, from an economic standpoint. Let us see. A farmer brings to\nthe brewer a bushel of corn. He finds a market for it. He gets fifty\ncents and goes his way, with the statement of the brewer ringing in\nhis ears, that the brewer is the benefactor. But you haven't got all\nthe factors in the problem, Mr. Brewer, and you cannot get a correct\nsolution of a problem without all the factors in the problem. You take\nthe farmer's bushel of corn, brewer or distiller, and you brew and\ndistill from it four and one-half gallons of spirits. I don't know\nhow much he dilutes them before he puts them on the market. Only the\nbrewer, the distiller and God know. The man who drinks it doesn't, but\nif he doesn't dilute it at all, he puts on the market four and a half\ngallons of intoxicating liquor, thirty-six pints. I am not going to\ntrace the thirty-six pints. It will take too long. But I want to trace\nthree of them and I will give you no imaginary stories plucked from the\nbrain of an excited orator. I will take instances from the judicial\npages of the Supreme Court and the Circuit Court judges' reports in\nIndiana and in Illinois to make my case.\n\n\nTragedies Born of Drink\n\nSeveral years ago in the city of Chicago a young man of good parents,\ngood character, one Sunday crossed the street and entered a saloon,\nopen against the law. He found there boon companions. There were\nlaughter, song and jest and much drinking. After awhile, drunk,\ninsanely drunk, his money gone, he was kicked into the street. He found\nhis way across to his mother's home. He importuned her for money to buy\nmore drink. She refused him. He seized from the sideboard a revolver\nand ran out into the street and with the expressed determination of\nentering the saloon and getting more drink, money or no money. His fond\nmother followed him into the street. She put her hand upon him in a\nloving restraint. He struck it from him in anger, and then his sister\ncame and added her entreaty in vain. And then a neighbor, whom he knew,\ntrusted and respected, came and put his hand on him in gentleness and\nfriendly kindness, but in an insanity of drunken rage he raised the\nrevolver and shot his friend dead in his blood upon the street. There\nwas a trial; he was found guilty of murder. He was sentenced to life\nimprisonment, and when the little mother heard the verdict--a frail\nlittle bit of a woman--she threw up her hands and fell in a swoon. In\nthree hours she was dead.\n\nIn the streets of Freeport, Illinois, a young man of good family became\ninvolved in a controversy with a lewd woman of the town. He went in\na drunken frenzy to his father's home, armed himself with a deadly\nweapon and set out for the city in search of the woman with whom he\nhad quarreled. The first person he met upon the public square in the\ncity, in the daylight, in a place where she had a right to be, was one\nof the most refined and cultured women of Freeport. She carried in her\narms her babe--motherhood and babyhood, upon the streets of Freeport\nin the day time, where they had a right to be--but this young man in\nhis drunken insanity mistook her for the woman he sought and shot her\ndead upon the streets with her babe in her arms. He was tried and Judge\nFerand, in sentencing him to life imprisonment said: \"You are the\nseventh man in two years to be sentenced for murder while intoxicated.\"\n\nIn the city of Anderson, you remember the tragedy in the Blake home.\nA young man came home intoxicated, demanding money of his mother.\nShe refused it. He seized from the wood box a hatchet and killed his\nmother and then robbed her. You remember he fled. The officer of the\nlaw pursued him and brought him back. An indictment was read to him\ncharging him with the murder of the mother who had given him his birth,\nof her who had gone down into the valley of the shadow of death to give\nhim life, of her who had looked down into his blue eyes and thanked\nGod for his life. And he said, \"I am guilty; I did it all.\" And Judge\nMcClure sentenced him to life imprisonment.\n\nNow I have followed probably three of the thirty-six pints of the\nfarmer's product of a bushel of corn and the three of them have struck\ndown seven lives, the three boys who committed the murders, the three\npersons who were killed and the little mother who died of a broken\nheart. And now, I want to know, my farmer friend, if this has been a\ngood commercial transaction for you? You sold a bushel of corn; you\nfound a market; you got fifty cents; but a fraction of this product\nstruck down seven lives, all of whom would have been consumers of your\nproducts for their life expectancy. And do you mean to say that is a\ngood economic transaction to you? That disposes of the market question\nuntil it is answered; let no man argue further.\n\n\nMore Economics\n\nAnd say, my friends, New York City's annual drink bill is $365,000,000\na year, $1,000,000 a day. Listen a minute. That is four times the\nannual output of gold, and six times the value of all the silver mined\nin the United States. And in New York there is one saloon for every\nthirty families. The money spent in New York by the working people for\ndrink in ten years would buy every working man in New York a beautiful\nhome, allowing $3,500 for house and lot. It would take fifty persons\none year to count the money in $1 bills, and they would cover 10,000\nacres of ground. That is what the people in New York dump into the\nwhisky hole in one year. And then you wonder why there is poverty and\ncrime, and that the country is not more prosperous.\n\nThe whisky gang is circulating a circular about Kansas City, Kansas. I\ndefy you to prove a statement in it. Kansas City is a town of 100,000\npopulation, and temperance went into effect July 1, 1905. Then they\nhad 250 saloons, 200 gambling hells and 60 houses of ill fame. The\npopulation was largely foreign, and inquiries have come from Germany,\nSweden and Norway, asking the influence of the enforcement of the\nprohibitory law.\n\nAt the end of one year the president of one of the largest banks\nin that city, a man who protested against the enforcement of the\nprohibitory law on the ground that it would hurt business, found that\nhis bank deposits had increased $1,700,000, and seventy-two per cent\nof the deposits were from men who had never saved a cent before,\nand forty-two per cent came from men who never had a dollar in the\nbank, but because the saloons were driven out they had a chance to\nsave, and the people who objected on the grounds that it would injure\nbusiness found an increase of 209 per cent in building operations;\nand, furthermore, there were three times as many more people seeking\ninvestment, and court expenses decreased $25,000 in one year.\n\nWho pays to feed and keep the gang you have in jail? Why, you go down\nin your sock and pay for what the saloon has dumped in there. They\ndon't do it. Mr. Whisky Man, why don't you go down and take a picture\nof wrecked and blighted homes, and of insane asylums, with gibbering\nidiots. Why don't you take a picture of that?\n\nAt Kansas City, Kansas, before the saloons were closed, they were\ngetting ready to build an addition to the jail. Now the doors swing\nidly on the hinges and there is nobody to lock in the jails. And the\ncommissioner of the Poor Farm says there is a wonderful falling off\nof old men and women coming to the Poor House, because their sons and\ndaughters are saving their money and have quit spending it for drink.\nAnd they had to employ eighteen new school teachers for 600 boys and\ngirls, between the ages of twelve and eighteen, that had never gone to\nschool before because they had to help a drunken father support the\nfamily. And they have just set aside $200,000 to build a new school\nhouse, and the bonded indebtedness was reduced $245,000 in one year\nwithout the saloon revenue. And don't you know another thing: In 1906,\nwhen they had the saloon, the population, according to the directory,\nwas 89,655. According to the census of 1907 the population was 100,835,\nor an increase of twelve per cent in one year, without the grog-shop.\nIn two years the bank deposits increased $3,930,000.\n\nYou say, drive out the saloon and you kill business--Ha! ha! \"Blessed\nare the dead that die in the Lord.\"\n\nI tell you, gentlemen, the American home is the dearest heritage of\nthe people, for the people, and by the people, and when a man can\ngo from home in the morning with the kisses of wife and children\non his lips, and come back at night with an empty dinner bucket to\na happy home, that man is a better man, whether white or black.\nWhatever takes away the comforts of home--whatever degrades that man\nor woman--whatever invades the sanctity of the home, is the deadliest\nfoe to the home, to church, to state and school, and the saloon is the\ndeadliest foe to the home, the church and the state, on top of God\nAlmighty's dirt. And if all the combined forces of hell should assemble\nin conclave, and with them all the men on earth that hate and despise\nGod, and purity, and virtue--if all the scum of the earth could mingle\nwith the denizens of hell to try to think of the deadliest institution\nto home, to church and state, I tell you, sir, the combined hellish\nintelligence could not conceive of or bring an institution that could\ntouch the hem of the garment of the open licensed saloon to damn the\nhome and manhood, and womanhood, and business and every other good\nthing on God's earth.\n\nIn the Island of Jamaica the rats increased so that they destroyed\nthe crops, and they introduced a mongoose, which is a species of the\ncoon. They have three breeding seasons a year and there are twelve to\nfifteen in each brood, and they are deadly enemies of the rats. The\nresult was that the rats disappeared and there was nothing more for the\nmongoose to feed upon, so they attacked the snakes, and the frogs, and\nthe lizards that fed upon the insects, with the result that the insects\nincreased and they stripped the gardens, eating up the onions and the\nlettuce and then the mongoose attacked the sheep and the cats, and the\npuppies, and the calves and the geese. Now Jamaica is spending hundreds\nof thousands of dollars to get rid of the mongoose.\n\n\nThe American Mongoose\n\nThe American mongoose is the open licensed saloon. It eats the carpets\noff the floor and the clothes from off your back, your money out\nof the bank, and it eats up character, and it goes on until at last\nit leaves a stranded wreck in the home, a skeleton of what was once\nbrightness and happiness.\n\nThere were some men playing cards on a railroad train, and one fellow\npulled out a whisky flask and passed it about, and when it came to\nthe drummer he said, \"No.\" \"What,\" they said, \"have you got on the\nwater wagon?\" and they all laughed at him. He said, \"You can laugh if\nyou want to, but I was born with an appetite for drink, and for years\nI have taken from five to ten glasses per day, but I was at home in\nChicago not long ago and I have a friend who has a pawn shop there. I\nwas in there when in came a young fellow with ashen cheeks and a wild\nlook on his face. He came up trembling, threw down a little package and\nsaid, 'Give me ten cents.' And what do you think was in that package?\nIt was a pair of baby shoes.\n\n\"My friend said, 'No, I cannot take them.'\n\n\"'But,' he said, 'give me a dime. I must have a drink.'\n\n\"'No, take them back home, your baby will need them.'\n\n\"And the poor fellow said, 'My baby is dead, and I want a drink.'\"\n\nBoys, I don't blame you for the lump that comes up in your throat.\nThere is no law, divine or human, that the saloon respects. Lincoln\nsaid, \"If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong.\" I say, if the\nsaloon, with its train of diseases, crime and misery, is not wrong,\nthen nothing on earth is wrong. If the fight is to be won we need\nmen--men that will fight--the Church, Catholic and Protestant, must\nfight it or run away, and thank God she will not run away, but fight to\nthe last ditch.\n\nWho works the hardest for his money, the saloon man or you?\n\nWho has the most money Sunday morning, the saloon man or you?\n\nThe saloon comes as near being a rat hole for a wage-earner to dump his\nwages in as anything you can find. The only interest it pays is red\neyes and foul breath, and the loss of health. You can go in with money\nand you come out with empty pockets. You go in with character and you\ncome out ruined. You go in with a good position and you lose it. You\nlose your position in the bank, or in the cab of the locomotive. And it\npays nothing back but disease and damnation and gives an extra dividend\nin delirium tremens and a free pass to hell. And then it will let your\nwife be buried in the potter's field, and your children go to the\nasylum, and yet you walk out and say the saloon is a good institution,\nwhen it is the dirtiest thing on earth. It hasn't one leg to stand on\nand has nothing to commend it to a decent man, not one thing.\n\n\"But,\" you say, \"we will regulate it by high license.\" Regulate what\nby high license? You might as well try and regulate a powder mill in\nhell. Do you want to pay taxes in boys, or dirty money? A man that\nwill sell out to that dirty business I have no use for. See how absurd\ntheir arguments are. If you drink Bourbon in a saloon that pays $1,000\na year license, will it eat your stomach less than if you drink it in a\nsaloon that pays $500 license? Is it going to have any different effect\non you, whether the gang pays $500 or $1,000 license? No. It will make\nno difference whether you drink it over a mahogany counter or a pine\ncounter--it will have the same effect on you; it will damn you. So\nthere is no use talking about it.\n\nIn some insane asylums, do you know what they do? When they want to\ntest some patient to see whether he has recovered his reason, they\nhave a room with a faucet in it, and a cement floor, and they give the\npatient a mop and tell him to mop up the floor. And if he has sense\nenough to turn off the faucet and mop up the floor they will parole\nhim, but should he let the faucet run, they know that he is crazy.\n\nWell, that is what you are trying to do. You are trying to mop it\nup with taxes and insane asylums and jails and Keeley cures, and\nreformatories. The only thing to do is to shut off the source of supply.\n\nA man was delivering a temperance address at a fair grounds and a\nfellow came up to him and said: \"Are you the fellow that gave a talk on\ntemperance?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, I think that the managers did a dirty piece of business to let\nyou give a lecture on temperance. You have hurt my business and my\nbusiness is a legal one.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"SHOULD HE LET THE FAUCET RUN, THEY KNOW THAT HE IS\nCRAZY\"]\n\n\"You are right there,\" said the lecturer, \"they did do a mean trick;\nI would complain to the officers.\" And he took up a premium list and\nsaid: \"By the way, I see there is a premium of so much offered for the\nbest horse and cow and butter. What business are you in?\"\n\n\"I'm in the liquor business.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't see that they offer any premium for your business. You\nought to go down and compel them to offer a premium for your business\nand they ought to offer on the list $25 for the best wrecked home, $15\nfor the best bloated bum that you can show, and $10 for the finest\nspecimen of broken-hearted wife, and they ought to give $25 for the\nfinest specimens of thieves and gamblers you can trot out. You can\nbring out the finest looking criminals. If you have something that is\ngood trot it out. You ought to come in competition with the farmer,\nwith his stock, and the fancy work, and the canned fruit.\"\n\n\nThe Saloon a Coward\n\nAs Dr. Howard said: \"I tell you that the saloon is a coward. It hides\nitself behind stained-glass doors and opaque windows, and sneaks\nits customers in at a blind door, and it keeps a sentinel to guard\nthe door from the officers of the law, and it marks its wares with\nfalse bills-of-lading, and offers to ship green goods to you and marks\nthem with the name of wholesome articles of food so people won't know\nwhat is being sent to you. And so vile did that business get that the\nlegislature of Indiana passed a law forbidding a saloon to ship goods\nwithout being properly labeled. And the United States Congress passed a\nlaw forbidding them to send whisky through the mails.\n\n[Illustration: \"I'LL FIGHT TO THE LAST DITCH, THIS HELLISH TRAFFIC.\"]\n\nI tell you it strikes in the night. It fights under cover of darkness\nand assassinates the characters that it cannot damn, and it lies about\nyou. It attacks defenseless womanhood and childhood. The saloon is a\ncoward. It is a thief; it is not an ordinary court offender that steals\nyour money, but it robs you of manhood and leaves you in rags and\ntakes away your friends, and it robs your family. It impoverishes your\nchildren and it brings insanity and suicide. It will take the shirt off\nyour back and it will steal the coffin from a dead child and yank the\nlast crust of bread out of the hand of the starving child; it will take\nthe last bucket of coal out of your cellar, and the last cent out of\nyour pocket, and will send you home bleary-eyed and staggering to your\nwife and children. It will steal the milk from the breast of the mother\nand leave her with nothing with which to feed her infant. It will take\nthe virtue from your daughter. It is the dirtiest, most low-down,\ndamnable business that ever crawled out of the pit of hell. It is a\nsneak, and a thief and a coward.\n\nIt is an infidel. It has no faith in God; has no religion. It would\nclose every church in the land. It would hang its beer signs on the\nabandoned altars. It would close every public school. It respects the\nthief and it esteems the blasphemer; it fills the prisons and the\npenitentiaries. It despises heaven, hates love, scorns virtue. It\ntempts the passions. Its music is the song of a siren. Its sermons\nare a collection of lewd, vile stories. It wraps a mantle about the\nhope of this world and that to come. Its tables are full of the vilest\nliterature. It is the moral clearing house for rot, and damnation, and\npoverty, and insanity, and it wrecks homes and blights lives today.\n\n\nGod's Worst Enemy\n\nThe saloon is a liar. It promises good cheer and sends sorrow. It\npromises health and causes disease. It promises prosperity and sends\nadversity. It promises happiness and sends misery. Yes, it sends the\nhusband home with a lie on his lips to his wife; and the boy home with\na lie on his lips to his mother; and it causes the employee to lie to\nhis employer. It degrades. It is God's worst enemy and the devil's best\nfriend. It spares neither youth nor old age. It is waiting with a dirty\nblanket for the baby to crawl into the world. It lies in wait for the\nunborn.\n\nIt cocks the highwayman's pistol. It puts the rope in the hands of\nthe mob. It is the anarchist of the world and its dirty red flag is\ndyed with the blood of women and children. It sent the bullet through\nthe body of Lincoln; it nerved the arm that sent the bullets through\nGarfield and William McKinley. Yes, it is a murderer. Every plot that\nwas ever hatched against the government and law, was born and bred, and\ncrawled out of the grog-shop to damn this country.\n\nI tell you that the curse of God Almighty is on the saloon.\nLegislatures are legislating against it. Decent society is barring it\nout. The fraternal brotherhoods are knocking it out. The Masons and Odd\nFellows, and the Knights of Pythias and the A. O. U. W. are closing\ntheir doors to the whisky sellers. They don't want you wriggling your\ncarcass in their lodges. Yes, sir, I tell you, the curse of God is on\nit. It is on the down grade. It is headed for hell, and, by the grace\nof God, I am going to give it a push, with a whoop, for all I know how.\nListen to me! I am going to show you how we burn up our money. It costs\ntwenty cents to make a gallon of whisky; sold over the counter at ten\ncents a glass, it will bring four dollars.\n\n\"But,\" said the saloon-keeper, \"Bill, you must figure on the strychnine\nand the cochineal, and other stuff they put in it, and it will bring\nnearer eight dollars.\"\n\nYes; it increases the heart beat thirty times more in a minute, when\nyou consider the licorice and potash and log-wood and other poisons\nthat are put in. I believe one cause for the unprecedented increase of\ncrime is due to the poison put in the stuff nowadays to make it go as\nfar as they can.\n\nI am indebted to my friend, George B. Stuart, for some of the following\npoints:\n\nI will show you how your money is burned up. It costs twenty cents\nto make a gallon of whisky, sold over the counter at ten cents a\nglass, which brings four dollars. Listen, where does it go? Who gets\nthe twenty cents? The farmer for his corn or rye. Who gets the rest?\nThe United States government for collecting revenue, and the big\ncorporations, and part is used to pave our streets and pay our police.\nI'll show you. I'm going to show you how it is burned up, and you don't\nneed half sense to catch on, and if you don't understand just keep\nstill and nobody will know the difference.\n\nI say, \"Hey, Colonel Politics, what is the matter with the country?\"\n\nHe swells up like a poisoned pup and says to me, \"Bill, why the silver\nbugbear. That's what is the matter with the country.\"\n\nThe total value of the silver produced in this country in 1912 was\n$39,000,000. Hear me! In 1912 the total value of the gold produced in\nthis country was $93,000,000, and we dumped thirty-six times that much\nin the whisky hole and didn't fill it. What is the matter? The total\nvalue of all the gold and silver produced in 1912 was $132,000,000, and\nwe dumped twenty-five times that amount in the whisky hole and didn't\nfill it.\n\nWhat is the matter with the country, Colonel Politics? He swells up and\nsays, \"Mr. Sunday, Standpatism, sir.\"\n\nI say, \"You are an old windbag.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" says another, \"revision of the tariff.\" Another man says, \"Free\ntrade; open the doors at the ports and let them pour the products in\nand we will put the trusts on the sidetrack.\"\n\nSay, you come with me to every port of entry. Listen! In 1912 the total\nvalue of all the imports was $1,812,000,000, and we dumped that much in\nthe whisky hole in twelve months and did not fill it.\n\n\"Oh,\" says a man, \"let us court South America and Europe to sell our\nproducts. That's what is the matter; we are not exporting enough.\"\n\nLast year the total value of all the exports was $2,362,000,000, and we\ndumped that amount in the whisky hole in one year and didn't fill it.\n\nOne time I was down in Washington and went to the United States\ntreasury and said: \"I wish you would let me go where you don't let the\ngeneral public.\" And they took us around on the inside and we walked\ninto a room about twenty feet long and fifteen feet wide and as many\nfeet high, and I said, \"What is this?\"\n\n\"This is the vault that contains all of the national bank stock in the\nUnited States.\"\n\nI said, \"How much is here?\"\n\nThey said, \"$578,000,000.\"\n\nAnd we dumped nearly four times the value of the national bank stock\nin the United States into the whisky hole last year, and we didn't\nfill the hole up at that. What is the matter? Say, whenever the day\ncomes that all the Catholic and Protestant churches--just when the day\ncomes when you will say to the whisky business: \"You go to hell,\" that\nday the whisky business will go to hell. But you sit there, you old\nwhisky-voting elder and deacon and vestryman, and you wouldn't strike\nyour hands together on the proposition. It would stamp you an old\nhypocrite and you know it.\n\nSay, hold on a bit. Have you got a silver dollar? I am going to show\nyou how it is burned up. We have in this country 250,000 saloons, and\nallowing fifty feet frontage for each saloon it makes a street from New\nYork to Chicago, and 5,000,000 men, women and children go daily into\nthe saloon for drink. And marching twenty miles a day it would take\nthirty days to pass this building, and marching five abreast they would\nreach 590 miles. There they go; look at them!\n\nOn the first day of January, 500,000 of the young men of our nation\nentered the grog-shop and began a public career hellward, and on the\n31st of December I will come back here and summon you people, and ring\nthe bell and raise the curtain and say to the saloon and breweries: \"On\nthe first day of January, I gave you 500,000 of the brain and muscle of\nour land, and I want them back and have come in the name of the home\nand church and school; father mother, sister, sweetheart; give me back\nwhat I gave you. March out.\"\n\nI count, and 165,000 have lost their appetites and have become\nmuttering, bleary-eyed drunkards, wallowing in their own excrement, and\nI say, \"What is it I hear, a funeral dirge?\" What is that procession?\nA funeral procession 3,000 miles long and 110,000 hearses in the\nprocession. One hundred and ten thousand men die drunkards in the land\nof the free and home of the brave. Listen! In an hour twelve men die\ndrunkards, 300 a day and 110,000 a year. One man will leap in front\nof a train, another will plunge from the dock into a lake, another\nwill throw his hands to his head and life will end. Another will cry,\n\"Mother,\" and his life will go out like a burnt match.\n\nI stand in front of the jails and count the whisky criminals. They say,\n\"Yes, Bill, I fired the bullet.\" \"Yes, I backed my wife into the corner\nand beat her life out. I am waiting for the scaffold; I am waiting.\"\n\"I am waiting,\" says another, \"to slip into hell.\" On, on, it goes.\nSay, let me summon the wifehood, and the motherhood, and the childhood\nand see the tears rain down the upturned faces. People, tears are too\nweak for that hellish business. Tears are only salty backwater that\nwell up at the bidding of an occult power, and I will tell you there\nare 865,000 whisky orphan children in the United States, enough in the\nworld to belt the globe three times around, punctured at every fifth\npoint by a drunkard's widow.\n\nLike Hamilcar of old, who swore young Hannibal to eternal enmity\nagainst Rome, so I propose to perpetuate this feud against the liquor\ntraffic until the white-winged dove of temperance builds her nest on\nthe dome of the Capitol of Washington and spreads her wings of peace,\nsobriety and joy over our land which I love with all my heart.\n\n\nWhat Will a Dollar Buy?\n\nI hold a silver dollar in my hand. Come on, we are going to a saloon.\nWe will go into a saloon and spend that dollar for a quart. It takes\ntwenty cents to make a gallon of whisky and a dollar will buy a quart.\nYou say to the saloon-keeper, \"Give me a quart.\" I will show you,\nif you wait a minute, how she is burned up. Here I am John, an old\ndrunken bum, with a wife and six kids. (Thank God, it's all a lie.)\nCome on, I will go down to a saloon and throw down my dollar. It\ncosts twenty cents to make a gallon of whisky. A nickel will make a\nquart. My dollar will buy a quart of booze. Who gets the nickel? The\nfarmer, for corn and apples. Who gets the ninety-five cents? The United\nStates government, the big distillers, the big corporations. I am\nJohn, a drunken bum, and I will spend my dollar. I have worked a week\nand got my pay. I go into a grog-shop and throw down my dollar. The\nsaloon-keeper gets my dollar and I get a quart of booze. Come home with\nme. I stagger, and reel, and spew in my wife's presence, and she says:\n\n\"Hello, John, what did you bring home?\"\n\n\"A quart.\"\n\nWhat will a quart do? It will burn up my happiness and my home and\nfill my home with squalor and want. So there is the dollar. The\nsaloon-keeper has it. Here is my quart. There you get the whisky end\nof it. Here you get the workingman's end of the saloon.\n\nBut come on; I will go to a store and spend the dollar for a pair of\nshoes. I want them for my son, and he puts them on his feet, and with\nthe shoes to protect his feet he goes out and earns another dollar, and\nmy dollar becomes a silver thread in the woof and warp of happiness\nand joy, and the man that owns the building gets some, and the clerk\nthat sold the shoes gets some, and the merchant, and the traveling man,\nand the wholesale house gets some, and the factory, and the man that\nmade the shoes, and the man that tanned the hide, and the butcher that\nbought the calf, and the little colored fellow that shined the shoes,\nand my dollar spread itself and nobody is made worse for spending the\nmoney.\n\nI join the Booster Club for business and prosperity. A man said,\n\"I will tell you what is the matter with the country: it's\nover-production.\" You lie, it is underconsumption.\n\nSay, wife, the bread that ought to be in your stomach to satisfy the\ncravings of hunger is down yonder in the grocery store, and your\nhusband hasn't money enough to carry it home. The meat that ought to\nsatisfy your hunger hangs in the butcher shop. Your husband hasn't any\nmoney to buy it. The cloth for a dress is lying on the shelf in the\nstore, but your husband hasn't the money to buy it. The whisky gang has\nhis money.\n\nWhat is the matter with our country? I would like to do this. I would\nlike to see every booze-fighter get on the water wagon. I would like to\nsummon all the drunkards in America and say: \"Boys, let's cut her out\nand spend the money for flour, meat and calico; what do you say?\" Say!\n$500,000,000 will buy all the flour in the United States; $500,000,000\nwill buy all the beef cattle, and $500,000,000 will buy all the cotton\nat $50 a bale. But we dumped more money than that in the whisky hole\nlast year, and we didn't fill it. Come on; I'm going to line up the\ndrunkards. Everybody fall in. Come on, ready, forward, march. Right,\nleft, here I come with all the drunkards. We will line up in front of a\nbutcher shop. The butcher says, \"What do you want, a piece of neck?\"\n\n\"No; how much do I owe you?\" \"Three dollars.\" \"Here's your dough. Now\ngive me a porterhouse steak and a sirloin roast.\"\n\n\"Where did you get all that money?\"\n\n\"Went to hear Bill and climbed on the water wagon.\"\n\n\"Hello! What do you want?\"\n\n\"Beefsteak.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Beefsteak.\"\n\nWe empty the shop and the butcher runs to the telephone. \"Hey, Central,\ngive me the slaughter house. Have you got any beef, any pork, any\nmutton?\"\n\nThey strip the slaughter house, and then telephone to Swift, and\nArmour, and Nelson Morris, and Cudahy, to send down trainloads of\nbeefsteaks.\n\n\"The whole bunch has got on the water wagon.\"\n\nAnd Swift and the other big packers in Chicago say to their salesmen:\n\"Buy beef, pork and mutton.\"\n\nThe farmer sees the price of cattle and sheep jump up to three times\ntheir value. Let me take the money you dump into the whisky hole and\nbuy beefsteaks with it. I will show what is the matter with America. I\nthink the liquor business is the dirtiest, rottenest business this side\nof hell.\n\nCome on, are you ready? Fall in! We line up in front of a grocery store.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Why, I want flour.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Flour.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Flour.\"\n\n\"Pillsbury, Minneapolis, 'Sleepy Eye'?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"BILLY\" AND \"MA\" SUNDAY.]\n\n\"Yes, ship in trainloads of flour; send on fast mail schedule, with an\nengine in front, one behind and a Mogul in the middle.\"\n\n\"What's the matter?\"\n\n\"Why, the workingmen have stopped spending their money for booze and\nhave begun to buy flour.\"\n\nThe big mills tell their men to buy wheat and the farmers see the price\njump to over $2 per bushel. What's the matter with the country? Why,\nthe whisky gang has your money and you have an empty stomach, and yet\nyou will walk up and vote for the dirty booze.\n\nCome on, cut out the booze, boys. Get on the water wagon; get on for\nthe sake of your wife and babies, and hit the booze a blow.\n\nCome on, ready, forward, march! Right, left, halt! We are in front of a\ndry goods store.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Calico.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Calico.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Calico.\"\n\n\"Calico; all right, come on.\" The stores are stripped.\n\nMarshall Field, Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co., J. V. Farrell, send down\ncalico. The whole bunch has voted out the saloons and we have such\na demand for calico we don't know what to do. And the big stores\ntelegraph to Fall River to ship calico, and the factories telegraph to\nbuy cotton, and they tell their salesmen to buy cotton, and the cotton\nplantation man sees cotton jump up to $150 a bale.\n\nWhat is the matter? Your children are going naked and the whisky gang\nhas got your money. That's what's the matter with you. Don't listen to\nthose old whisky-soaked politicians who say \"stand pat on the saloon.\"\n\nCome with me. Now, remember, we have the whole bunch of booze fighters\non the water wagon, and I'm going home now. Over there I was John, the\ndrunken bum. The whisky gang got my dollar and I got the quart. Over\nhere I am John on the water wagon. The merchant got my dollar and I\nhave his meat, flour and calico, and I'm going home now. \"Be it ever so\nhumble, there's no place like home without booze.\"\n\nWife comes out and says, \"Hello, John, what have you got?\"\n\n\"Two porterhouse steaks, Sally.\"\n\n\"What's that bundle, Pa?\"\n\n\"Clothes to make you a new dress, Sis. Your mother has fixed your old\none so often, it looks like a crazy quilt.\"\n\n\"And what have you there?\"\n\n\"That's a pair of shoes for you, Tom; and here is some cloth to make\nyou a pair of pants. Your mother has patched the old ones so often,\nthey look like the map of United States.\"\n\nWhat's the matter with the country? We have been dumping into the\nwhisky hole the money that ought to have been spent for flour, beef and\ncalico, and we haven't the hole filled up yet.\n\nA man comes along and says: \"Are you a drunkard?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm a drunkard.\"\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"I am going to hell.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because the Good Book says: 'No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of\nGod,' so I am going to hell.\"\n\nAnother man comes along and I say: \"Are you a church member?\"\n\n\"Yes, I am a church member.\"\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"I am going to heaven.\"\n\n\"Did you vote for the saloon?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then you shall go to hell.\"\n\nSay, if the man that drinks the whisky goes to hell, the man that votes\nfor the saloon that sold the whisky to him will go to hell. If the man\nthat drinks the whisky goes to hell, and the man that sold the whisky\nto the men that drank it, goes to heaven, then the poor drunkard will\nhave the right to stand on the brink of eternal damnation and put his\narms around the pillar of justice, shake his fist in the face of the\nAlmighty and say, \"Unjust! Unjust!\" If you vote for the dirty business\nyou ought to go to hell as sure as you live, and I would like to fire\nthe furnace while you are there.\n\nSome fellow says, \"Drive the saloon out and the buildings will be\nempty.\" Which would you rather have, empty buildings or empty jails,\npenitentiaries and insane asylums? You drink the stuff and what have\nyou to say? You that vote for it, and you that sell it? Look at them\npainted on the canvas of your recollection.\n\n\nThe Gin Mill\n\nWhat is the matter with this grand old country? I heard my friend,\nGeorge Stuart, tell how he imagined that he walked up to a mill and\nsaid:\n\n\"Hello, there, what kind of a mill are you?\"\n\n\"A sawmill.\"\n\n\"And what do you make?\"\n\n\"We make boards out of logs.\"\n\n\"Is the finished product worth more than the raw material?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"We will make laws for you. We must have lumber for houses.\"\n\nHe goes up to another mill and says:\n\n\"Hey, what kind of a mill are you?\"\n\n\"A grist mill.\"\n\n\"What do you make?\"\n\n\"Flour and meal out of wheat and corn.\"\n\n\"Is the finished product worth more than the raw material?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then come on. We will make laws for you. We will protect you.\"\n\nHe goes up to another mill and says:\n\n\"What kind of a mill are you?\"\n\n\"A paper mill.\"\n\n\"What do you make paper out of?\"\n\n\"Straw and rags.\"\n\n\"Well, we will make laws for you. We must have paper on which to write\nnotes and mortgages.\"\n\nHe goes up to another mill and says:\n\n\"Hey, what kind of a mill are you?\"\n\n\"A gin mill.\"\n\n\"I don't like the looks nor the smell of you. A gin mill; what do you\nmake? What kind of a mill are you?\"\n\n\"A gin mill.\"\n\n\"What is your raw material?\"\n\n\"The boys of America.\"\n\nThe gin mills of this country must have 2,000,000 boys or shut up shop.\nSay, walk down your streets, count the homes and every fifth home has\nto furnish a boy for a drunkard. Have you furnished yours? No. Then I\nhave to furnish two to make up.\n\n\"What is your raw material?\"\n\n\"American boys.\"\n\n\"Then I will pick up the boys and give them to you.\"\n\nA man says, \"Hold on, not that boy, he is mine.\"\n\nThen I will say to you what a saloon-keeper said to me when I\nprotested, \"I am not interested in boys; to hell with your boys.\"\n\n\"Say, saloon gin mill, what is your finished product?\"\n\n\"Bleary-eyed, low-down, staggering men and the scum of God's dirt.\"\n\nGo to the jails, go to the insane asylums and the penitentiaries, and\nthe homes for feeble-minded. There you will find the finished product\nfor their dirty business. I tell you it is the worst business this side\nof hell, and you know it.\n\nListen! Here is an extract from the _Saturday Evening Post_ of November\n9, 1907, taken from a paper read by a brewer. You will say that a man\ndidn't say it: \"It appears from these facts that the success of our\nbusiness lies in the creation of appetite among the boys. Men who have\nformed the habit scarcely ever reform, but they, like others, will die,\nand unless there are recruits made to take their places, our coffers\nwill be empty, and I recommend to you that money spent in the creation\nof appetite will return in dollars to your tills after the habit is\nformed.\"\n\nWhat is your raw material, saloons? American boys. Say, I would not\ngive one boy for all the distilleries and saloons this side of hell.\nAnd they have to have 2,000,000 boys every generation. And then you\ntell me you are a man when you will vote for an institution like that.\nWhat do you want to do, pay taxes in money or in boys?\n\nI feel like an old fellow in Tennessee who made his living by catching\nrattlesnakes. He caught one with fourteen rattles and put it in a box\nwith a glass top. One day when he was sawing wood his little five-year\nold boy, Jim, took the lid off and the rattler wriggled out and struck\nhim in the cheek. He ran to his father and said, \"The rattler has bit\nme.\" The father ran and chopped the rattler to pieces, and with his\njackknife he cut a chunk from the boy's cheek and then sucked and\nsucked at the wound to draw out the poison. He looked at little Jim,\nwatched the pupils of his eyes dilate and watched him swell to three\ntimes his normal size, watched his lips become parched and cracked, and\neyes roll, and little Jim gasped and died.\n\nThe father took him in his arms, carried him over by the side of the\nrattler, got on his knees and said, \"O God, I would not give little Jim\nfor all the rattlers that ever crawled over the Blue Ridge mountains.\"\n\nAnd I would not give one boy for every dirty dollar you get from the\nhell-soaked liquor business or from every brewery and distillery this\nside of hell.\n\nIn a Northwest city a preacher sat at his breakfast table one Sunday\nmorning. The doorbell rang; he answered it; and there stood a little\nboy, twelve years of age. He was on crutches, right leg off at the\nknee, shivering, and he said, \"Please, sir, will you come up to the\njail and talk and pray with papa? He murdered mamma. Papa was good and\nkind, but whisky did it, and I have to support my three little sisters.\nI sell newspapers and black boots. Will you go up and talk and pray\nwith papa? And will you come home and be with us when they bring him\nback? The governor says we can have his body after they hang him.\"\n\nThe preacher hurried to the jail and talked and prayed with the man. He\nhad no knowledge of what he had done. He said, \"I don't blame the law,\nbut it breaks my heart to think that my children must be left in a cold\nand heartless world. Oh, sir, whisky did it.\"\n\nThe preacher was at the little hut when up drove the undertaker's wagon\nand they carried out the pine coffin. They led the little boy up to\nthe coffin, he leaned over and kissed his father and sobbed, and said\nto his sister, \"Come on, sister, kiss papa's cheeks before they grow\ncold.\" And the little hungry, ragged, whisky orphans hurried to the\ncoffin, shrieking in agony. Police, whose hearts were adamant, buried\ntheir faces in their hands and rushed from the house, and the preacher\nfell on his knees and lifted his clenched fist and tear-stained face\nand took an oath before God, and before the whisky orphans, that he\nwould fight the cursed business until the undertaker carried him out in\na coffin.\n\n\nA Chance for Manhood\n\nYou men have a chance to show your manhood. Then in the name of your\npure mother, in the name of your manhood, in the name of your wife and\nthe poor innocent children that climb up on your lap and put their arms\naround your neck, in the name of all that is good and noble, fight\nthe curse. Shall you men, who hold in your hands the ballot, and in\nthat ballot hold the destiny of womanhood and childhood and manhood,\nshall you, the sovereign power, refuse to rally in the name of the\ndefenseless men and women and native land? No.\n\nI want every man to say, \"God, you can count on me to protect my wife,\nmy home, my mother and my children and the manhood of America.\"\n\nBy the mercy of God, which has given to you the unshaken and unshakable\nconfidence of her you love, I beseech you, make a fight for the women\nwho wait until the saloons spew out their husbands and their sons,\nand send them home maudlin, brutish, devilish, stinking, blear-eyed,\nbloated-faced drunkards.\n\nYou say you can't prohibit men from drinking. Why, if Jesus Christ were\nhere today some of you would keep on in sin just the same. But the law\ncan be enforced against whisky just the same as it can be enforced\nagainst anything else, if you have honest officials to enforce it. Of\ncourse it doesn't prohibit. There isn't a law on the books of the state\nthat prohibits. We have laws against murder. Do they prohibit? We have\nlaws against burglary. Do they prohibit? We have laws against arson,\nrape, but they do not prohibit. Would you introduce a bill to repeal\nall the laws that do not prohibit? Any law will prohibit to a certain\nextent if honest officials enforce it. But no law will absolutely\nprohibit. We can make a law against liquor prohibit as much as any law\nprohibits.\n\nOr would you introduce a bill saying, if you pay $1,000 a year you can\nkill any one you don't like; or by paying $500 a year you can attack\nany girl you want to; or by paying $100 a year you can steal anything\nthat suits you? That's what you do with the dirtiest, rottenest gang\nthis side of hell. You say for so much a year you can have a license\nto make staggering, reeling, drunken sots, murderers and thieves and\nvagabonds. You say, \"Bill, you're too hard on the whisky.\" I don't\nagree. Not on your life. There was a fellow going along the pike and\na farmer's dog ran snapping at him. He tried to drive it back with a\npitchfork he carried, and failing to do so he pinned it to the ground\nwith the prongs. Out came the farmer: \"Hey, why don't you use the other\nend of that fork?\" He answered, \"Why didn't the dog come at me with the\nother end?\"\n\n\nPersonal Liberty\n\nPersonal liberty is not personal license. I dare not exercise personal\nliberty if it infringes on the liberty of others. Our forefathers did\nnot fight and die for personal license but for personal liberty bounded\nby laws. Personal liberty is the liberty of a murderer, a burglar, a\nseducer, or a wolf that wants to remain in a sheep fold, or the weasel\nin a hen roost. You have no right to vote for an institution that is\ngoing to drag your sons and daughters to hell.\n\nIf you were the only persons in this city you would have a perfect\nright to drive your horse down the street at breakneck speed; you would\nhave a right to make a race track out of the streets for your auto; you\ncould build a slaughter house in the public square; you could build a\nglue factory in the public square. But when the population increases\nfrom one to 600,000 you can't do it. You say, \"Why can't I run my auto?\nI own it. Why can't I run my horse? I own it. Why can't I build the\nslaughter house? I own the lot.\" Yes, but there are 600,000 people here\nnow and other people have rights.\n\nSo law stands between you and personal liberty, you miserable dog.\nYou can't build a slaughter house in your front yard, because the law\nsays you can't. As long as I am standing here on this platform I have\npersonal liberty. I can swing my arms at will. But the minute any one\nelse steps on the platform my personal liberty ceases. It stops just\none inch from the other fellow's nose.\n\nWhen you come staggering home, cussing right and left and spewing\nand spitting, your wife suffers, your children suffer. Don't think\nthat you are the only one that suffers. A man that goes to the\npenitentiary makes his wife and children suffer just as much as he\ndoes. You're placing a shame on your wife and children. If you're a\ndirty, low-down, filthy, drunken, whisky-soaked bum you'll affect all\nwith whom you come in contact. If you're a God-fearing man you will\ninfluence all with whom you come in contact. You can't live by yourself.\n\nI occasionally hear a man say, \"It's nobody's business how I\nlive.\" Then I say he is the most dirty, low-down, whisky-soaked,\nbeer-guzzling, bull-necked, foul-mouthed hypocrite that ever had a\nbrain rotten enough to conceive such a statement and lips vile enough\nto utter it. You say, \"If I am satisfied with my life why do you want\nto interfere with my business?\"\n\nIf I heard a man beating his wife and heard her shrieks and the\nchildren's cries and my wife would tell me to go and see what was\nthe matter, and I went in and found a great, big, broad-shouldered,\nwhisky-soaked, hog-jowled, weasel-eyed brute dragging a little woman\naround by the hair, and two children in the corner unconscious from his\nkicks and the others yelling in abject terror, and he said, \"What are\nyou coming in to interfere with my personal liberty for? Isn't this my\nwife, didn't I pay for the license to wed her?\" You ought, or you're a\nbigamist. \"Aren't these my children; didn't I pay the doctor to bring\nthem into the world?\" You ought to, or you're a thief. \"If I want to\nbeat them, what is that your business, aren't they mine?\" Would I\napologize? Never! I'd knock seven kinds of pork out of that old hog.\n\n\nThe Moderate Drinker\n\nI remember when I was secretary of the Y. M. C. A. in Chicago, I had\nthe saloon route. I had to go around and give tickets inviting men to\ncome to the Y. M. C. A. services. And one day I was told to count the\nmen going into a certain saloon. Not the ones already in, but just\nthose going in. In sixty-two minutes I could count just 1,004 men going\nin there. I went in then and met a fellow who used to be my side-kicker\nout in Iowa, and he threw down a mint julep while I stood there, and I\nasked him what he was doing.\n\n\"Oh, just come down to the theater,\" he said, \"and came over for a\ndrink between acts.\"\n\n\"Why, you are three sheets in the wind now,\" I said, and then an old\ndrunken bum, with a little threadbare coat, a straw hat, no vest, pants\ntorn, toes sticking out through his torn shoes, and several weeks'\ngrowth of beard on his face, came in and said to the bartender: \"For\nGod's sake, can't you give an old bum a drink of whisky to warm up on?\"\nand the bartender poured him out a big glass and he gulped it down. He\npulled his hat down and slouched out.\n\nI said to my friend, \"George, do you see that old drunken bum, down\nand out? There was a time when he was just like you. No drunkard ever\nintended to be a drunkard. Every drunkard intended to be a moderate\ndrinker.\"\n\n\"Oh, you're unduly excited over my welfare,\" he said. \"I never expect\nto get that far.\"\n\n\"Neither did that bum,\" I answered. I was standing on another corner\nless than eight months afterward and I saw a bum coming along with head\ndown, his eyes bloodshot, his face bloated, and he panhandled me for a\nflapjack before I recognized him. It was George. He had lost his job\nand was on the toboggan slide hitting it for hell. I say if sin weren't\nso deceitful it wouldn't be so attractive. Every added drink makes it\nharder.\n\nSome just live for booze. Some say, \"I need it. It keeps me warm in\nwinter.\" Another says, \"It keeps me cool in summer.\" Well, if it keeps\nyou warm in winter and cool in summer, why is it that out of those\nwho freeze to death and are sun-struck the greater part of them are\nbooze-hoisters? Every one takes it for the alcohol there is in it. Take\nthat out and you would as soon drink dish water.\n\nI can buy a can of good beef extract and dip the point of my knife\nin the can and get more nourishment on the point of that knife than\nin 800 gallons of the best beer. If the brewers of this land today\nwere making their beer in Germany, ninety per cent of them would be\nin jail. The extract on the point of the knife represents one and\nthree-quarter pounds of good beefsteak. Just think, you have to make a\nswill barrel out of your bellies and a sewer if you want to get that\nmuch nourishment out of beer and run 800 gallons through. Oh, go ahead,\nif you want to, but I'll try to help you just the same.\n\nEvery man has blood corpuscles and their object is to take the\nimpurities out of your system. Perspiration is for the same thing.\nEvery time you work or I preach the impurities come out. Every time\nyou sweat there is a destroying power going on inside. The blood goes\nthrough the heart every seventeen seconds. Oh, we have a marvelous\nsystem. In some spots there are 4,000 pores to the square inch and\na grain of sand will cover 150 of them. I can strip you and cover\nyou with shellac and you'll be dead in forty-eight hours. Oh, we are\nfearfully and wonderfully made.\n\n\nWhat Booze Does to the System\n\nAlcohol knocks the blood corpuscles out of business so that it takes\neight to ten to do what one ought to do. There's a man who drinks.\nHere's a fellow who drives a beer wagon. Look how pussy he is. He's\nfull of rotten tissue. He says he's healthy. Smell his breath. You\npunch your finger in that healthy flesh he talks about and the dent\nwill be there a half an hour afterwards. You look like you don't\nbelieve it. Try it when you go to bed tonight. Pneumonia has a first\nmortgage on a booze-hoister.\n\nTake a fellow with good, healthy muscles, and you punch them and\nthey bound out like a rubber band. The first thing about a crushed\nstrawberry stomach is a crushed strawberry nose. Nature lets the public\non the outside know what is going on inside. If I could just take the\nstomach of a moderate drinker and turn it wrong side out for you, it\nwould be all the temperance lecture you would need. You know what\nalcohol does to the white of an egg. It will cook it in a few minutes.\nWell, alcohol does the same thing to the nerves as to the white of an\negg. That's why some men can't walk. They stagger because their nerves\nare partly paralyzed.\n\nThe liver is the largest organ of the body. It takes all of the blood\nin the body and purifies it and takes out the poisons and passes them\non to the gall and from there they go to the intestines and act as oil\ndoes on machinery. When a man drinks the liver becomes covered with hob\nnails, and then refuses to do the work, and the poisons stay in the\nblood. Then the victim begins to turn yellow. He has the jaundice. The\nkidneys take what is left and purify that. The booze that a man drinks\nturns them hard.\n\nThat's what booze is doing for you. Isn't it time you went red hot\nafter the enemy? I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to put a carpet\non your floor, pull the pillows out of the window, give you and your\nchildren and wife good clothes. I'm trying to get you to save your\nmoney instead of buying a machine for the saloon-keeper while you have\nto foot it.\n\nBy the grace of God I have strength enough to pass the open saloon, but\nsome of you can't, so I owe it to you to help you.\n\nI've stood for more sneers and scoffs and insults and had my life\nthreatened from one end of the land to the other by this God-forsaken\ngang of thugs and cutthroats because I have come out uncompromisingly\nagainst them. I've taken more dirty, vile insults from this low-down\nbunch than from any one on earth, but there is no one that will reach\ndown lower, or reach higher up or wider, to help you out of the pits of\ndrunkenness than I.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\"Give Attendance to Reading\"\n\n There are some so-called Christian homes today with books on the\n shelves of the library that have no more business there than a\n rattler crawling about on the floor, or poison within the child's\n reach.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\n\"I never heard Billy Sunday use an ungrammatical sentence,\" remarked\none observer. \"He uses a great deal of slang, and many colloquialisms,\nbut not a single error in grammar could I detect. Some of his passages\nare really beautiful English.\"\n\nSunday has made diligent effort to supplement his lack of education.\nHe received the equivalent of a high-school training in boyhood, which\nis far more than Lincoln ever had. Nevertheless he has not had the\ntraining of the average educated man, much less of a normal minister\nof the gospel. He is conscious of his limitations: and has diligently\nendeavored to make up for them. When coaching the Northwestern\nUniversity baseball team in the winter of '87 and '88 he attended\nclasses at the University. He has read a great deal and to this day\ncontinues his studies. Of course his acquaintance with literature is\nsuperficial: but his use of it shows how earnestly he has read up on\nhistory and literature and the sciences. He makes better use of his\nknowledge of the physical sciences, and of historical allusions, than\nmost men drilled in them for years. He displays a proneness for what he\nhimself would call \"high-brow stuff,\" and his disproportionate display\nof his \"book learning\" reveals his conscious effort to supply what does\nnot come to him naturally.\n\nSunday has an eclectic mind. He knows a good thing when he sees it. He\nis quick to incorporate into his discourses happenings or illustrations\nwherever found. Moody also was accustomed to do this: he circulated\namong his friends interleaved Bibles to secure keen comments on\nScripture passages. All preachers draw on the storehouses of the past:\nthe Church Fathers speak every Sunday in the pulpits of Christendom.\nNobody originates all that he says. \"We are the heirs of all the ages.\"\n\nAt the opening of every one of his campaigns Sunday repeatedly\nannounces that he has drawn his sermon material from wherever he could\nfind it, and that he makes no claim to originality. So the qualified\ncritic can detect, in addition to some sermon outlines which were\nbequests from Dr. Chapman, epigrams from Sam Jones, flashes from\nTalmage, passages from George Stuart, paragraphs from the religious\npress, apothegms from the great commentators. It is no news to say\nthat Sunday's material is not all original; he avows this himself.\nIn his gleanings he has had help from various associates. Elijah P.\nBrown's hand can be traced in his sermons: the creator of the \"Ram's\nHorn\" proverbs surely is responsible for Sunday's penchant for throwing\nstones at the devil.\n\nSunday is not an original thinker. He has founded no school of\nScriptural interpretation. He has not given any new exposition of Bible\npassages, nor has he developed any fresh lines of thought. Nobody hears\nanything new from him. In every one of his audience there are probably\nmany persons who have a more scholarly acquaintance with the Bible and\nwith Christian literature.\n\nTemperamentally a conservative, Sunday has taken the truth taught him\nby his earliest teachers and has adapted and paraphrased and modernized\nit. In the crucible of his intense personality this truth has become\nSundayized. His discourses may have a variety of origin, but they all\nsound like Billy Sunday when he delivers them.\n\nA toilsome, painstaking worker, he has made elaborate notes of all his\nsermons, and these he takes with him in leather-bound black books to\nthe platform and follows more or less closely as he speaks. No other\nman than himself could use these rough notes. Often he interjects into\none sermon parts of another. He has about a hundred discourses at his\ncommand at present, and his supply is constantly growing.\n\nThe early copies of Sunday's sermons were taken down more or less\ncorrectly in shorthand, and these have been reproduced in every city\nwhere he has gone: consequently they lack the tang and flavor of his\npresent deliverances.\n\nHe is alert to glean from all sources. In conversation one morning\nin Scranton I told him how on the previous day a lawyer friend had\ncharacterized a preacher with whom I had been talking by saying,\n\"How much like a preacher he looks, and how little like a man.\" That\nafternoon Sunday used this in his sermon and twiddled it under his\nfingers for a minute or two, paraphrasing it in characteristic Sunday\nfashion. Doubtless it is now part of his permanent oratorical stock in\ntrade.\n\nThe absolute unconventionality of the man makes all this possible. He\nis not afraid of the most shocking presentation of truth. Thus when\nspeaking at the University of Pennsylvania, he alluded to a professor\nwho had criticized the doctrine of hell, saying, \"That man will not be\nin hell five minutes before he knows better.\" Of course that thrust\ncaught the students. A more discreet and diplomatic person than Sunday\nwould not have dared to say this.\n\nThe gospel preached by Sunday is the same that the Church has been\nteaching for hundreds of years. He knows no modifications. He is\nfiercely antagonistic to \"modern\" scholarship. He sits in God's\njudgment seat in almost every sermon and frequently sends men to hell\nby name.\n\nAll this may be deplorable, but it is Sunday. The Bible which he uses\nis an interpreted and annotated edition by one of the most conservative\nof Bible teachers: this suits Sunday, for he is not of the temperament\nto be hospitable to new truths that may break forth from the living\nword.\n\nThis state of mind leads him to be extravagant and intolerant in his\nstatements. His hearers are patient with all of this because the body\nof his teachings is that held by all evangelical Christians. If he\nwere less cock-sure he would not be Billy Sunday; the great mass of\nmankind want a religion of authority.\n\nAfter all, truth is intolerant.\n\nAlthough lacking technical literary training Sunday is not only a\nmaster of living English and of terse, strong, vivid and gripping\nphrase, but he is also capable of extraordinary flights of eloquence,\nwhen he uses the chastest and most appropriate language. He has held\nmultitudes spell-bound with such passages as these:\n\n\nGod's Token of Love\n\n\"Down in Jacksonville, Florida, a man, Judge Owen, quarreled with\nhis betrothed and to try to forget, he went off and worked in a\nyellow-fever hospital. Finally he caught the disease and had succumbed\nto it. He had passed the critical stage of the disease, but he was\ndying. One day his sweetheart met the physician on the street and asked\nabout the judge. 'He's sick,' he told her.\n\n\"'How bad?' she asked.\n\n\"'Well, he's passed the critical stage, but he is dying,' the doctor\ntold her.\n\n\"'But I don't understand,' she said, 'if he's passed the critical stage\nwhy isn't he getting well?'\n\n\"'He's dying, of undying love for you, not the fever,' the doctor told\nher. She asked him to come with her to a florist and he went and there\nshe purchased some smilax and intertwined lilacs and wrote on a card,\n'With my love,' and signed her given name.\n\n\"The doctor went back to the hospital and his patient was tossing in\nfitful slumber. He laid the flowers on his breast and he awoke and\nsaw the flowers and buried his head in them. 'Thanks for the flowers,\ndoctor,' he said, but the doctor said, 'They are not from me.'\n\n\"'Then who are they from?'\n\n\"'Guess!'\n\n\"'I can't; tell me.'\n\n\"'I think you'll find the name on the card,' the doctor told him, and\nhe looked and read the card, 'With my love.'\n\n\"'Tell me,' he cried, 'did she write that of her free will or did you\nbeg her to do it?' The doctor told him she had begged to do it herself.\n\n\"Then you ought to have seen him. The next day he was sitting up. The\nnext day he ate some gruel. The next day he was in a chair. The next\nday he could hobble on crutches. The next day he threw one of them\naway. The next day he threw the cane away and the next day he could\nwalk pretty well. On the ninth day there was a quiet wedding in the\nannex of the hospital. You laugh; but listen: This old world is like\na hospital. Here are the wards for the libertines. Here are the wards\nfor the drunkards. Here are the wards for the blasphemers. Everywhere I\nlook I see scarred humanity.\n\n\"Nineteen hundred years ago God looked over the battlements of heaven\nand he picked a basket of flowers, and then one day he dropped a baby\ninto the manger at Bethlehem. 'For God so loved the world that he gave\nhis only begotten Son that whosoever believeth on him should not perish\nbut have everlasting life.' What more can he do?\n\n\"But God didn't spare him. They crucified him, but he burst the bonds\nof death and the Holy Spirit came down. They banished John to the isle\nof Patmos and there he wrote the words: 'Behold, I stand at the door\nand knock; if any man hear my voice and open the door I shall come in\nto him and sup with him and he with me.'\"\n\n\nThe Sinking Ship\n\n\"Years ago there was a ship on the Atlantic and a storm arose. The ship\nsprung a leak and in spite of all the men could do they could not pump\nout the water fast enough. The captain called the men to him and told\nthem that he had taken observations and bearings and said unless the\nleak was stopped in ten hours the boat would be at the bottom of the\nsea. 'I want a man who will volunteer his life to stay the intake.\nIt's in the second hold and about the size of a man's arm and some one\ncan place his arm in the hole and it will hold back the water until we\ncan get it pumped out enough.'\n\n\"Not a man stirred. They said they would go back to the pumps and they\ndid. They worked hard and when a man dropped they would drag him away\nand revive him and bring him back. The captain called them again and\ntold them it was no use unless it was changed. They would be at the\nbottom before ten hours unless some one volunteered and in less time\nthan that if a storm arose. Then one stepped back. 'What! My boy!'\n\n\"'Yes, father, I'll go.'\n\n\"He sent some endearing words to his mother, took one last look at\nthe sky and kissed his father and bade the sailors good-bye, and went\nbelow. He found the leak and placed his arm in it and packed rags\naround it and the men went back to the pumps. When day broke they saw\nthe body floating and swaying in the water, but the arm was still in\nthe hole. And the vessel sailed into port safe. There on the coast\ntoday stands a monument to perpetuate the deed.\n\n\"Nineteen hundred years ago this old world sprung a leak. God asked for\nvolunteers to stop it, and all of the angels and seraphim stood back,\nNoah, Abraham, Elijah, Isaiah, David, Jeremiah, Solomon, none would\ngo, and then forth stepped his Son and said: 'Father, I'll go,' and\ndescended, and died on the cross; but\n\n    \"'Up from the grave he arose,\n    With a mighty triumph o'er his foes.\n    He arose a victor from the dark domain\n    And he lives forever with his saints to reign.\n    Hallelujah, Christ arose!'\n\nHe burst the bonds of death, and the gates of heaven, while the angels\nsang and would crown him yet. 'Let me stand between God and the\npeople,' and there he stands today, the Mediator, with the salvation,\nfull, free, perfect, and eternal in one hand and the sword of\ninflexible justice in the other. The time will come when he'll come\nwith his angels; some day he will withdraw his offer of salvation.\n\n\"Come and accept my Christ! Who'll come and get under the blood with\nme?\"\n\n\n\"What If It Had Been My Boy?\"\n\n\"'Say, papa, can I go with you?' asked a little boy of his father.\n'Yes, son, come on,' said the father, as he threw the axe over his\nshoulder and accompanied by a friend, went to the woods and felled a\ntree.\n\n\"The little fellow said: 'Say, papa, can I go and play in the water\nat the lagoon?' 'Yes, but be careful and don't get into deep water;\nkeep close to the bank.' The little fellow was playing, digging wells,\npicking up stones and shells and talking to himself, when pretty soon\nthe father heard him cry, 'Hurry, papa, hurry.'\n\n\"The father leaped to his feet, grabbed the axe and ran to the lagoon\nand saw the boy floundering in deep water, hands outstretched, a look\nof horror on his face as he cried, 'Hurry, papa; hurry; the alligator\nhas got me.' The hideous amphibious monster had been hibernating and\nhad come out, lean, lank, hungry, voracious, and seized the boy.\n\n\"The father leaped into the lagoon and was just about to sink the axe\nthrough the head of the monster when he turned and swished the water\nwith his huge tail like the screw of an ocean steamer, and the little\nfellow cried out: 'Hurry, papa; hurry, hurry, hur---- ' The water\nchoked him. The blood-flecked foam told the story. The father went and\ngot men and they plunged in and felt around and all they ever carried\nhome to his mother was just two handfuls of crushed bones.\n\n\"When I read that, for days I could not eat, for nights I could not\nsleep. I said, 'Oh, God, what if that had been my boy?'\n\n\"There are influences worse than an alligator and they are ripping and\ntearing to shreds your virtue, your morality. Young men are held by\nintemperance, others by vice, drunkards crying to the Church, 'Hurry,\nfaster,' and the church members sit on the bank playing cards, sit\nthere drinking beer and reading novels. 'Hurry.' They are splitting\nhairs over fool things, criticizing me or somebody else, instead of\ntrying to keep sinners out of hell, and they are crying to the Church,\n'Faster! Faster! Faster!' 'Lord, is it I?'\n\n\"How many will say, 'God, I want to be nearer to you than I have ever\nbeen before. I want to renew my vows. I want to get under the cross.'\nHow many will say it?\n\n\"Who'll yield his heart to Christ? Who'll take his stand for the Lord?\nWho'll come out clean-cut for God?\"\n\n\nA Dream of Heaven\n\n\"Some years ago, after I had been romping and playing with the\nchildren, I grew tired and lay down, and half awake and half asleep, I\nhad a dream.\n\n\"I dreamed I was in a far-off land; it was not Persia, but all the\nglitter and gaudy raiment were there; it was not India, although her\ncoral strands were there; it was not Ceylon, although all the beauties\nof that island of paradise were there; it was not Italy, although the\nsoft dreamy haze of the blue Italian skies shone above me. I looked for\nweeds and briars, thorns and thistles and brambles and found none. I\nsaw the sun in all its regal splendor and I said to the people, 'When\nwill the sun set and it grow dark?'\n\n\"They all laughed and said: 'It never grows dark in this land; there is\nno night here.'\n\n\"I looked at the people, their faces wreathed in a simple halo of\nglory, attired in holiday clothing. I said: 'When will the working men\ngo by clad in overalls? and where are the brawny men who work and toil\nover the anvil?'\n\n\"They said, 'We toil not, neither do we spin; there remaineth a rest\nfor the people of God.'\n\n\"I strolled out in the suburbs. I said, 'Where are the graveyards, the\ngrave-diggers? Where do you bury your dead?'\n\n\"They said, 'We never die here.'\n\n\"I looked out and saw the towers and spires; I looked at them, but I\ndid not see any tombstones, mausoleums, green or flower-covered graves.\nI said, 'Where, where are the hearses that carry your dead? Where are\nthe undertakers that embalm the dead?'\n\n\"They said, 'We never die in this land.'\n\n\"I said, 'Where are the hospitals where they take the sick? Where is\nthe minster, and where are the nurses to give the gentle touch, the\npanacea?'\n\n\"They said, 'We never grow sick in this land.'\n\n\"I said, 'Where are the homes of want and squalor? Where live the poor?'\n\n\"They said, 'There is no penury; none die here; none ever cry for bread\nin this land.' I was bewildered. I strolled along and heard the ripple\nof the waters as the waves broke against the jeweled beach. I saw boats\nwith oars dipped with silver, bows of pure gold. I saw multitudes\nthat no man could number. We all jumped down through the violets and\nvaricolored flowers, the air pulsing with bird song, and I cried,\n\n\"'Are--all--here?' And they echoed,\n\n\"'All--are--here.'\n\n\"And we went leaping and shouting and vied with bower and spire, and\nthey all caroled and sung my welcome, and we all bounded and leaped and\nshouted with glee, 'Home--Home--Home.'\"\n\n\nThe Battle With Death\n\n\"Just one thing divides you people. You are either across the line of\nsafety, or you are outside the kingdom of God. Old or young, rich or\npoor, high or low, ignorant or educated, white or colored, each of you\nis upon one side or upon the other.\n\n\"The young man who talked to Jesus didn't let an infidel persuade him,\nand neither should you.\n\n\"The time will come when his head will lie on his pillow and his\nfevered head will toss from side to side.\n\n\"The time will come when there will be a rap on the door.\n\n\"'Who are you?'\n\n\"'Death.'\n\n\"'I didn't send for you. Why do you come here?'\n\n\"'Nobody sends for me. I choose my own time. If I waited for people to\nsend for me I would never come.'\n\n\"'But don't come in now, Death.'\n\n\"'I am coming in. I have waited for a long time. I have held a mortgage\non you for fifty years, and I've come to foreclose.'\n\n\"'But, ah, Death, I'm not ready.'\n\n\"'Hush! Hush! I've come to take you. You must come.'\n\n\"'Death! Death! Go get my pocketbook, there! Go get my bankbook! Go\nget the key to my safety deposit box! Take my gold watch, my jewelry,\nmy lands, my home, everything I've got, I'll give all to you if you'll\nonly go.'\n\n[Illustration: \"BUT DEATH SAYS, 'I'VE COME FOR YOU'\"]\n\n\"But Death says, 'I've come for you. I don't want your money or your\nland or anything that you have. You must come with me.'\n\n\"'Death! Death! Don't blow that icy breath upon me. Don't crowd me\nagainst the wall!'\n\n\"'You must come! You have a week--you have five days--you\nhave one day--you have twelve hours--you have one hour--you\nhave thirty minutes--you have ten minutes--you have one\nminute--you have thirty seconds-- you have ten seconds!\nI'll count them--one--two--three--four--five--six--ha!\nha!--seven--eight--nine--ten!'\n\n\"He's gone. Telephone for the undertaker. Carry him to the graveyard.\nLay him beside his mother. She died saying, 'I'm sweeping through the\ngates, washed in the blood of the Lamb.' He died shrieking, 'Don't blow\nthat cold breath in my face! Don't crowd me against the wall!' Oh! God,\ndon't let that old infidel keep you out of the kingdom of God.\n\n\"Who'll come into the kingdom of God? Come quick--quick--quick!\"\n\n\n\"Christ or Nothing\"\n\n\"'And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, that will I do,\nthat the Father may be glorified in the Son.' No man can be saved\nwithout Jesus Christ. There's no way to God unless you come through\nJesus Christ. It's Jesus Christ or nothing.\n\n\"At the close of the Battle of Gettysburg the country roundabout was\noverrun by Federals or Confederates, wounded or ill, and the people\nhelped both alike. Relief corps were organized in all the little\ntowns. In one of them--I think it was York--a man who had headed the\ncommittee, resigned as chairman and told his clerk not to send any\nmore soldiers to him. There came a Union soldier with a blood-stained\nbandage and with crutches that he had made for himself, and asked to\nsee this man. 'I am no longer chairman of the committee,' said the man,\n'and I cannot help you, for if I were to make any exception to the\nrule, I would be overrun with applicants.'\n\n\"'But,' said the soldier, 'I don't want to ask you for anything. I only\nwant to give you a letter. It is from your son, who is dead. I was with\nhim, when he died. When he was wounded I got him a canteen of water\nand propped him up against a tree and held his hand when he wrote. I\nknow where he lies.' The father took the letter, and he read it. It\nsaid, 'Treat this soldier kindly for my sake.' Then it told how he had\nhelped the writer--the dying boy. The father said, 'You must come with\nme to his mother.' She saw them coming and cried out, 'Have you any\nnews of my boy?' The father said, 'Here is a letter--read it.' She read\nit and shrieked. They took the wounded soldier into their home, 'Won't\nyou stay with us and be our son? You were his friend, you were with him\nat the last, you look like him, your voice reminds us of him. When you\nspeak and we turn our faces away, we can almost think he is here. Let\nus adopt you. Won't you do it?' He heard their plea, and he was touched\nand he stayed. So heaven will hear your prayer if it is in the name of\nChrist.\n\n\"When I go in the name of Jesus Christ, God will stop making worlds to\nhear me.\n\n\"Lord, teach us how to pray.\"\n\n\nCalvary\n\n\"There comes Judas, leading the devil's crowd, the churchly gang.\nDon't forget that Jesus was crucified by church members whose sins he\nrebuked. Judas said, 'The fellow that I kiss, that's Jesus.' Look at\nthe snake on his sanctimonious countenance. He said, 'Hail, Master,'\nand he kissed him.\n\n\"Jesus said, 'Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?'\n\n\"And they staggered back. 'Whom seek ye?'\n\n\"'We are all looking for Jesus of Nazareth.'\n\n\"'All right, I am he.' They staggered again, and Judas led them on.\n\n\"They rushed up and seized Jesus Christ. When starting for Calvary they\nput a cross on his back. He was tired and he staggered and stumbled,\nthen fell, but he climbed up and a fellow smote him and said, 'Ha, ha,'\nand the young fellow spat upon him. They cursed him and damned him.\nWhat for? Because he came to open up a plan of redemption to keep you\nand me out of hell; and yet you live a life of disgrace. On he went\nand along came a colored man named Simon and they put the cross on\nhis back and he went dragging it for Jesus. The colored race has borne\nmany a burden in the advancement of civilization, but a grander burden\nhas never been on the back of black or white, than when Simon bore the\nMaster's cross.\n\n[Illustration: BILLY JR., MR. AND MRS. SUNDAY AND PAUL.]\n\n\"On they went and seized him, and I can see his arms as they pounded\nthe nails through his hands and his feet. Another fellow digs a hole,\nand I can hear the cross as it 'chugs' in the hole, and they lift him\nbetween heaven and earth. Then the disciples forsook him and fled. Left\nhim all alone. How many will go with Jesus to the last ditch? Thousands\nwill die for him, but there is another set that will not.\n\n\"The disciples followed him to the garden, but forsook him at the cross.\n\n\"If we had been there we might have seen the hilltops and the tree-tops\nfilled and covered with angels, and houses crowded. As Jesus hung on\nthe cross and cried, 'I thirst,' a Jew ran and dipped a sponge in\nwormwood and gall and vinegar and put it on a reed and put it up to\nhis lips. Then Jesus cried, 'My God, why hast thou forsaken me?' There\nhe hung, feeling the burden of your guilt, you booze-fighter, you\nlibertine, you dead-beat. 'My God, hast thou forsaken me?' he cried,\nand I imagine that the archangel cried, \"Oh, Jesus, if you want me to\ncome and sweep the howling, blood-thirsty mob into hell, lift your head\nand look me in the face and I will come.'\n\n\"But Jesus gritted his teeth and struggled on, and the archangel again\ncried, 'Oh, Jesus, if you want me to come, tear your right hand loose\nfrom the cross and wave it, and I will come.' But Jesus just clenched\nhis fist over the nails. What for? To keep you out of hell. Then tell\nme why you are indifferent. And soon he cried, 'It is finished.'\n\n\"The Holy Spirit plucked the olive branch of peace back through the\ngates of heaven from the cross and winged his way and cried, 'Peace!\nPeace has been made by his death on the cross.' That is what he had to\ndo. That was his duty.\"\n\n\nThe World for God\n\n\"A heathen woman named Panathea was famous for her great beauty, and\nKing Cyrus wanted her for his harem. He sent his representatives to her\nand offered her money and jewels to come, but she repulsed them and\nspurned their advances. Again he sent them, this time with offers still\nmore generous and tempting; but again she sent them away with scorn.\nA third time they were sent, and a third time she said, 'Nay.' Then\nKing Cyrus went in person to see her, and he doubled and trebled and\nquadrupled the offers his men had made, but still she would not go. She\ntold him that she was a wife, and that she was true to her husband.\n\n\"He said, 'Panathea, where dwellest thou?'\n\n\"'In the arms and on the breast of my husband,' she said.\n\n\"'Take her away,' said Cyrus. 'She is of no use to me.' Then he put her\nhusband in command of the charioteers and sent him into battle at the\nhead of the troops. Panathea knew what this meant--that her husband\nhad been sent in that he might be killed. She waited while the battle\nraged, and when the field was cleared she shouted his name and searched\nfor him and finally found him wounded and dying. She knelt and clasped\nhim in her arms, and as they kissed, his lamp of life went out forever.\nKing Cyrus heard of the man's death, and came to the field. Panathea\nsaw him coming, careening on his camel like a ship in a storm. She\ncalled, 'Oh, husband! He comes--he shall not have me. I was true to\nyou in life, and will be true to you in death!' And she drew her dead\nhusband's poniard from its sheath, drove it into her own breast and\nfell dead across the body.\n\n\"King Cyrus came up and dismounted. He removed his turban and knelt by\nthe dead husband and wife, and thanked God that he had found in his\nkingdom one true and virtuous woman that his money could not buy, nor\nhis power intimidate.\n\n\"Oh, preachers, the problem of this century is the problem of the\nfirst century. We must win the world for God and we will win the world\nfor God just as soon as we have men and women who will be faithful to\nGod and will not lie and will not sell out to the devil.\"\n\n\nA Word Picture\n\n\"Every day at noon, while Ingersoll was lecturing, Hastings would go\nto old Farwell Hall and answer Ingersoll's statements of the night\nbefore. One night Ingersoll painted one of those wonderful word\npictures for which he was justly famous. He was a master of the use of\nwords. Men and women would applaud and cheer and wave their hats and\nhandkerchiefs, and the waves of sound would rise and fall like great\nwaves of the sea. As two men were going home from his lecture, one of\nthem said to the other: 'Bob certainly cleaned 'em up tonight.' The\nother man said: 'There's one thing he didn't clean up. He didn't clean\nup the religion of my old mother.'\n\n\"This is the word picture Ingersoll painted:\n\n\"'I would rather have been a French peasant and worn wooden shoes; I\nwould rather have lived in a hut, with a vine growing over the door\nand the grapes growing and ripening in the autumn sun; I would rather\nhave been that peasant, with my wife by my side and my children upon\nmy knees twining their arms of affection about me; I would rather have\nbeen that poor French peasant and gone down at least to the eternal\npromiscuity of the dust, followed by those who loved me; I would a\nthousand times rather have been that French peasant than that imperial\nincarnation of force and murder (Napoleon); and so I would ten thousand\ntimes.'\n\n\"What was that? Simply a word picture. It was only the trick of an\norator.\n\n\"Let me paint for you a picture, and see if it doesn't make you feel\nlike leaping and shouting hallelujahs.\n\n\"Infidelity has never won a drunkard from his cups. It has never\nredeemed a fallen woman from her unchastity. It has never built a\nhospital for the crushed and sick. It has never dried tears. It has\nnever built a mission for the rescue of the down-and-out. It wouldn't\ntake a ream, or a quire, or a sheet, or even a line of paper to write\ndown what infidelity has done to better and gladden the world.\n\n\"What has infidelity done to benefit the world? What has it ever done\nto help humanity in any way? It never built a school, it never built\na church, it never built an asylum or a home for the poor. It never\ndid anything for the good of man. I challenge the combined forces of\nunbelief. They have failed utterly.\n\n\"Well may Christianity stand today and point to its hospitals, its\nchurches and its schools with their towers and the spires pointing to\nthe source of their inspiration and say: 'These are the works that I\ndo.'\n\n\"I would rather have been a French peasant and worn wooden shoes; I\nwould rather have lived in a hut, with a vine growing over the door\nand grapes growing and ripening in the autumn sun; I would rather have\nbeen that peasant, with my wife and children by my side and the open\nBible on my knees, at peace with the world and at peace with God; I\nwould rather have been that poor peasant and gone down at least in the\npromiscuity of the dust, with the certainty that my name was written in\nthe Lamb's book of life than to have been that brilliant infidel whose\ntricks of oratory charmed thousands and sent souls to hell.\"\n\n\nThe Faithful Pilot\n\n\"Some years ago a harbor pilot in Boston, who had held a commission for\nsixty-five years (you know the harbor pilots and the ocean pilots are\ndifferent). For sixty-five years he had guided ships in and out of the\nBoston harbor, but his time to die had come. Presently the watchers at\nhis bedside saw that he was trying to sit up, and they aided him. 'I\nsee a light,' he said.\n\n\"'Is it the Minot light?' they asked him.\n\n\"'No, that is first white and then red; this one is all white all\nthe time,' and he fell back. After a few moments he struggled to rise\nagain. 'I see a light,' he gasped.\n\n\"'Is it the Highland light?'\n\n\"'No, that one is red and then black; this one is white all the time.'\nAnd he fell back again and they thought certainly he was gone, but he\ncame back again as if from the skies and they saw his lips moving. 'I\nsee a light.'\n\n\"'Is it the Boston light; the last as you pass out?' they asked.\n\n\"'No, that one is red all the time; this one is white all the time.'\nAnd his hands trembled and he reached out his feeble arms. His face\nlighted up with a halo of glory. 'I see a light,' he gasped, 'and it is\nthe light of glory. Let the anchor drop.'\n\n    \"'And he anchored his soul in the haven of rest,\n      To sail the wild seas no more:\n    Tho' the tempest may beat o'er the wild stormy deep,\n      In Jesus I'm safe evermore.'\n\n\"That's where you ought to be. Will you come?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nAcrobatic Preaching\n\n If nine-tenths of you were as weak physically as you are spiritually,\n you couldn't walk.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nIf, as has been often said, inspiration is chiefly perspiration, then\nthere is no doubting the inspiration of Rev. William A. Sunday, D.D.\nBeyond question he is the most vigorous speaker on the public platform\ntoday. One editor estimates that he travels a mile over his platform\nin every sermon he delivers. There is no other man to liken him to:\nonly an athlete in the pink of condition could endure the gruelling\nexertions to which he subjects himself every day of his campaigns. The\nstranger who sees him for the first time is certain that he is on the\nvery edge of a complete collapse; but as that same remark has been made\nfor years past, it is to be hoped that the physical instrument may be\nequal to its task for a long time to come.\n\nPeople understand with their eyes as well as with their ears;\nand Sunday preaches to both. The intensity of his physical\nexertions--gestures is hardly an adequate word--certainly enhances the\neffect of the preacher's earnestness. No actor on the dramatic stage\nworks so hard. Such passion as dominates Sunday cannot be simulated; it\nis the soul pouring itself out through every pore of the body.\n\nSome of the platform activities of Sunday make spectators gasp. He\nraces to and fro across the platform. Like a jack knife he fairly\ndoubles up in emphasis. One hand smites the other. His foot stamps\nthe floor as if to destroy it. Once I saw him bring his clenched fist\ndown so hard on the seat of a chair that I feared the blood would flow\nand the bones be broken. No posture is too extreme for this restless\ngymnast. Yet it all seems natural. Like his speech, it is an integral\npart of the man. Every muscle of his body preaches in accord with his\nvoice.\n\nBe it whispered, men like this unconventional sort of earnestness.\nWhenever they are given a chance, most men are prone to break the\ntrammels of sober usage. I never yet have met a layman who has been\nthrough a Billy Sunday campaign who had a single word of criticism of\nthe platform gymnastics of the evangelist. Their reasoning is something\nlike this: On the stage, where men undertake to represent a character\nor a truth, they use all arts and spare themselves not at all. Why\nshould not a man go to greater lengths when dealing with living\nrealities of the utmost importance?\n\n[Illustration: SUNDAY IS FOR AN INSTANT DOWN ON ALL FOURS.]\n\nSunday is a physical sermon. In a unique sense he glorifies God with\nhis body. Only a physique kept in tune by clean living and right usage\ncould respond to the terrific and unceasing demands which Sunday makes\nupon it. When in a sermon he alludes to the man who acts no better than\na four-footed brute, Sunday is for an instant down on all fours on\nthe platform and you see that brute. As he pictures a man praying he\nsinks to his knees for a single moment. When he talks of the death-bed\npenitent as a man waiting to be pumped full of embalming fluid, he\ncannot help going through the motions of pumping in the fluid. He\nremarks that death-bed repentance is \"burning the candle of life in the\nservice of the devil, and then blowing the smoke in God's face\"--and\nthe last phrase is accompanied by \"pfouff!\" In a dramatic description\nof the marathon he pictures the athlete falling prostrate at the goal\nand--thud!--there lies the evangelist prone on the platform. Only\na skilled baseball player, with a long drill in sliding to bases,\ncould thus fling himself to the floor without serious injury. On many\noccasions he strips off his coat and talks in his shirt sleeves. It\nseems impossible for him to stand up behind the pulpit and talk only\nwith his mouth.\n\nThe fact is, Sunday is a born actor. He knows how to portray truth by a\nvocal personality. When he describes the traveler playing with a pearl\nat sea, he tosses an imaginary gem into the air so that the spectators\nhold their breath lest the ship should lurch and the jewel be lost.\nWords without gesture could never attain this triumph of oratory.\n\nA hint of Sunday's state of mind which drives him to such earnestness\nand intensity in labor is found in quotations like the following:\n\n\"You will agree with me, in closing, that I'm not a crank; at least I\ntry not to be. I have not preached about my first, second, third or\nhundredth blessing. I have not talked about baptism or immersion. I\ntold you that while I was here my creed would be: 'With Christ you are\nsaved; without him you are lost.' Are you saved? Are you lost? Going to\nheaven? Going to hell? I have tried to build every sermon right around\nthose questions; and also to steer clear of anything else, but I want\nto say to you in closing, that it is the inspiration of my life, the\nsecret of my earnestness. I never preach a sermon but that I think it\nmay be the last one some fellow will hear or the last I shall ever be\nprivileged to preach. It is an inspiration to me that some day He will\ncome.\n\n    \"'It may be at morn, when the day is awaking,\n    When darkness through sunlight and shadow is breaking,\n    That Jesus will come, in the fullness of glory,\n    To receive from the world his own.\n\n    \"'Oh joy, Oh delight, to go without dying,\n    No sickness, no sadness, no sorrow, no crying!\n    Caught up with the Lord in the clouds of glory\n    When he comes to receive from the world his own.'\"\n\n[Illustration: A CARICATURE OF BILLY SUNDAY'S EMPHATIC WAY OF\nPREACHING.]\n\n\"Go straight on and break the lion's neck and turn it into a beehive,\nout of which you will some day take the best and sweetest honey ever\ntasted, for the flavor of a dead lion in the honey beats that of clover\nand buckwheat all to pieces. Be a man, therefore, by going straight on\nto breathe the air that has in it the smoke of battle.\n\n\"Don't spend much time in looking for an easy chair, with a soft\ncushion on it, if you would write your name high in the hall of fame\nwhere the names of real men are found. The man who is willing to be\ncarried over all rough places might as well have wooden legs. 'He is\nnot worthy of the honeycomb who shuns the hive because the bees have\nstings.' The true value of life lies in the preciousness of striving.\nNo tears are ever shed for the chick that dies in its shell.\n\n    \"'Did you tackle the trouble that came your way\n      With a resolute heart and cheerful?\n    Or hide your face from the light of day\n      With a craven soul and fearful?\n    Oh, a trouble is a ton, or a trouble is an ounce,\n      Or a trouble is what you make it,\n    And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts--\n      But only--How did you take it?'\"\n\n\"This poem is by Paul Lawrence Dunbar, the negro poet:\n\n    \"'The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,\n    I said: \"You get somebody else--or, wait till I get through.\n    I don't know how the Lord came out, but he seemed to get along--\n    But I felt kinda sneakin' like, 'cause I know'd I done him wrong--\n    One day I needed the Lord, needed him myself--needed him right\n      away--\n    And he never answered me at all, but I could hear him say--\n    Down in my accusin' heart--\"Nigger, I'se got too much to do,\n    You get somebody else, or wait till I get through.\"\n    Now when the Lord he have a job for me, I never tries to shirk;\n    I drops what I have on hand and does the good Lord's work;\n    And my affairs can run along, or wait till I get through,\n    Nobody else can do the job that God's marked out for you.'\"\n\n\"I will tell you many young people are good in the beginning, but they\nare like the fellow that was killed by falling off a skyscraper--they\nstop too quick. They go one day like a six-cylinder automobile with\nher carbureters working; the next day they stroll along like a fellow\nwalking through a graveyard reading the epitaphs on the tombstones. It\nis the false ideals that strew the shores with wrecks, eagerness to\nachieve success in realms we can not reach that breeds half the ills\nthat curse today. One hundred years from tonight what difference will\nit make whether you are rich or poor; whether learned or illiterate.\n\n    \"'It matters little where I was born,\n      Whether my parents were rich or poor;\n    Whether they shrunk from the cold world's scorn,\n      Or lived in pride of wealth secure.\n    But whether I live an honest man,\n      And hold my integrity firm in my clutch;\n    I tell you--my neighbor--as plain as I can,\n      That matters much.'\n\n\"The engineer is bigger than the locomotive, because he runs it.\n\n\"Do your best and you will never wear out shoe leather looking for\na job. Do your best, and you will never become blind reading 'Help\nWanted' ads in a newspaper. Be like the fellow that went to college and\ntacked the letter V up over his door in his room. He was asked what\nthat stood for, and he said valedictorian, and he went out carrying the\nvaledictory with him.\n\n    \"'If I were a cobbler, best of all cobblers I would be.\n    If I were a tinker, no tinker beside should mend an old tea\n      kettle for me.'\"\n\nIn dealing with the unreality of many preachers, Sunday pictures a\nminister as going to the store to buy groceries for his wife, but using\nhis pulpit manner, his pulpit tone of voice and his pulpit phraseology.\nThis is so true to life that it convulses every congregation that hears\nit. In these few minutes of mimicry the evangelist does more to argue\nfor reality and genuineness and unprofessionalism on the part of the\nclergy than could be accomplished by an hour's lecture.\n\nAnother of his famous passages is his portrayal of the society woman\nnursing a pug dog. You see the woman and you see the dog, and you love\nneither one. Likewise, Sunday mimics the skin-flint hypocrite in a way\nto make the man represented loathe himself.\n\nThis suggests a second fact about Sunday's preaching. He often makes\npeople laugh, but rarely makes them cry. His sense of humor is stronger\nthan his sense of pathos. Now tears and hysterics are supposed to be\npart of the stock in trade of the professional evangelist. Not so with\nSunday. He makes sin absurd and foolish as well as wicked; and he\nmakes the sinner ashamed of himself. He has recovered for the Church\nthe use of that powerful weapon, the barb of ridicule. There are more\ninstruments of warfare in the gospel armory than the average preacher\ncommonly uses. Sunday endeavors to employ them all, and his favorites\nseem to be humor, satire and scorn.\n\nAs a physical performance the preaching to crowds of from ten to\ntwenty-five thousand persons every day is phenomenal. Sunday has not a\nbeautiful voice like many great orators. It is husky and seems strained\nand yet it is able to penetrate every corner of his great tabernacles.\nNor is he possessed of the oratorical manner, \"the grand air\" of the\nrhetorician. Mostly he is direct, informal and colloquial in his\nutterances. But he is so dead in earnest that after every address he\nmust make an entire change of raiment--and, like most baseball players,\nand members of the sporting fraternities, he is fond of good clothes,\neven to the point of foppishness. He carries about a dozen different\nsuits with him and I question whether there is a single Prince Albert\nor \"preacher's coat\" in the whole outfit.\n\nA very human figure is Billy Sunday on the platform. During the\npreliminaries he enjoys the music, the responses of the delegations,\nand any of the informalities that are common accessories of his\nmeetings. When he begins to speak he is an autocrat and will brook no\ndisturbance. He is less concerned about hurting the feelings of some\nfidgety, restless usher or auditor than he is about the comfort of the\ngreat congregation and its opportunity to hear his message.\n\nAny notion that Sunday loves the limelight is wide of the mark. The\nfact is, he shuns the public gaze. It really makes him nervous to be\npointed out and stared at. That is one reason why he does not go to a\nhotel, but hires a furnished house for himself and his associates. Here\nthey \"camp out\" for the period of the campaign, and enjoy something\nlike the family life of every-day American folk. Their hospitable table\nputs on no more frills than that of the ordinary home. The same cook\nhas accompanied the party for months; and when a family's religion so\ncommends itself to the cook, it is likely to grade \"A No. 1 Hard,\" like\nMinnesota wheat.\n\n\"Ma,\" as the whole party call Mrs. Sunday, is responsible for the\nhome, as well as for many meetings. Primarily, though, she looks\nafter \"Daddy.\" Sunday is the type of man who is quite helpless with\nrespect to a dozen matters which a watchful wife attends to. He needs\nconsiderable looking after, and all his friends, from the newspaper men\nto the policeman on duty at the house, conspire to take care of him.\n\nThe Pittsburgh authorities assigned a couple of plain clothes men\nto safeguard Sunday; of course he \"got them\" early, as he gets most\neverybody he comes into touch with. So these men took care of Sunday as\nif he were the famous \"millionaire baby\" of Washington and Newport. Not\na sense of official duty, but affectionate personal solicitude animated\nthose two men who rode in the automobile with us from the house to the\nTabernacle.\n\nThis sort of thing is one of the most illuminating phases of the\nSunday campaign. Those who come closest to the man believe most in\nhis religion. As one of the newspaper men covering the meetings said\nto me, \"The newspaper boys have all 'hit the trail.'\" Then he proved\nhis religion by offering to do the most fraternal services for me.\nFrom Mrs. Sunday, though, I learned that there was one bright reporter\nwho had worked on aspects of the revival who had not gone forward. He\navoided the meetings, and evaded the personal interviews of the Sunday\nparty. The evangelist's wife was as solicitous over that one young\nman's spiritual welfare as if he had been one of her own four children.\n\nTen of the policemen stationed at the Tabernacle went forward the night\nbefore I arrived in Pittsburgh. I was told that twenty others were\nwaiting to \"hit the trail\" in a group, taking their families with them.\n\nThe personal side of Sunday is wholesome and satisfactory. He is a\nsimple, modest chap, marked by the ways of the Middle West. Between\nmeetings he goes to bed, and there friends sometimes visit him. Met\nthus intimately, behind the scenes, one would expect from him an\nunrestrained display of personality, even a measure of egotism. Surely,\nit is sometimes to be permitted a man to recount his achievements.\nNever a boast did I hear from Sunday. Instead, he seemed absurdly\nself-distrustful. These are his times for gathering, and he wanted me\nto tell him about Bible lands!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\n\"The Old-Time Religion\"\n\n I am an old-fashioned preacher of the old-time religion, that has\n warmed this cold world's heart for two thousand years.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nModern to the last minute Sunday's methods may be, but his message is\nunmistakably the \"old-time religion.\" He believes his beliefs without\na question. There is no twilight zone in his intellectual processes;\nno mental reservation in his preaching. He is sure that man is lost\nwithout Christ, and that only by the acceptance of the Saviour can\nfallen humanity find salvation. He is as sure of hell as of heaven, and\nfor all modernized varieties of religion he has only vials of scorn.\n\nIn no single particular is Sunday's work more valuable than in its\nrevelation of the power of positive conviction to attract and convert\nmultitudes. The world wants faith. \"Intolerant,\" cry the scholars of\nSunday; but the hungry myriads accept him as their spiritual guide to\npeace, and joy, and righteousness. The world wants a religion with\nsalvation in it; speculation does not interest the average man who\nseeks deliverance from sin in himself and in the world. He does not\nhope to be evoluted into holiness; he wants to be redeemed.\n\n\"Modernists\" sputter and fume and rail at Sunday and his work: but they\ncannot deny that he leads men and women into new lives of holiness,\nhappiness and helpfulness. Churches are enlarged and righteousness is\npromoted, all by the old, blood-stained way of the Cross. The revivals\nwhich have followed the preaching of Evangelist Sunday are supplemental\nto the Book of the Acts. His theology is summed up in the words Peter\nused in referring to Jesus: \"There is none other Name under heaven\ngiven among men whereby we must be saved.\"\n\nOne of Sunday's favorite sayings is: \"I don't know any more about\ntheology than a jack-rabbit does about ping-pong, but I'm on the way to\nglory.\" That really does not fully express the evangelist's point. He\nwas arguing that \"theology bears the same relation to Christianity that\nbotany does to flowers, or astronomy to the stars. Botany is rewritten,\nbut the flowers remain the same. Theology changes (I have no objection\nto your new theology when it tries to make the truths of Christianity\nclearer), but Christianity abides. Nobody is kept out of heaven because\nhe does not understand theology. It isn't theology that saves, but\nChrist; it is not the sawdust trail that saves, but Christ in the\nmotive that makes you hit the trail.\n\n\"I believe the Bible is the word of God from cover to cover. I believe\nthat the man who magnifies the word of God in his preaching is the\nman whom God will honor. Why do such names stand out on the pages of\nhistory as Wesley, Whitefield, Finney and Martin Luther? Because of\ntheir fearless denunciation of all sin, and because they preach Jesus\nChrist without fear or favor.\n\n\"But somebody says a revival is abnormal. You lie! Do you mean to tell\nme that the godless, card-playing conditions of the Church are normal?\nI say they are not, but it is the abnormal state. It is the sin-eaten,\napathetic condition of the Church that is abnormal. It is the 'Dutch\nlunch' and beer party, card parties and the like, that are abnormal. I\nsay that they lie when they say that a revival is an abnormal condition\nin the Church.\n\n\"What we need is the good old-time kind of revival that will cause you\nto love your neighbors, and quit talking about them. A revival that\nwill make you pay your debts, and have family prayers. Get that kind\nand then you will see that a revival means a very different condition\nfrom what people believe it does.\n\n\"Christianity means a lot more than church membership. Many an old\nskin-flint is not fit for the balm of Gilead until you give him a\nfly blister and get after him with a currycomb. There are too many\nSunday-school teachers who are godless card-players, beer, wine and\nchampagne drinkers. No wonder the kids are going to the devil. No\nwonder your children grow up like cattle when you have no form of\nprayer in the home.\"\n\n\nTHE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO SUNDAY\n\nWhat does converted mean? It means completely changed. Converted is not\nsynonymous with reformed. Reforms are from without--conversion from\nwithin. Conversion is a complete surrender to Jesus. It's a willingness\nto do what he wants you to do. Unless you have made a complete\nsurrender and are doing his will it will avail you nothing if you've\nreformed a thousand times and have your name on fifty church records.\n\nBelieve on the Lord Jesus Christ, in your heart and confess him with\nyour mouth and you will be saved. God is good. The plan of salvation\nis presented to you in two parts. Believe in your heart and confess\nwith your mouth. Many of you here probably do believe. Why don't you\nconfess? Now own up. The truth is that you have a yellow streak. Own\nup, business men, and business women, and all of you others. Isn't\nit so? Haven't you got a little saffron? Brave old Elijah ran like a\nscared deer when he heard old Jezebel had said she would have his head,\nand he beat it. And he ran to Beersheba and lay down under a juniper\ntree and cried to the Lord to let him die. The Lord answered his\nprayer, but not in the way he expected. If he had let him die he would\nhave died with nothing but the wind moaning through the trees as his\nfuneral dirge. But the Lord had something better for Elijah. He had a\nchariot of fire and it swooped down and carried him into glory without\nhis ever seeing death.\n\nSo he says he has something better for you--salvation if he can get you\nto see it. You've kept your church membership locked up. You've smiled\nat a smutty story. When God and the Church were scoffed at you never\npeeped, and when asked to stand up here you've sneaked out the back\nway and beat it. You're afraid and God despises a coward--a mutt. You\ncannot be converted by thinking so and sitting still.\n\n[Illustration: EVERY MUSCLE IN HIS BODY PREACHES IN ACCORD WITH HIS\nVOICE.]\n\nMaybe you're a drunkard, an adulterer, a prostitute, a liar; won't\nadmit you are lost; are proud. Maybe you're even proud you're not\nproud, and Jesus has a time of it.\n\nJesus said: \"Come to me,\" not to the Church; to me, not to a creed; to\nme, not to a preacher; to me, not to an evangelist; to me, not to a\npriest; to me, not to a pope; \"Come to me and I will give you rest.\"\nFaith in Jesus Christ saves you, not faith in the Church.\n\nYou can join church, pay your share of the preacher's salary, attend\nthe services, teach Sunday school, return thanks and do everything that\nwould apparently stamp you as a Christian--even pray--but you won't\never be a Christian until you do what God tells you to do.\n\nThat's the road, and that's the only one mapped out for you and for me.\nGod treats all alike. He doesn't furnish one plan for the banker and\nanother for the janitor who sweeps out the bank. He has the same plan\nfor one that he has for another. It's the law--you may not approve of\nit, but that doesn't make any difference.\n\n\nSalvation a Personal Matter\n\nThe first thing to remember about being saved is that salvation is a\npersonal matter. \"Seek ye the Lord\"--that means every one must seek for\nhimself. It won't do for the parent to seek for the children; it won't\ndo for the children to seek for the parent. If you were sick all the\nmedicine I might take wouldn't do you any good. Salvation is a personal\nmatter that no one else can do for you; you must attend to it yourself.\n\nSome persons have lived manly or womanly lives, and they lack but one\nthing--open confession of the Lord Jesus Christ. Some men think that\nthey must come to him in a certain way--that they must be stirred by\nemotion or something like that.\n\nSome people have a deeper conviction of sin before they are converted\nthan after they are converted. With some it is the other way. Some know\nwhen they are converted and others don't.\n\nSome people are emotional. Some are demonstrative. Some will cry\neasily. Some are cold and can't be moved to emotion. A man jumped up\nin a meeting and asked whether he could be saved when he hadn't shed a\ntear in forty years. Even as he spoke he began to shed tears. It's all\na matter of how you're constituted. I am vehement, and I serve God with\nthe same vehemence that I served the devil when I went down the line.\n\nSome of you say that in order to accept Jesus you must have different\nsurroundings. You think you could do it better in some other place. You\ncan be saved where you are as well as any place on earth. I say, \"My\nwatch doesn't run. It needs new surroundings. I'll put it in this other\npocket, or I'll put it here, or here on these flowers.\" It doesn't need\nnew surroundings. It needs a new mainspring; and that's what the sinner\nneeds. You need a new heart, not a new suit.\n\nWhat can I do to keep out of hell? \"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ\nand thou shalt be saved.\"\n\nThe Philippian jailer was converted. He had put the disciples into\nthe stocks when they came to the prison, but after his conversion he\nstooped down and washed the blood from their stripes.\n\nNow, leave God out of the proposition for a minute. Never mind about\nthe new birth--that's his business. Jesus Christ became a man, bone\nof our bone, flesh of our flesh. He died on the cross for us, so that\nwe might escape the penalty pronounced on us. Now, never mind about\nanything but our part in salvation. Here it is: \"Believe on the Lord\nJesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.\"\n\nYou say, \"Mr. Sunday, the Church is full of hypocrites.\" So's hell. I\nsay to you if you don't want to go to hell and live with that whole\nbunch forever, come into the Church, where you won't have to associate\nwith them very long. There are no hypocrites in heaven.\n\nYou say, \"Mr. Sunday, I can be a Christian and go to heaven without\njoining a church.\" Yes, and you can go to Europe without getting on\nboard a steamer. The swimming's good--but the sharks are laying for\nfellows who take that route. I don't believe you. If a man is truly\nsaved he will hunt for a church right away.\n\nYou say, \"It's so mysterious. I don't understand.\" You'll be surprised\nto find out how little you know. You plant a seed in the ground--that's\nyour part. You don't understand how it grows. How God makes that seed\ngrow is mysterious to you.\n\nSome people think that they can't be converted unless they go down on\ntheir knees in the straw at a camp-meeting, unless they pray all hours\nof the night, and all nights of the week, while some old brother storms\nheaven in prayer. Some think a man must lose sleep, must come down the\naisle with a haggard look, and he must froth at the mouth and dance and\nshout. Some get it that way, and they don't think that the work I do is\ngenuine unless conversions are made in the same way that they have got\nreligion.\n\nI want you to see what God put in black and white; that there can be a\nsound, thorough conversion in an instant; that man can be converted as\nquietly as the coming of day and never backslide. I do not find fault\nwith the way other people get religion. What I want and preach is the\nfact that a man can be converted without any fuss.\n\nIf a man wants to shout and clap his hands in joy over his wife's\nconversion, or if a wife wants to cry when her husband is converted, I\nam not going to turn the hose on them, or put them in a strait-jacket.\nWhen a man turns to God truly in conversion, I don't care what form his\nconversion takes. I wasn't converted that way, but I do not rush around\nand say, with gall and bitterness, that you are not saved because you\ndid not get religion the way I did. If we all got religion in the same\nway, the devil might go to sleep with a regular Rip Van Winkle snooze\nand still be on the job.\n\nLook at Nicodemus. You could never get a man with the temperament of\nNicodemus near a camp meeting, to kneel down in the straw, or to shout\nand sing. He was a quiet, thoughtful, honest, sincere and cautious man.\nHe wanted to know the truth and he was willing to walk in the light\nwhen he found it.\n\nLook at the man at the pool of Bethesda. He was a big sinner and was\nin a lot of trouble which his sins had made for him. He had been in\nthat condition for a long time. It didn't take him three minutes to say\n\"Yes,\" when the Lord spoke to him. See how quietly he was converted.\n\n\n\"And He Arose and Followed Him\"\n\nMatthew stood in the presence of Christ and he realized what it would\nbe to be without Christ, to be without hope, and it brought him to a\nquick decision. \"And he arose and followed him.\"\n\nHow long did that conversion take? How long did it take him to accept\nChrist after he had made up his mind? And you tell me you can't make\nan instant decision to please God? The decision of Matthew proves\nthat you can. While he was sitting at his desk he was not a disciple.\nThe instant he arose he was. That move changed his attitude toward\nGod. Then he ceased to do evil and commenced to do good. You can be\nconverted just as quickly as Matthew was.\n\nGod says: \"Let the wicked man forsake his way.\" The instant that is\ndone, no matter if the man has been a life-long sinner, he is safe.\nThere is no need of struggling for hours--or for days--do it now. Who\nare you struggling with? Not God. God's mind was made up long before\nthe foundations of the earth were laid. The plan of salvation was made\nlong before there was any sin in the world. Electricity existed long\nbefore there was any car wheel for it to drive. \"Let the wicked man\nforsake his way.\" When? Within a month, within a week, within a day,\nwithin an hour? No! Now! The instant you yield, God's plan of salvation\nis thrown into gear. You will be saved before you know it, like a child\nbeing born.\n\nRising and following Christ switched Matthew from the broad to the\nnarrow way. He must have counted the cost as he would have balanced his\ncash book. He put one side against the other. The life he was living\nled to all chance of gain. On the other side there was Jesus, and Jesus\noutweighs all else. He saw the balance turn as the tide of a battle\nturns and then it ended with his decision. The sinner died and the\ndisciple was born.\n\nI believe that the reason the story of Matthew was written was to show\nhow a man could be converted quickly and quietly. It didn't take him\nfive or ten years to begin to do something--he got busy right away.\n\nYou don't believe in quick conversions? There have been a dozen men of\nmodern times who have been powers for God whose conversion was as quiet\nas Matthew's. Charles G. Finney never went to a camp meeting. He was\nout in the woods alone, praying, when he was converted. Sam Jones, a\nmighty man of God, was converted at the bedside of his dying father.\nMoody accepted Christ while waiting on a customer in a boot and shoe\nstore. Dr. Chapman was converted as a boy in a Sunday school. All the\nother boys in the class had accepted Christ, and only Wilbur remained.\nThe teacher turned to him and said, \"And how about you, Wilbur?\" He\nsaid, \"I will,\" and he turned to Christ and has been one of his most\npowerful evangelists for many years. Gipsy Smith was converted in his\nfather's tent. Torrey was an agnostic, and in comparing agnosticism,\ninfidelity and Christianity, he found the scale tipped toward Christ.\nLuther was converted as he crawled up a flight of stairs in Rome.\n\nSeemingly the men who have moved the world for Christ have been\nconverted in a quiet manner. The way to judge a tree is by its fruit.\nJudge a tree of quiet conversion in this way.\n\nAnother lesson. When conversion compels people to forsake their\nprevious calling, God gives them a better job. Luke said, \"He left\nall.\" Little did he dream that his influence would be world-reaching\nand eternity-covering. His position as tax-collector seemed like a big\njob, but it was picking up pins compared to the job God gave him. Some\nof you may be holding back for fear of being put out of your job. If\nyou do right God will see that you do not suffer. He has given plenty\nof promises, and if you plant your feet on them you can defy the\npoor-house. Trust in the Lord means that God will feed you. Following\nChrist you may discover a gold mine of ability that you never dreamed\nof possessing. There was a saloon-keeper, converted in a meeting at New\nCastle, who won hundreds of people to Christ by his testimony and his\npreaching.\n\nYou do not need to be in the church before the voice comes to you; you\ndon't need to be reading the Bible; you don't need to be rich or poor\nor learned. Wherever Christ comes follow. You may be converted while\nengaged in your daily business. Men cannot put up a wall and keep Jesus\naway. The still small voice will find you.\n\n\nAt the Cross-roads\n\nRight where the two roads through life diverge God has put Calvary.\nThere he put up a cross, the stumbling block over which the love of God\nsaid, \"I'll touch the heart of man with the thought of father and son.\"\nHe thought that would win the world to him, but for nineteen hundred\nyears men have climbed the Mount of Calvary and trampled into the earth\nthe tenderest teachings of God.\n\nYou are on the devil's side. How are you going to cross over?\n\nSo you cross the line and God won't issue any extradition papers. Some\nof you want to cross. If you believe, then say so, and step across.\nI'll bet there are hundreds that are on the edge of the line and many\nare standing straddling it. But that won't save you. You believe in\nyour heart--confess him with your mouth. With his heart man believes\nand with his mouth he confesses. Then confess and receive salvation\nfull, free, perfect and external. God will not grant any extradition\npapers. Get over the old line. A man isn't a soldier because he wears\na uniform, or carries a gun, or carries a canteen. He is a soldier\nwhen he makes a definite enlistment. All of the others can be bought\nwithout enlisting. When a man becomes a soldier he goes out on muster\nday and takes an oath to defend his country. It's the oath that makes\nhim a soldier. Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more\nthan going to a garage makes you an automobile, but public definite\nenlistment for Christ makes you a Christian.\n\n\"Oh,\" a woman said to me out in Iowa, \"Mr. Sunday, I don't think I have\nto confess with my mouth.\" I said: \"You're putting up your thought\nagainst God's.\"\n\nM-o-u-t-h doesn't spell intellect. It spells mouth and you must confess\nwith your mouth. The mouth is the biggest part about most people,\nanyhow.\n\nWhat must I do?\n\nPhilosophy doesn't answer it. Infidelity doesn't answer it. First,\n\"believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.\" Believe\non the Lord. Lord--that's his kingly name. That's the name he reigns\nunder. \"Thou shalt call his name Jesus.\" It takes that kind of a\nconfession. Give me a Saviour with a sympathetic eye to watch me so I\nshall not slander. Give me a Saviour with a strong arm to catch me if I\nstumble. Give me a Saviour that will hear my slightest moan.\n\nBelieve on the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved. Christ is his\nresurrection name. He is sitting at the right hand of the Father\ninterceding for us.\n\nBecause of his divinity he understands God's side of it and because of\nhis humanity he understands our side of it. Who is better qualified to\nbe the mediator? He's a mediator. What is that? A lawyer is a mediator\nbetween the jury and the defendant. A retail merchant is a mediator\nbetween the wholesale dealer and the consumer. Therefore, Jesus Christ\nis the Mediator between God and man. Believe on the Lord. He's ruling\ntoday. Believe on the Lord Jesus. He died to save us. Believe on the\nLord Jesus Christ. He's the Mediator.\n\nHer majesty, Queen Victoria, was traveling in Scotland when a storm\ncame up and she took refuge in a little hut of a Highlander. She stayed\nthere for an hour and when she went the good wife said to her husband,\n\"We'll tie a ribbon on that chair because her majesty has sat on it and\nno one else will ever sit on it.\" A friend of mine was there later and\nwas going to sit in the chair when the man cried: \"Nae, nae, mon. Dinna\nsit there. Her majesty spent an hour with us once and she sat on that\nchair and we tied a ribbon on it and no one else will ever sit on it.\"\nThey were honored that her majesty had spent the hour with them. It\nbrought unspeakable joy to them.\n\nIt's great that Jesus Christ will sit on the throne of my heart, not\nfor an hour, but here to sway his power forever and ever.\n\n\n\"He Died for Me\"\n\nIn the war there was a band of guerillas--Quantrell's band--that had\nbeen ordered to be shot on sight. They had burned a town in Iowa and\nthey had been caught. One long ditch was dug and they were lined up in\nfront of it and blindfolded and tied, and just as the firing squad was\nready to present arms a young man dashed through the bushes and cried,\n\"Stop!\" He told the commander of the firing squad that he was as guilty\nas any of the others, but he had escaped and had come of his own free\nwill, and pointed to one man in the line and asked to take his place.\n\"I'm single,\" he said, \"while he has a wife and babies.\" The commander\nof that firing squad was an usher in one of the cities in which I held\nmeetings, and he told me how the young fellow was blindfolded and bound\nand the guns rang out and he fell dead.\n\n[Illustration: \"YOU OLD SKEPTIC, WE ARE COUNTING TIME ON YOU.\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"JOHN, THE DRUNKARD, MARCHING UP TO THE BUTCHER'S SHOP.\"]\n\nTime went on and one day a man came upon another in a graveyard in\nMissouri weeping and shaping the grave into form. The first man asked\nwho was buried there and the other said, \"The best friend I ever had.\"\nThen he told how he had not gone far away but had come back and got the\nbody of his friend after he had been shot and buried it; so he knew\nhe had the right body. And he had brought a withered bouquet all the\nway from his home to put on the grave. He was poor then and could not\nafford anything costly, but he had placed a slab of wood on the pliable\nearth with these words on it: \"He died for me.\"\n\nMajor Whittle stood by the grave some time later and saw the same\nmonument. If you go there now you will see something different. The man\nbecame rich and today there is a marble monument fifteen feet high and\non it this inscription:\n\n    SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF\n    WILLIE LEE\n    HE TOOK MY PLACE IN THE LINE\n    HE DIED FOR ME\n\nSacred to the memory of Jesus Christ. He took our place on the cross\nand gave his life that we might live, and go to heaven and reign with\nhim.\n\n\"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, confess him with thy mouth, and thou\nshalt be saved and thy house.\"\n\nIt is a great salvation that can reach down into the quagmire of filth,\npull a young man out and send him out to hunt his mother and fill her\ndays with sunshine. It is a great salvation, for it saves from great\nsin.\n\nThe way to salvation is not Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Vassar or\nWellesley. Environment and culture can't put you into heaven without\nyou accept Jesus Christ.\n\nIt's great. I want to tell you that the way to heaven is a\nblood-stained way. No man has ever reached it without Jesus Christ and\nhe never will.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n\"Hitting the Sawdust Trail\"\n\n Come and accept my Christ.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nPioneers are necessarily unconventional. America has done more than\ntransform a wilderness into a nation: in the process she has created\nnew forms of life and of speech. Back from the frontier has come a\nnew, terse, vigorous and pictorial language. Much of it has found its\nway into the dictionaries. The newer West uses the word \"trail\"--first\nemployed to designate the traces left by traveling Indians--to\ndesignate a path. The lumbermen commonly call the woods roads \"trails.\"\n\nImagine a lumberman lost in the big woods. He has wandered, bewildered,\nfor days. Death stares him in the face. Then, spent and affrighted, he\ncomes to a trail. And the trail leads to life; it is the way home.\n\nThere we have the origin of the expression \"Hitting the sawdust\ntrail,\" used in Mr. Sunday's meetings as a term similar to the older\nstereotyped phrases: \"Going forward\"; \"Seeking the altar.\" The more\nconventional method, used by the other evangelists, is to ask for a\nshow of hands.\n\nOut in the Puget Sound country, where the sawdust aisles and the\nrough tabernacle made an especial appeal to the woodsmen, the phrase\n\"Hitting the sawdust trail\" came into use in Mr. Sunday's meetings. The\nfigure was luminous. For was not this the trail that led the lost to\nsalvation, the way home to the Father's house?\n\nThe metaphor appealed to the American public, which relishes all\nthat savors of our people's most primitive life. Besides, the novel\ndesignation serves well the taste of a nation which is singularly\nreticent concerning its finer feelings, and delights to cloak its\nloftiest sentiments beneath slang phrases. The person who rails at\n\"hitting the trail\" as an irreverent phrase has something to learn\nabout the mind of Americans. Tens of thousands of persons have\nenshrined the homely phrase in the sanctuary of their deepest spiritual\nexperience.\n\nThe scene itself, when Mr. Sunday calls for converts to come forward\nand take his hand, in token of their purpose to accept and follow\nChrist, is simply beyond words. Human speech cannot do justice to the\npicture. For good reason. This is one of those crises in human life\nthe portrayal of which makes the highest form of literature. A Victor\nHugo could find a dozen novels in each night's experience in the Sunday\nTabernacle.\n\nThis is an hour of bared souls. The great transaction between man\nand his Maker is under way. The streams of life are here changing\ntheir course. Character and destiny are being altered. The old Roman\n\"Sacramentum,\" when the soldiers gave allegiance with uplifted hand,\ncrying, \"This for me! This for me!\" could not have been more impressive\nthan one of these great outpourings of human life up the sawdust aisle\nto the pulpit, to grasp the preacher's hand, in declaration that\nhenceforth their all would be dedicated to the Christ of Calvary.\n\nThe greatness of the scene is at first incomprehensible. There are no\nparallels for it in all the history of Protestantism. This unschooled\nAmerican commoner, who could not pass the entrance examinations of any\ntheological seminary in the land, has publicly grasped the hands of\napproximately a quarter of a million persons, who by that token have\nsaid, in the presence of the great congregation, that they thereby\nvowed allegiance to their Saviour and Lord. Moody, Whitefield, Finney,\nhave left no such record of converts as this.\n\nA dramatic imagination is needed to perceive even a fragment of what is\nmeant by this army of Christian recruits. The magnitude of the host is\nscarcely revealed by the statement that these converts more than equal\nthe number of inhabitants of the states of Delaware or Arizona at the\nlast census, and far surpass those of Nevada and Wyoming. Imagine a\nstate made up wholly of zealous disciples of Christ! Of the one hundred\nlargest cities in the United States there are only nineteen with more\ninhabitants than the total number of persons who have \"hit the trail\"\nat the Sunday meetings.\n\nBreak up that vast host into its component parts. Each is an individual\nwhose experience is as real and distinctive as if there never had been\nanother human soul to come face to face with God. To one the act means\na clean break with a life of open sin. To another it implies a restored\nhome and a return to respectability. To this young person it signifies\nentrance upon a life of Christian service; to that one a separation\nfrom all old associations. Some must give up unworthy callings. Other\nmust heal old feuds and make restitution for ancient wrongs. One young\nwoman in accepting Christ knows that she must reject the man she had\nmeant to marry. To many men it implies a severance of old political\nrelations. Far and wide and deep this sawdust trail runs; and the\nrecord is written in the sweat of agonizing souls and in the red of\nhuman blood.\n\nThe consequences of conversion stagger the imagination: this process is\nstill the greatest social force of the age.\n\nLittle wonder that persons of discernment journey long distances to\nattend a Sunday meeting, and to witness this appeal for converts to\n\"hit the trail.\" I traveled several hundred miles to see it for the\nfirst time, and would go across the continent to see it again. For\nthis is vital religion. If a wedding casts its dramatic spell upon\nthe imagination; if a political election stirs the sluggish deeps of\nthe popular mind; if a battle calls for newspaper \"extras\"; if an\nexecution arrests popular attention by its element of the mystery of\nlife becoming death--then, by so much and more, this critical, decisive\nmoment in the lives of living men and women grips the mind by its\nintense human interest. What issues, for time and eternity, are being\ndetermined by this step! The great romance is enacted daily at the\nSunday meetings.\n\nFor these converts are intent upon the most sacred experience that\never comes to mortal. Through what soul struggles they have passed,\nwhat renunciations they have made, what futures they front, only God\nand heaven's hosts know. The crowd dimly senses all this. There is\nan instinctive appreciation of the dramatic in the multitude. So the\nevangelist's appeal is followed by an added tenseness, a straining of\nnecks and a general rising to behold the expected procession.\n\nA more simple and unecclesiastical setting for this tremendous scene\ncould scarcely be devised. The plain board platform, about six feet\nhigh, and fifteen feet long, is covered by a carpet. Its only furniture\nis a second-hand walnut pulpit, directly under the huge sounding board;\nand one plain wooden chair, \"a kitchen chair,\" a housewife would call\nit. Then the invitation is given for all who want to come out on the\nside of Christ to come forward and grasp Sunday's hand.\n\nSee them come! From all parts of the vast building they press forward.\nNearly everyone is taking this step before the eyes of friends,\nneighbors, work-fellows. It calls for courage, for this is a life\nenlistment. Behold the young men crowding toward the platform, where\nthe helpers form them into a swiftly moving line--dozens and scores of\nboys and men in the first flush of manhood. Occasionally an old person\nis in the line; oftener it is a boy or girl. There goes a mother with\nher son.\n\nHow differently the converts act. Some have streaming eyes. Others\nwear faces radiant with the light of a new hope. Still others have the\ntense, set features of gladiators entering the arena. For minute after\nminute the procession continues. When a well-known person goes forward,\nthe crowd cheers.\n\nAs I have studied Mr. Sunday in the act of taking the hands of\nconverts--one memorable night more than five hundred at the rate of\nfifty-seven a minute--the symbolism of his hand has appealed to my\nimagination.\n\nSurprisingly small and straight and surprisingly strong it is. Baseball\nbattles have left no scars upon it. The lines are strong and deep and\nclear. The hand is \"in condition\"; no flabbiness about it. There are no\nrings on either of Mr. Sunday's hands, except a plain gold wedding ring\non the left third finger.\n\nNo outstretched hand of military commander ever pointed such a host\nto so great a battle. Is there anywhere a royal hand, wielding a\nscepter over a nation, which has symbolized so much vital influence\nas this short, firm hand of a typical American commoner? The soldier\nsent on a desperate mission asked Wellington for \"one grasp of your\nconquering hand.\" A conquering hand, a helping hand, an uplifting hand,\nan upward-pointing hand, is this which once won fame by handling a\nbaseball.\n\nConceive of the vast variety of hands that have been reached up to\ngrasp this one, and what those hands have since done for the world's\nbetterment! Two hundred thousand dedicated right hands, still a-tingle\nwith the touch of this inviting hand of the preacher of the gospel! The\npicture of Sunday's right hand belongs in the archives of contemporary\nreligious history.\n\nNo stage manager could ever set so great a scene as this. The\nvastness of it--sixteen or seventeen thousand eyes all centered on\none ordinary-looking American on a high green-carpeted platform, a\nveritable \"sea of faces\"--is not more impressive than the details which\nan observer picks out.\n\nThe multitudes are of the sort who thronged the Galilean; plain people,\nhome-keeping women, seldom seen in public places; mechanics, clerks,\nthe great American commonalty. Again and again one is impressed from\nsome fresh angle with the democracy of it all; this man somehow\nappeals to that popular sense wherein all special tastes and interests\nmerge.\n\nThe _d\u00e9b\u00e2cle_ is a sight beyond words. The ice of conventionality\nbreaks up, and the tide of human feeling floods forth. From every part\nof the great tabernacle--from the front seats, where you have been\nstudying the personalities, and from the distant rear, where all the\nfaces merge into an impersonal mass--persons begin to stream forward.\nSee how they come. The moment is electric. Everybody is on the _qui\nvive_.\n\nThe first to take the evangelist's hand is a young colored boy. The\ngirl who follows may be a stenographer. Young men are a large part of\nthe recruits; here come a dozen fine-looking members of an athletic\nclub in a body, while the crowd cheers; evidently somebody has been\ndoing personal work there.\n\nContrasts are too common to mention. There is a delicate lady's\nkid-gloved hand reached up to that of the evangelist; the next is the\ngrimy, calloused hand of a blue-shirted miner. The average is of young\nmen and women, the choice and the mighty members of a community. Is the\nworld to find a new moral or religious leader in the person of some\none of these bright-faced youth who tonight have made this sign of\ndedication?\n\nAnd here comes an old man, with a strong face; evidently a personality\nof force. Twice the evangelist pats the head bowed before him, in\npleasure over this aged recruit. He seems reluctant to let the old man\ngo; but, see the children crowd behind him, and no convert can have\nmore than a handclasp and a word.\n\nAll around the platform the crowd resembles a hive of bees just before\nswarming. Stir, motion, animation seem to create a scene of confusion.\nBut there is order and purpose in it all. The occupants of the front\nseats are being moved out to make way for the converts, who are there\nto be talked with, and to sign the cards that are to be turned over to\nthe local pastors.\n\nPersonal workers are getting into action. See the ministers streaming\ndown into the fray! There goes the Young Men's Christian Association\nsecretary, and the Salvation Army soldiers, and the members of the\nchoir, wearing Christian Endeavor and Bible class badges. This is\nreligion in action. Can these church members ever again lapse into dead\nconventionality?\n\nMeanwhile, Rodeheaver, the chorister, leans upon the piano and softly\nleads the great choir in \"Almost Persuaded.\" The musical invitation\ncontinues while the work goes on in front. It is undisturbed by an\noccasional appeal from the evangelist. The song quickly changes to\n\"Oh, Where Is My Wandering Boy Tonight?\" and then, as the volume of\npenitents increases, into \"I Am Coming Home\" and \"Ring the Bells of\nHeaven, There is Joy Today!\" All this is psychological; it fosters the\nmood which the sermon has created. Music mellows as many hearts as\nspoken words.\n\nAll the while Sunday is shaking hands. At first he leans far over,\nfor the platform is more than six feet high. Sometimes it seems as if\nhe will lose his balance. To reach down he stands on his left foot,\nwith his right leg extended straight behind him, the foot higher than\nhis head. No one posture is retained long. Often he dips down with a\nswinging circular motion, like a pitcher about to throw a ball. Never\nwas man more lavish of his vital energy than this one. His face is\nwhite and tense and drawn; work such as this makes terrific draughts on\na man's nerve force.\n\nAs the converts increase, he lifts a trapdoor in the platform, which\npermits him to stand three feet nearer the people. Still they come,\noften each led by some personal worker. I saw a Scandinavian led\nforward in one meeting; ten minutes later I saw him bringing his wife\nup the trail. Some of the faces are radiant with a new joy. Others are\nset at a nervous tension. Some jaws are grim and working, revealing the\ninner conflict which has resulted in this step.\n\nA collarless, ragged, weak-faced slave of dissipation is next in line\nto a beautiful girl in the dew of her youth. An old, white-wooled\nnegro, leaning on a staff, is led forward. Then a little child. Here\nare veritably all sorts and conditions of people.\n\n[Illustration: A COLLARLESS, WEAK-FACED SLAVE OF DISSIPATION IS NEXT IN\nLINE TO A BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE DEW OF HER YOUTH]\n\nIn the particular session I am describing, a big delegation of railroad\nmen is present, and the evangelist keeps turning to them, with an\noccasional \"Come on, Erie!\" The memories of his own days as a railroad\nbrakeman are evidently working within him, and he seizes a green\nlantern and waves it. \"A clear track ahead!\" Toward these men he is\nmost urgent, beckoning them also with a white railroad flag which he\nhas taken from the decorations. When the master mechanic \"hits the\ntrail\" there is cheering from the crowd, and Sunday himself shows a\ndelight that was exhibited over none of the society folk who came\nforward.\n\nRare and remarkable as are these scenes in religious history, they\noccur nightly in the Sunday tabernacle. Two hundred, three hundred,\nfive hundred, one thousand converts are common.\n\nAnybody interested in life and in the phenomena of religion will find\nthis occasion the most interesting scene at present to be witnessed in\nthe whole world. As for the novelist, this is the human soul bared, and\nbeyond the compass of his highest art.\n\nFor life is at its apex when, in new resolution, a mortal spirit makes\ncompact with the Almighty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nThe Service of Society\n\n A lot of people think a man needs a new grandfather, sanitation, and a\n new shirt, when what he needs is a new heart.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nSome day a learned university professor, with a string of titles after\nhis name, will startle the world by breaking away from the present\nconventionalism in sociology, and will conduct elaborate laboratory\nexperiments in human betterment on the field of a Billy Sunday\ncampaign. His conclusion will surely be that the most potent force for\nthe service of society--the shortest, surest way of bettering the human\nrace--is by the fresh, clear, sincere and insistent preaching of the\nGospel of Jesus Christ.\n\nOf course, the New Testament has been teaching that for nearly twenty\ncenturies, but the world has not yet comprehended the practicability of\nthe program. Your learned professor may prove, by literally thousands\nof incidents, that honesty, chastity, brotherliness, and idealism\nhave been more definitely promoted by revivals of religion than by\nlegislative or educational programs. All that the social reformers of\nour day desire may be most quickly secured by straight-out preaching\nof the Gospel. The shortcut to a better social order is by way of\nconverted men and women. And when a modern scholar comes to demonstrate\nthis he will draw largely upon the aftermath of the Sunday campaigns\nfor his contemporaneous evidence.\n\nIf there is one phrase which, better than another, can describe a\nBilly Sunday campaign it is \"restitution and righteousness.\" In season\nand out, the evangelist insists upon a changed life as the first\nconsequence of conversion. His message runs on this wise:\n\n\"You ought to live so that every one who comes near you will know that\nyou are a Christian. Do you? Does your milkman know that you are a\nChristian? Does the man who brings your laundry know that you belong\nto church? Does the man who hauls away your ashes know that you are\na Christian? Does your newsboy know that you have religion? Does the\nbutcher know that you are on your way to heaven? Some of you buy meat\non Saturday night, and have him deliver it Sunday morning, just to save\na little ice, and then you wonder why he doesn't go to church.\n\n[Illustration: \"DOES YOUR NEWSBOY KNOW THAT YOU HAVE RELIGION?\"]\n\n\"If you had to get into heaven on the testimony of your washer-woman,\ncould you make it? If your getting into heaven depended on what your\ndressmaker knows about your religion, would you land? If your husband\nhad to gain admittance to heaven on the testimony of his stenographer,\ncould he do it? If his salvation depended on what his clerks tell about\nhim, would he get there? A man ought to be as religious in business as\nhe is in church. He ought to be as religious in buying and selling as\nhe is in praying.\n\n\"There are so many church members who are not even known in their own\nneighborhood as Christians. Out in Iowa where a meeting was held,\na man made up his mind that he would try to get an old sinner into\nthe Kingdom, and after chasing him around for three days he finally\ncornered him. Then he talked to that old fellow for two hours, and then\nthe old scoundrel stroked his whiskers, and what do you think he said?\n'Why, I've been a member of the church down there for fourteen years.'\nJust think of it! A member of the church fourteen years, and a man had\nto chase him three days, and talk with him two hours to find it out.\n\n\"You have let Jesus in? Yes, but you have put him in the spare-room.\nYou don't want him in the rooms where you live. Take him down into the\nliving-room. Take him into the dining-room. Take him into the parlor.\nTake him into the kitchen. Live with him. Make him one of the family.\"\n\nThen follows a Sundayesque description of how Jesus would find beer in\nthe refrigerator and throw it out; how he would find cards on the table\nand throw them out; how he would find nasty music on the piano and\nthrow it out; how he would find cigarettes and throw them out.\n\n\"If you haven't Jesus in the rooms you live in, it's because you don't\nwant him,\" he says. \"You're afraid of one of two things: you're afraid\nbecause of the things he'll throw out if he comes in, or you're afraid\nbecause of the things he'll bring with him if he comes in.\"\n\nHere is how a great newspaper, the Philadelphia _North American_,\ncharacterizes the ethical and political effectiveness of Mr. Sunday:\n\n Billy Sunday, derided by many as a sensational evangelist, has created\n a political revolution in Allegheny County. What years of reform work\n could not do he has wrought in a few short weeks. Old line \"practical\"\n politicians, the men who did the dirty work for the political gang,\n are now zealous for temperance, righteousness and religion.\n\n Judges on the bench, grand dames of society, millionaire business\n men, in common with the great host of undistinguished men and women\n in homes, mills, offices, and shops, have been fired by this amazing\n prophet with burning zeal for practical religion.\n\n An unexpected, unpredicted and unprecedented social force has been\n unleashed in our midst. Not to reckon with this is to be blind to\n the phase of Sunday's work which bulks larger than his picturesque\n vocabulary or his acrobatic earnestness.\n\nIn the presence of this man's work all attempts to classify religious\nactivities as either \"evangelistic\" or \"social service\" fall into\nconfusion.\n\nSunday could claim for himself that he's an evangelist, and an\nevangelist only. He repudiates a Christian program that is merely\npalliative or ameliorative. To his thinking the Church has more\nfundamental business than running soup kitchens or gymnasiums or oyster\nsuppers. All his peerless powers of ridicule are frequently turned upon\nthe frail and lonely oyster in the tureen of a money-making church\nsupper.\n\nNevertheless, the results of Sunday's preaching are primarily social\nand ethical. He is a veritable besom of righteousness sweeping\nthrough a community. The wife who neglects her cooking, mending and\nhome-making; the employer who does not deal squarely with his workers;\nthe rich man who rents his property for low purposes or is tied up in\ncrooked business in any wise; the workman who is not on \"his job\"; the\ngossip and the slanderer; the idle creatures of fashion; the Christian\nwho is not a good person to live with, the selfish, the sour, the\nunbrotherly--all these find themselves under the devastating harrow\nof this flaming preacher's biting, burning, excoriating condemnation.\n\"A scourge for morality\" is the way one minister described him; he is\nthat, and far more.\n\nAfter the whole field of philanthropy and reform have been traversed it\nstill remains true that the fundamental reform of all is the cleaning\nup of the lives and the lifting up of the ideals of the people. That\nis indisputably what Sunday does. He sweetens life and promotes a\nwholesome, friendly, helpful and cheerful state of mind on the part of\nthose whom he influences.\n\nAssuredly it is basic betterment to cause men to quit their drunkenness\nand lechery and profanity. All the white-slave or social-evil\ncommissions that have ever met have done less to put a passion for\npurity into the minds of men and women than this one man's preaching\nhas done. The safest communities in the country for young men and young\nwomen are those which have been through a Billy Sunday revival.\n\nOne cannot cease to exult at the fashion in which the evangelist makes\nthe Gospel synonymous with clean living. All the considerations that\nweigh to lead persons to go forward to grasp the evangelist's hand,\nalso operate to make them partisans of purity and probity.\n\nPut into three terse phrases, Sunday's whole message is: \"Quit your\nmeanness. Confess Christ. Get busy for him among men.\" There are no\nfinely spun spiritual sophistries in Sunday's preaching. He sometimes\nspeaks quite rudely of that conception of a \"higher spiritual life\"\nwhich draws Christians apart from the world in a self-complacent\nconsciousness of superiority.\n\nHis is not a mystical, meditative faith. It is dynamic, practical,\nimmediate. According to his ever-recurring reasoning, if one is not\npassing on the fruits of religion to somebody else--if one is not\nhitting hard blows at the devil or really doing definite tasks for God\nand the other man--then one has not the real brand of Christianity.\nSunday's preaching has hands, with \"punch\" to them, as well as lift;\nand feet, with \"kick\" in them, as well as ministry.\n\nLike a colliery mined on many levels, Sunday's preaching reaches\nall classes. Everybody can appreciate the social service value of\nconverting a gutter bum and making him a self-supporting workman. Is\nit any less social service to convert a man--I cite an actual instance\nfrom Pittsburgh--who had lately lost a twelve-thousand-dollar-a-year\nposition through dissipation, and so thoroughly to help him find\nhimself that before the meetings were over he was back in his old\noffice, once more drawing one thousand dollars a month?\n\nTo a student of these campaigns, it seems as if business has sensed,\nbetter than the preachers, the economic waste of sin.\n\nA careful and discriminating thinker, the Rev. Joseph H. Odell, D.D.,\nformerly pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church of Scranton, wrote an\nestimate of Billy Sunday and his work for _The Outlook_, in which he\nexplains why his church, which had been opposed to the coming of the\nevangelist, reversed its vote:\n\n Testimony, direct and cumulative, reached the ears of the same refined\n and reverent men and women. The young business men, even those from\n the great universities, paused to consider. The testimony that\n changed the attitudes of the Church came from judges, lawyers, heads\n of corporations and well-known society leaders in their respective\n communities. The testimony was phenomenally concurrent in this: that,\n while it did not endorse the revivalist's methods, or accept his\n theological system, or condone his roughness and rudeness, it proved\n that the preaching produced results.\n\n \"Produced results!\" Every one understood the phrase; in the\n business world it is talismanic. As the result of the Billy Sunday\n campaigns--anywhere and everywhere--drunkards became sober, thieves\n became honest, multitudes of people engaged themselves in the study\n of the Bible, thousands confessed their faith in Jesus Christ as the\n Saviour of the world, and all the quiescent righteousness of the\n community grew brave and belligerent against vice, intemperance,\n gambling, and political dishonesty.\n\n During the last week of February I went to Pittsburgh for the purpose\n of eliciting interest in the candidacy of J. Benjamin Dimmick for\n the nomination of United States Senator. Billy Sunday had closed his\n Pittsburgh campaign a few days earlier. My task was easy. A group of\n practical politicians met Mr. Dimmick at dinner. They were the men\n who had worked the wards of Allegheny County on behalf of Penrose\n and the liquor interests for years. Together they were worth many\n thousands of votes to any candidate; in fact, they were the political\n balance of power in that county. They knew everything that men could\n know about the ballot, and some things that no man should know.\n Solidly, resolutely, and passionately they repudiated Penrose. \"No one\n can get our endorsement in Allegheny County, even for the office of\n dog-catcher, who is not anti-booze and anti-Penrose,\" they asserted.\n When asked the secret of their crusader-like zeal against the alliance\n of liquor and politics, they frankly ascribed it to Billy Sunday; they\n had been born again--no idle phrase with them--in the vast whale-back\n tabernacle under the preaching of the baseball evangelist.\n\nBilly Sunday deals with the very springs of action; he seeks to help\nmen get right back to the furthermost motives of the mind. \"If you're\nborn again, you won't live knowingly in sin. This does not mean that a\nChristian cannot sin, but that he does not want to sin.\" This truth the\nevangelist illustrates by the difference between a hog and a sheep. The\nsheep may fall into the mud, but it hates it and scrambles out. A hog\nloves the mud and wallows in it.\n\nNobody can measure the results of the social forces which this\nsimple-thinking evangelist sets to work. His own figure of the dwarf\nwho could switch on the electric lights in a room as easily as a\ngiant, comes to mind. He has sent into Christian work men who can do\na kind of service impossible to Sunday himself. Thus, one of Sunday's\nconverts out in Wichita, two years ago, was Henry J. Allen, editor of\n_The Beacon_ and Progressive candidate for governor. Mr. Allen became\na member of one of the celebrated \"Gospel Teams,\" which, since the\nSunday meetings, have been touring Kansas and neighboring states and\nhave won more than eleven thousand converts. It was in a meeting held\nby this band that William Allen White, the famous editor, author and\npublisher, took a definite stand for Christ and Christian work. One of\nthe most interesting facts about Sunday's work is this one that the\nthree greatest editors in the State of Kansas today are his direct\nor indirect converts. An \"endless chain\" letter would be easier to\novertake than the effects of a Sunday revival campaign.\n\nIn the face of the mass of testimony of this sort is it any wonder\nthat business men deem a Sunday campaign worth all it costs, merely\nas an ethical movement? The quickest and cheapest way to improve\nmorals and the morale of a city is by a revival of religion. Thus\nit is illuminating to learn that there were 650 fewer inmates in\nthe Allegheny County jail, during the period of the Sunday revival\nmeetings, than during the same time in the preceding year.\n\nFrom Pittsburgh also comes the remarkable story that the Cambria\nSteel Company, one of the largest steel concerns in the country, has\nestablished a religious department in connection with its plant, and\nplaced a regularly ordained minister in charge of it. This as an avowed\nresult of the Sunday campaign.\n\nThe Rev. Dr. Maitland Alexander, D.D., pastor of the First Presbyterian\nChurch of Pittsburgh, is sponsor for this news, and he also\ndeclares that nine department stores of Pittsburgh are now holding\nprayer-meetings every morning at eight o'clock. These two statements\nare taken from Dr. Alexander's address to a body of ministers in New\nYork City. He is reported to have said also:\n\n Billy Sunday succeeded in moving the city of Pittsburgh from one\n end to the other. That, to my mind, was the greatest result of the\n meetings. It is easy to talk about religion now in Pittsburgh. Men\n especially are thinking of it as never before, and the great majority\n are no longer in the middle of the road. They are on one side or the\n other. I never knew a man who could speak to men with such telling\n effect as Billy Sunday. I covet his ability to make men listen to him.\n\n It was necessary in my own church, which when packed, holds 3200\n persons, to hold special meetings for different groups, such as\n lawyers, doctors, bankers, etc., and they were always crowded. In the\n big tabernacle, which was built for the campaign and holds more than\n 20,000 persons, the men from the big steel shops, after the second\n week, came in bodies of from one to three thousand, in many cases\n headed by their leading officers.\n\nDr. Alexander said that up to the time of this address the Sunday\ncampaign had added 419 members to his own church.\n\nOne of the striking consequences of the Sunday campaign in Scranton\nwas the development of the \"Garage Bible Class.\" This was originally\na Wilkes-Barre poker club. As the story was told by Mr. William\nAtherton, a Wilkes-Barre attorney, to the same New York meeting that\nDr. Alexander addressed, the Garage Bible Class was originally a group\nof wealthy men meeting at different homes every week for a poker game.\nOne man bet a friend fifteen dollars that he wouldn't go to hear Billy\nSunday. One by one, however, the men found themselves unable to resist\nthe lure of the Tabernacle. As a result the poker club was abandoned,\nand in a garage belonging to one of the men they organized a Bible\nclass which now has about a hundred members. They have adopted a rule\nthat no Christian shall be added to their ranks. They make their own\nChristians out of the unconverted.\n\nFrom this episode one gets some conception of the tug and pull of\nthe Sunday Tabernacle. The temptation to attend becomes well nigh\nirresistible. All the streams of the community life flow toward the\ngreat edifice where the baseball evangelist enunciates his simple\nmessage. A writer in _The Churchman_ said, following the Pittsburgh\ncampaign:\n\n This evangelist made religion a subject of ordinary conversation.\n People talked about their souls as freely as about their breakfast.\n He went into the homes of the rich, dropped his wildness of speech,\n and made society women cry with shame and contrition. One's eternal\n welfare became the topic of the dinner table, not only in the slums\n but in the houses of fashion. It sounds incredible, and it is not a\n fact to be grasped by the mere reading of it, but the citizens of\n Pittsburgh forgot to be ashamed to mention prayer and forgiveness of\n sin; the name of Christ began to be used with simpleness and readiness\n and reverence by men who, two months ago, employed it only as a\n by-word. City politicians came forward in the meeting and asked for\n prayer. The daily newspapers gave more space to salvation than they\n did to scandal, not for one day, but for day after day and week after\n week. As a mere spectacle of a whole modern city enthralled by the\n Gospel it was astonishing, unbelievable, unprecedented, prodigious.\n\nBecause he preaches both to employers and to employed, Sunday is able\nto apply the healing salt of the gospel at the point of contact between\nthe two. From Columbus it is reported that a number of business men\nvoluntarily increased the wages of their helpers, especially the women,\nbecause of the evangelist's utterances.\n\nA horse jockey out West reached the core of the matter when he said to\na friend of mine concerning Billy Sunday, \"He sets people to thinking\nabout other people.\" There you have the genesis and genius and goal of\nsocial service. No other force that operates among men is equal to the\ninspirations and inhibitions of the Christian religion in the minds of\nindividuals. The greatest service that can be done to any community is\nto set a considerable proportion of its people to endeavoring honestly\nto live out the ideals of Jesus Christ.\n\nIt is simply impossible to enumerate anything like a representative\nnumber of incidents of the community value of Billy Sunday's work. They\ncome from every angle and in the most unexpected ways. A banker, who\nis not a member of any church, showed me the other day a letter he had\nreceived from a man who had defrauded him out of a small sum of money\nyears before. The banker had never known anything about the matter\nand did not recall the man's name. What did amaze him, and set him to\nshowing the letter to all of his friends, was this man's restitution,\naccompanied by an outspoken testimony to his new discipleship to Jesus\nChrist, upon which he had entered at the inspiration of Billy Sunday.\n\nThe imagination is stirred by a contemplation of what these individual\ncases of regeneration imply. Consider the homes reunited; consider the\nhappy firesides that once were the scene of misery; measure, if you\ncan, the new joy that has come to tens of thousands of lives in the\nknowledge that they have given themselves unreservedly to the service\nof Jesus Christ.\n\nThe dramatic, human side of it strikes one ever and anon. I chanced\nto see a young man \"hit the trail\" at Scranton whose outreachings I\nhad later opportunity to follow. The young man is the only son of his\nparents and the hope of two converging family lines. Grandparents\nand parents, uncles and aunts, have pinned all of their expectations\non this one young man. He was a youth of parts and of force and a\npersonality in the community. When, on the night of which I write, he\ncame forward up the \"sawdust trail\" to grasp the evangelist's hand,\nhis aged grandfather and his mother wept tears of joy. The grandfather\nhimself also \"hit the trail\" at the Scranton meetings and has since\nspent his time largely in Christian work. It is impossible to say how\nthis young man's future might have spelled sorrow or joy for the family\ncircle that had concentrated their hopes on him. But now it is clear\nthat his conversion has brought to them all a boon such as money could\nnot have bought nor kings conferred.\n\nOne of the countless instances that may be gleaned in any field of\nSunday's sowing was related to me the other evening by a business man,\nwho, like others, became a protagonist of Sunday by going through one\nof his campaigns. In his city there was a cultivated, middle-aged\nGerman, a well-known citizen, who was an avowed atheist. He openly\nscoffed at religion. He was unable, however, to resist the allurement\nof the Sunday meetings, and he went with his wife one night merely to\n\"see the show.\" That one sermon broke down the philosophy of years, and\nthe atheist and his wife became converts of Billy Sunday. His three\nsons followed suit, so that the family of five adults were led into the\nChristian life by this evangelist untaught of the schools. One of the\nsons is now a member of the State Y. M. C. A. Committee.\n\nA western business man, who is interested in the Young Men's Christian\nAssociation, told me that one cold, rainy winter's day he happened\ninto the Association Building in Youngstown, Ohio. He found a crowd of\nmen streaming into a meeting, and because the day was so unpropitious,\nhe asked the character of the gathering. He was told that it was the\nregular meeting of the Christian Workers' Band, gathered to report\non the week's activities. The men had been converted to Christ, or\nto Christian work, by Billy Sunday, and their meeting had continued\never since, although it was more than a year since the evangelist's\npresence in Youngstown. Said my friend, \"That room was crowded. One\nafter another the men got up and told what definite Christian work they\nhad been doing in the previous seven days. The record was wonderful.\nThey had been holding all sorts of meetings in all sorts of places,\nand had been doing a variety of personal work besides, so that there\nwere a number of converts to be reported at this meeting I attended.\"\nTo have set that force in operation so that it would continue to work\nwith undiminished zeal after twelve months of routine existence, was a\ngreater achievement than to preach one of the Billy Sunday sermons.\n\nThere is a sufficient body of evidence to show that the work of Billy\nSunday does not end when the evangelist leaves the community. He has\ncreated a vogue for religion and for righteousness. The crowd spirit\nhas been called forth to the service of the Master. Young people and\nold have been given a new and overmastering interest in life. They have\nsomething definite to do for the world and a definite crowd with which\nto ally themselves.\n\nOne result has been a tremendous growth of Bible classes for men\nand women and a manifestation of the crusader spirit which makes\nitself felt in cleaned-up communities and in overthrown corruption in\npolitics. So far as the Billy Sunday campaigns may be said to have a\nbadge, it is the little red and white bull's eye of the Organized Adult\nBible Classes.\n\nSix months after the Scranton campaign five thousand persons attended\na \"Trail Hitters'\" picnic, where the day's events were scheduled under\ntwo headings, \"athletic\" and \"prayer.\" When wholesome recreation comes\nthus to be permeated with the spirit of clean and simple devotion\nsomething like an ideal state of society has come to pass for at least\none group of people.\n\nIn more ways than the one meant by his critics, Sunday's work is\nsensational. What could be more striking than the visit on Sunday,\nOctober 25, 1914, of approximately a thousand trail-hitters from\nScranton to the churches of Philadelphia, to help prepare them for\ntheir approaching Sunday campaign? Special trains were necessary to\nbring this great detachment of men the distance of three hundred miles.\nThey went forth in bands of four, being distributed among the churches\nof the city, to hold morning and evening services, and in the afternoon\nconducting neighborhood mass meetings. These men were by no means all\ntrained speakers, but they were witness-bearers; and their testimony\ncould scarcely fail to produce a powerful influence upon the whole\ncity. That, on a large scale, is what Sunday converts are doing in a\nmultitude of places.\n\nTo close this chapter as it began, the truth stands out that Billy\nSunday has set a host of people to thinking that this world's problems\nare to be solved, and its betterment secured, not by any new-fangled\nmethods, but along the old and tested line of transforming individual\ncharacters through the redeeming power of the crucified Son of God.\nSalvation is surest social service.\n\nThe great evangelist's sermons are filled with the life stories of the\nmen and women he has saved. The following is only one of many:\n\n\"I was at one time in a town in Nebraska and the people kept telling\nme about one man. 'There is one man here, if you can get him he is good\nfor one hundred men for Christ.' I said: 'Who is he?'\n\n\"'John Champenoy. He is the miller.' I said to Mr. Preston, who was\nthen a minister: 'Have you been to see him?' 'No.' I asked another\nminister if he had been to see the fellow and he said no. I asked the\nUnited Presbyterian preacher (they have a college out there), and he\nsaid no, he hadn't been around to see him.\n\n\"I said: 'Well, I guess I'll go around to see him.' I found the fellow\nseated in a chair teetered back against the wall, smoking. I said: 'Is\nthis Mr. Champenoy?' 'Yes, sir, that's my name.' He got up and took\nme by the hand. I said: 'My name is Sunday; I'm down at the church\npreaching. A good many have been talking to me about you and I came\ndown to see you and ask you to give your heart to God.' He looked at\nme, walked to the cupboard, opened the door, took out a half-pint flask\nof whisky and threw it out on a pile of stones.\n\n\"He then turned around, took me by the hand, and as the tears rolled\ndown his cheeks he said: 'I have lived in this town nineteen years and\nyou are the first man that has ever asked me to be a Christian.'\n\n\"He said: 'They point their finger at me and call me an old drunkard.\nThey don't want my wife around with their wives because her husband is\na drunkard. Their children won't play with our babies. They go by my\nhouse to Sunday school and church, but they never ask us to go. They\npass us by. I never go near the church. I am a member of the lodge. I\nam a Mason and I went to the church eleven years ago when a member of\nthe lodge died, but I've never been back and I said I never would go.'\n\n\"I said: 'You don't want to treat the Church that way. God isn't to\nblame, is he?'\n\n\"'No.'\n\n\"'The Church isn't to blame, is it?'\n\n\"'No.'\n\n\"'Christ isn't to blame?'\n\n\"'No.'\n\n\"'You wouldn't think much of me if I would walk up and slap your wife\nbecause you kept a dog I didn't like, would you? Then don't slap God in\nthe face because there are some hypocrites in the Church that you don't\nlike and who are treating you badly. God is all right. He never treated\nyou badly. Come up and hear me preach, will you, John?'\n\n\"'Yes, I'll come tonight.'\n\n\"I said: 'All right, the Lord bless you and I will pray for you.' He\ncame; the seats were all filled and they crowded him down the side\naisle. I can see him now standing there, with his hat in his hand,\nleaning against the wall looking at me. He never took his eyes off me.\nWhen I got through and gave the invitation he never waited for them to\nlet him out. He walked over the backs of the seats, took his stand for\nJesus Christ, and in less than a week seventy-eight men followed him\ninto the kingdom of God. They elected that man chairman of the civic\nfederation and he cleaned the town up for Jesus Christ and has led the\nhosts of righteousness from then until now. Men do care to talk about\nJesus Christ and about their souls. 'No man cares for my soul.' That's\nwhat's the trouble. They are anxious and waiting for some one to come.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nGiving the Devil His Due\n\n I know there is a devil for two reasons; first, the Bible declares it;\n and second I have done business with him.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nThe Prince of Darkness was no more real to Martin Luther, when he flung\nhis ink-well at the devil, than he is to Billy Sunday. He seems never\nlong out of the evangelist's thought. Sunday regards him as his most\npersonal and individual foe. Scarcely a day passes that he does not\ndirect his attention publicly to the devil. He addresses him and defies\nhim, and he cites Satan as a sufficient explanation for most of the\nworld's afflictions.\n\nThere are many delicate shadings and degrees and differentiations in\ntheology--but Billy Sunday does not know them. He never speaks in\nsemitones, nor thinks in a nebulous way. His mind and his word are at\none with his baseball skill--a swift, straight passage between two\npoints. With him men are either sheep or goats; there are no hybrids.\nTheir destination is heaven or hell, and their master is God or the\ndevil.\n\nHe believes in the devil firmly, picturesquely; and fights him without\nfear. His characterizations of the devil are hair-raising. As a matter\nof fact it is far easier for the average man, close down to the ruck\nand red realities of life, to believe in the devil, whose work he well\nknows, than it is for the cloistered man of books. The mass of the\npeople think in the same sort of strong, large, elemental terms as\nBilly Sunday. The niceties of language do not bother them; they are the\nmakers and users of that fluid speech called slang.\n\nWilliam A. Sunday is an elemental. Sophistication would spoil him. He\nis dead sure of a few truths of first magnitude. He believes without\nreservation or qualification in the Christ who saved him and reversed\nhis life's direction. Upon this theme he has preached to millions. Also\nhe is sure that there is a devil, and he rather delights in telling old\nSatan out loud what he thinks of him. Meanness, in Satan, sinner or\nsaint, he hates and says so in the language of the street, which the\ncommon people understand. He usually perturbs some fastidious folk who\nthink that literary culture and religion are essentially interwoven.\n\nExcoriation of the devil is not Sunday's masterpiece. He reaches his\nheight in exaltation of Jesus Christ. He is surer of his Lord than he\nis of the devil. It is his bed-rock belief that Jesus can save anybody,\nfrom the gutter bum to the soul-calloused, wealthy man of the world,\nand make them both new creatures. With heart tenderness and really\nyearning love he holds aloft the Crucified as the world's only hope.\nThat is why his gospel breaks hearts of stone and makes Bible-studying,\npraying church workers out of strange assortments of humanity.\n\nThe following passages will show how familiarly and frequently Sunday\ntreats of the devil:\n\n\n\"DEVIL\" PASSAGES\n\nThe devil isn't anybody's fool. You can bank on that. Plenty of folks\nwill tell you there isn't any devil--that he is just a figure of\nspeech; a poetic personification of the sin in our natures. People\nwho say that--and especially all the time-serving, hypocritical\nministers who say it--are liars. They are calling the Holy Bible a\nlie. I'll believe the Bible before I'll believe a lot of time-serving,\nsocietyfied, tea-drinking, smirking preachers. No, sir! You take God's\nword for it, there is a devil, and a big one, too.\n\nOh, but the devil is a smooth guy! He always was, and he is now. He is\nright on his job all the time, winter and summer. Just as he appeared\nto Christ in the wilderness, he is right in this tabernacle now,\ntrying to make you sinners indifferent to Christ's sacrifice for your\nsalvation. When the invitation is given, and you start to get up, and\nthen settle back into your seat, and say, \"I guess I don't want to give\nway to a temporary impulse,\" that's the real, genuine, blazing-eyed,\ncloven-hoofed, forked-tailed old devil, hanging to your coat tail. He\nknows all your weaknesses, and how to appeal to them.\n\nHe knows about you and how you have spent sixty dollars in the last\ntwo years for tobacco, to make your home and the streets filthy, and\nthat you haven't bought your wife a new dress in two years, because you\n\"can't afford it\"; and he knows about you, and the time and money you\nspend on fool hats and card parties, doing what you call \"getting into\nsociety,\" while your husband is being driven away from home by badly\ncooked meals, and your children are running on the streets, learning to\nbe hoodlums.\n\nAnd he knows about you, too, sir, and what you get when you go back\nof the drug-store prescription counter to \"buy medicine for your sick\nbaby.\" And he knows about you and the lie you told about the girl\nacross the street, because she is sweeter and truer than you are, and\nthe boys go to see her and keep away from you, you miserable thrower of\nslime, dug out of your own heart of envy--yes, indeed, the devil knows\nall about you.\n\nWhen the revival comes along and the Church of God gets busy, you will\nalways find the devil gets busy, too. Whenever you find somebody that\ndon't believe in the devil you can bank on it that he has a devil\nin him bigger than a woodchuck. When the Holy Spirit descended at\nPentecost the devil didn't do a thing but go around and say that these\nfellows were drunk, and Peter got up and made him mad by saying that it\nwas too early in the day. It was but the third hour. They had sense in\nthose days; it was unreasonable to find them drunk at the third hour of\nthe day. But now the fools sit up all night to booze.\n\nWhen you rush forward in God's work, the devil begins to rush against\nyou. There was a rustic farmer walking through Lincoln Park and he saw\nthe sign, \"Beware of pickpockets.\"\n\n\"What do they want to put up a fool sign like that? Everybody looks\nhonest to me.\" He reached for his watch to see what time it was and\nfound it was gone. The pickpockets always get in the pockets of those\nwho think there are no pickpockets around. Whenever you believe there\nis a devil around, you can keep him out, but if you say there isn't,\nhe'll get you sure.\n\nThe Bible says there is a devil; you say there is no devil. Who knows\nthe most, God or you? Jesus met a real foe, a personal devil. Reject it\nor deny it as you may. If there is no devil, why do you cuss instead of\npray? Why do you lie instead of telling the truth? Why don't you kiss\nyour wife instead of cursing her? You have just got the devil in you,\nthat is all.\n\nThe devil is no fool; he is onto his job. The devil has been practicing\nfor six thousand years and he has never had appendicitis, rheumatism\nor tonsilitis. If you get to playing tag with the devil he'll beat you\nevery clip.\n\nIf I knew that all the devils in hell and all the devils in Pittsburgh\nwere sitting out in the pews and sneering and jeering at me I'd shoot\nGod's truth into their carcasses anyway, and I propose to keep firing\naway at the devils until by and by they come crawling out of their\nholes and swear that they were never in them, but their old hides would\nassay for lead and tan for chair bottoms.\n\nMen in general think very little of the devil and his devices, yet he\nis the most formidable enemy the human race has to contend with. There\nis only one attitude to have toward him, and that is to hit him. Don't\npick up a sentence and smooth it and polish it and sugar-coat it, but\nshy it at him with all the rough corners on.\n\nThe devil has more sense than lots of little preachers.\n\nJesus said: \"It is written.\" He didn't get up and quote Byron and\nShakespeare. You get up and quote that stuff, and the devil will give\nyou the ha! ha! until you're gray-haired. Give him the Word of God, and\nhe will take the count mighty quick. \"It is written, thou shall not\ntempt the Lord thy God.\"\n\nDon't you ever think for a minute that the devil isn't on the job all\nthe time. He has been rehearsing for thousands of years, and when you\nfool around in his back yard he will pat you on the back and tell you\nthat you are \"IT.\"\n\nI'll fight the devil in my own way and I don't want people to growl\nthat I am not doing it right.\n\nThe devil comes to me sometimes. Don't think that because I am a\npreacher the devil doesn't bother me any. The devil comes around\nregularly, and I put on the gloves and get busy right away.\n\nI owe God everything; I owe the devil nothing except the best fight I\ncan put up against him.\n\nI assault the devil's stronghold and I expect no quarter and I give him\nnone.\n\n[Illustration: \"I AM AGAINST EVERYTHING THAT THE DEVIL IS IN FAVOR OF\"]\n\nI am in favor of everything the devil is against, and I am against\neverything the devil is in favor of--the dance, the booze, the brewery,\nmy friends that have cards in their homes. I am against everything that\nthe devil is in favor of, and I favor everything the devil is against,\nno matter what it is. If you know which side the devil is on, put me\ndown on the other side any time.\n\nHell is the highest reward that the devil can offer you for being a\nservant of his.\n\nThe devil's got a lot more sense than some of you preachers I know,\nand a lot of you old skeptics, who quote Shakespeare and Carlyle and\nEmerson and everybody and everything rather than the Bible.\n\nWhen you hear a preacher say that he doesn't believe there is a devil,\nyou can just bet your hat that he never preaches repentance. The men\nwho do any preaching on repentance know there is a devil, for they hear\nhim roar.\n\nI drive the same kind of nails all orthodox preachers do. The only\ndifference is that they use a tack hammer and I use a sledge.\n\nThe preacher of today who is a humanitarian question point is preaching\nto empty benches.\n\nI do not want to believe and preach a lie. I would rather believe\nand preach a truth, no matter how unpleasant it is, than to believe\nand preach a pleasant lie. I believe there is a hell. If I didn't I\nwouldn't have the audacity to stand up here and preach to you. If\nthere ever comes a time when I don't believe in hell I will leave the\nplatform before I will ever preach a sermon with that unbelief in\nmy heart. I would rather believe and preach a truth, no matter how\nunpleasant, than to believe and preach a lie simply for the friendship\nand favor of some people.\n\nThe man that preaches the truth is your friend. I have no desire to be\nany more broad or liberal than Jesus, not a whit, and nobody has any\nright, either, and claim to be a preacher. Is a man cruel that tells\nyou the truth? The man that tells you there is no hell is the cruel\nman, and the man that tells you there is a hell is your friend. So it's\na kindness to point out the danger. God's ministers have no business to\nhold back the truth.\n\nI don't believe you can remember when you heard a sermon on hell.\nWell, you'll hear about hell while I am here. God Almighty put hell\nin the Bible and any preacher that sidesteps it because there are\npeople sitting in the pews who don't like it, ought to get out of the\npulpit. He is simply trimming his sails to catch a passing breeze of\npopularity.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nCritics and Criticism\n\n Some preachers need the cushions of their chairs upholstered oftener\n than they need their shoes half-soled.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nIt is only when the bull's eye is hit that the bell rings. The preacher\nwho never gets a roar out of the forces of unrighteousness may well\nquestion whether he is shooting straight. One of the most significant\ntributes to the Evangelist Sunday is the storm of criticism which rages\nabout his head. It is clear that at least he and his message are not a\nnegligible quantity.\n\nThis book certainly holds no brief for the impeccability and\ninvulnerability of Billy Sunday. Yet we cannot be blind to the fact he\nhas created more commotion in the camp of evil than any other preacher\nof his generation. Christians are bound to say \"We love him for the\nenemies he has made.\" He hits harder at all the forces that hurt\nhumanity and hinder godliness than any other living warrior of God.\n\nThe forces of evil pay Billy Sunday the compliment of an elaborately\norganized and abundantly financed assault upon him. He is usually\npreceded and followed in his campaigns by systematic attacks which aim\nto undermine and discredit him. A weekly paper, issued in Chicago,\nappears to be devoted wholly to the disparaging of Billy Sunday.\n\nIn rather startling juxtaposition to that statement is the other that\nmany ministers have publicly attacked Sunday. This is clearly within\ntheir right. He is a public issue and fairly in controversy. As he\nclaims the right of free speech for himself he cannot deny it to\nothers. Some of his critics among the clergy object to evangelism in\ngeneral, some to his particular methods, some to his forms of speech,\nsome to his theology; but nobody apparently objects to his results.\n\nDuring the past year there has arisen a tendency to abate this storm of\nclerical criticism, for it has been found that it is primarily serving\nthe enemies of the Church. Whatever Billy Sunday's shortcomings, he is\nunquestionably an ally of the Kingdom of Heaven and an enemy of sin.\nHis motives and his achievements are both aligned on the side of Christ\nand his Church. A host of ministers of fine judgment who are grieved by\nsome of the evangelist's forms of speech and some of his methods, have\nyet withheld their voices from criticism because they do not want to\nfire upon the Kingdom's warriors from the rear. Sunday gets results for\nGod; therefore, reason they, why should we attack him?\n\nThere is another side to this shield of criticism. There is no\nreligious leader of our day who has such a host of ardent defenders\nand supporters as Billy Sunday. The enthusiasm of myriads for this man\nis second only to their devotion to Christ. Wherever he goes he leaves\nbehind him a militant body of protagonists. He is championed valiantly\nand fearlessly.\n\nSo vigorous is this spirit which follows in the wake of a Sunday\ncampaign that in a certain large city where the ministers of one\ndenomination had publicly issued a statement disapproving of Mr.\nSunday, their denomination has since suffered seriously in public\nestimation.\n\nSome anonymous supporter of Billy Sunday has issued a pamphlet made\nup exclusively of quotations from Scripture justifying Sunday and his\nmessage. He quotes such pertinent words as these:\n\n And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of\n speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God.\n\n For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ,\n and him crucified.\n\n And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.\n\n And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man's\n wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power;\n\n That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the\n power of God.\n\n For Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel: not with\n wisdom of words, lest the cross of Christ should be made of none\n effect.\n\n For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but\n unto us which are saved it is the power of God.\n\n For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will\n bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.\n\n Where is the wise? where is the scribe? where is the disputer of this\n world? hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?\n\n For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God,\n it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that\n believe.\n\n For the Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom:\n\n But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and\n unto the Greeks foolishness;\n\n But unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power\n of God, and the wisdom of God.\n\n Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of\n God is stronger than men.\n\n For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after\n the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called:\n\n But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the\n wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the\n things which are mighty;\n\n And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God\n chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that\n are.\n\nA great marvel is that this unconventional preacher has enlisted among\nhis supporters a host of intellectual and spiritual leaders of our\ntime. The churches of the country, broadly speaking, are for him, and\nso are their pastors. This might be attributed to partisanship, for\ncertainly Sunday is promoting the work of the Church; but what is to\nbe said when Provost Edgar F. Smith of the University of Pennsylvania\ncomes out in an unqualified endorsement of the man and his work; or\nsuch an acute lawyer and distinguished churchman as George Wharton\nPepper of Philadelphia, well known in the councils of the Protestant\nEpiscopal Church, gives his hearty approval to Sunday?\n\nConsider the letter which Secretary of State Bryan wrote to Sunday\nafter hearing him at the Pittsburgh Tabernacle:\n\n\nTHE SECRETARY OF STATE.\n\n  Washington, January 12, 1914.\n\n MY DEAR SUNDAY: Having about four hours in Pittsburgh last night,\n my wife and I attended your meeting and so we heard and felt the\n powerful sermon which you delivered. We noted the attention of that\n vast audience and watched the people, men and women, old and young,\n who thronged about you in response to your appeal. Mrs. Bryan had\n never heard you, and I had heard only a short afternoon address. Last\n night you were at your best. I cannot conceive of your surpassing that\n effort in effectiveness.\n\n Do not allow yourself to be disturbed by criticism. God is giving you\n souls for your hire and that is a sufficient answer. Christ called\n attention to the fact that both he and John the Baptist had to meet\n criticism because they were so much unlike in manner. No man can\n do good without making enemies, but yours as a rule will be among\n those who do not hear you. Go on, and may the Heavenly Father use\n you for many years to come, as he has for many years past, and bring\n multitudes to know Christ as he presented himself when he said, \"I am\n the way, the truth and the life.\"\n\n Am sorry we could not see you personally, but we left because we found\n that we were discovered. Some insisted upon shaking hands and I was\n afraid I might become a cause of disturbance. Mrs. Bryan joins me in\n regards to Mrs. Sunday and yourself.\n\n  Yours truly,\n  W. J. BRYAN.\n\nOne need be surprised at nothing in connection with such a personality\nas Billy Sunday, yet surely there is no precedent for this resolution,\nadopted by the Pittsburgh City Council, while he was in that city:\n\n WHEREAS, The Rev. William A. Sunday and his party have been in the\n city of Pittsburgh for the past eight weeks, conducting evangelistic\n services, and the Council of the city being convinced of the immense\n good which has been accomplished through his work for morality, good\n citizenship and religion, therefore be it\n\n _Resolved_, That the Council of the city of Pittsburgh express its\n utmost confidence in Mr. Sunday and all of the members of his party;\n and be it further\n\n _Resolved_, That it does hereby express to them its appreciation of\n all the work that has been done, and extends to Mr. Sunday its most\n cordial wishes for his future success.\n\nWhile the adverse critics are doing all in their power to discredit him\nas he goes from place to place, Sunday's friends also are not idle. In\nScranton, for instance, before the campaign opened, men in nearly all\nwalks of life received letters from men in corresponding callings in\nPittsburgh bearing tribute to Billy Sunday. Thus, bankers would inclose\nin their correspondence from Pittsburgh an earnest recommendation of\nSunday and a suggestion that the bankers of Scranton stand squarely to\nhis support. The local Scranton plumber heard from a plumbers' supply\nhouse; labor union men heard from their fellows in Pittsburgh; lawyers\nand doctors, and a host of business men, had letters from personal\nfriends in Pittsburgh, telling what Sunday had done for that community,\nand in many cases bearing personal testimony to what his message had\nmeant to the writers.\n\nThis is nearer to effective organization than the Christian forces of\nthe country commonly get. This form of propaganda did not bulk large in\nthe public eye, but it created a splendid undercurrent of sentiment;\nfor Banker Jones could say: \"I have it straight from Banker Smith of\nPittsburgh, whom I know to be a level-headed man, that Sunday is all\nright, and that he does nothing but good for the city.\"\n\nStill more novel than this was the expedition sent by a great daily\nnewspaper to hear the evangelist in Scranton. There is no parallel\nin the history of Christian work for the deputation of more than\ntwo hundred pastors who went to Scranton from Philadelphia. These\nwent entirely at the charges of the Philadelphia _North American_,\nbeing carried in special trains. The railroad company recognized the\nsignificance of this unusual occasion, and both ways the train broke\nrecords for speed.\n\nWhile in the city of Scranton the ministers were the guests of the\nScranton churches. They had special space reserved for them in the\nTabernacle and their presence drew the greatest crowds that were\nexperienced during the Scranton campaign. Of course thousands were\nturned away. Nobody who saw and heard it will ever forget the way that\nsolid block of Philadelphia pastors stood up and sang in mighty chorus\n\"I Love to Tell the Story.\"\n\nBetween sessions these Philadelphia ministers were visiting their\nbrethren in Scranton, learning in most detailed fashion what the\neffects of the Sunday campaign had been. Whenever they gathered in\npublic assemblies they sounded the refrain, which grew in significance\nfrom day to day: \"I Love to Tell the Story.\" Billy Sunday fired the\nevangelistic purpose of these pastors.\n\nWhen this unique excursion was ended, and the company had de-trained at\nthe Reading Terminal, the ministers, without pre-arrangement, gathered\nin a body in the train shed and lifted their voices in the refrain \"I\nLove to Tell the Story,\" while hundreds and thousands of hurrying city\nfolk, attracted by the unwonted music, gathered to learn what this\ncould possibly mean.\n\nA new militancy was put into the preaching of these clergymen by their\nScranton visit; and many of them later reported that the largest\ncongregations of all their ministerial experience were those which\ngathered to hear them report on the Sunday evangelistic campaign. Not a\nfew of the preachers had to repeat their Billy Sunday sermons. Needless\nto say, an enthusiastic and urgent invitation to Sunday to come to\nPhiladelphia to conduct a campaign, followed this demonstration on the\npart of the daily newspaper.\n\nThat there is a strategic value in rallying all the churches about\none man was demonstrated by the Methodists of Philadelphia on this\noccasion. Bishop Joseph F. Berry had heartily indorsed the project,\nand had urged all of the Methodist pastors who could possibly do so\nto accept the _North American's_ invitation. The Methodist delegation\nwas an enthusiastic unit. When they returned to Philadelphia a special\nissue of the local Methodist paper was issued, and in this thirty-two\narticles appeared, each written by an aroused pastor who had been\na member of the delegation. Incidentally, all of the city papers,\nas well as the religious press of a very wide region, reported this\nextraordinary pilgrimage of more than two hundred pastors to a distant\ncity to hear an evangelist preach the gospel. A reflex of this was the\nreturn visit, some months later, of a thousand \"trail-hitters\" to speak\nin Philadelphia pulpits.\n\nBefore leaving the subject of the criticism of Sunday, pro and con, it\nshould be insisted that no public man or institution should be free\nfrom the corrective power of public opinion, openly expressed. This is\none of the wholesome agencies of democracy. Mr. Sunday himself is not\nslow to express his candid opinion of the Church, the ministry, and of\nsociety at large. It would be a sad day for him should all critical\njudgment upon his work give way to unreasoning adulation.\n\nThe best rule to follow in observing the evangelist's ministry is,\n\"Never judge unfinished work.\" Only a completed campaign should pass\nin review before the critics; only the whole substance of the man's\nmessage; only the entire effect of his work upon the public. Partial\njudgments are sure to be incorrect judgments.\n\nBilly Sunday succeeds in making clear to all his hearers--indeed he\nimpresses them so deeply that the whole city talks of little else for\nweeks--that God has dealings with every man; and that God cares enough\nabout man to provide for him a way of escape from the terrible reality\nof sin, that way being Jesus Christ.\n\nWhen a preacher succeeds in lodging that conviction in the minds of\nthe multitudes, he is heaven's messenger. Whether he speak in Choctaw,\nYiddish, Bostonese or in the slang of Chicago, is too trivial a matter\nto discuss. We do not inspect the wardrobe or the vocabulary of the\nhero who rides before the flood, urging the people to safety in the\nhills.\n\n\nPLAIN SPEECH FROM SUNDAY HIMSELF\n\nThe hour is come; come for something else. It has come for plainness of\nspeech on the part of the preacher. If you have anything to antagonize,\nout with it; specify sins and sinners. You can always count on a decent\npublic to right a wrong, and any public that won't right a wrong is a\ngood one to get out of.\n\nCharles Finney went to Europe to preach, and in London a famous\nfree-thinker's wife went to hear him. The free-thinker's wife noticed a\ngreat change in him; he was more kind, more affectionate, more affable,\nless abusive and she said, \"I know what is the matter with you; you\nhave been to hear that man from America preach.\" And he said, \"Wife,\nthat is an insult; that man Finney don't preach; he just makes plain\nwhat the other fellows preach.\" Now the foremost preacher of his day\nwas Paul. What he preached of his day was not so much idealism as\npracticality; not so much theology, homiletics, exegesis or didactics,\nbut a manner of life. I tell you there was no small fuss about his way\nof teaching. When Paul was on the job the devil was awake. There is a\nkind of preaching that will never arouse the devil.\n\n\"He that believeth not is condemned already.\" He that has not believed\nin Jesus Christ, the only begotten son of God, is condemned where he\nsits.\n\nToo much of the preaching of today is too nice; too pretty; too\ndainty; it does not kill. Too many sermons are just given for literary\nexcellence of the production. They get a nice adjective or noun, or\npronoun--you cannot be saved by grammar. A little bit of grammar is all\nright, but don't be a big fool and sit around and criticize because the\npreacher gets a word wrong--if you do that your head is filled with\nbuck oysters and sawdust, if that is all that you can use it for.\n\nThey've been crying peace. There is no peace. Some people won't come\nto hear me because they are afraid to hear the truth. They want\ndeodorized, disinfected sermons. They are afraid to be stuck over the\nedge of the pit and get a smell of the brimstone. You can't get rid of\nsin as long as you treat it as a cream puff instead of a rattlesnake.\nYou can't brush sin away with a feather duster. Go ask the drunkard\nwho has been made sober whether he likes \"Bill.\" Go ask the girl who\nwas dragged from the quagmire of shame and restored to her mother's\narms whether she likes \"Bill.\" Go ask the happy housewife who gets the\npay envelope every Saturday night instead of its going to the filthy\nsaloon-keeper whether she's for \"Bill.\" Some people say, \"Oh, he's\nsensational.\" Nothing would be more sensational than if some of you\nwere suddenly to become decent. I would rather be a guide-post than a\ntombstone.\n\nI repeat that everybody who is decent or wants to be decent, will\nadmire you when you preach the truth, although you riddle them when\nyou do it. The hour is come, my friend. The hour is come to believe in\na revival. Some people do not believe in revivals; neither does the\ndevil; so you are like your daddy.\n\nI can see those disciples praying, and talking and having a big time.\nThere are many fool short-sighted ministers who are satisfied if they\ncan only draw a large crowd. Some are as crazy after sensations as the\nyellowest newspaper that ever came off the press. That's the reason we\nhave these sermons on \"The Hobble Skirt\" and \"The Merry Widow Hat\" and\nother such nonsensical tommyrot. If there were not so many March-hare\nsort of fellows breaking into pulpits you would have to sweat more and\nwork harder. There are some of you that have the devil in you. Maybe\nyou don't treat your wife square. Maybe you cheat in your weights. Get\nrid of the devil. What does it matter if you pack a church to the roof\nif nothing happens to turn the devil pale? What is the use of putting\nchairs in the aisles and out the doors?\n\nThe object of the Church is to cast out devils.\n\nThe devil has more sense than lots of little preachers. I have been\nunfortunate enough to know D.D.'s and LL.D.'s sitting around whittling\ndown the doctrine of the personality of the devil to as fine a point\nas they know how. You are a fool to listen to them. The devil is no\nfool, he is no four-flusher. He said to Christ: \"If you are a God, act\nlike it; if you are a man, and believe the Scriptures, act as one who\nbelieves.\"\n\nJohn the Baptist wasn't that kind of a preacher. Jesus Christ\nwasn't that kind of a preacher. The apostles weren't that kind of\npreachers--except old Judas. John the Baptist opened the Bible right\nin the middle and preached the word of God just as he found it, and\nhe didn't care whether the people liked it or not. That wasn't his\nbusiness. I tell you, John the Baptist stirred up the devil. If any\nminister doesn't believe in a personal devil it's because he has never\npreached a sermon on repentance, or he'd have heard him roar. Yes, sir.\nIf there's anything that will make the devil roar it is a sermon on\nrepentance.\n\nYou can preach sociology, or psychology, or any other kind of ology,\nbut if you leave Jesus Christ out of it you hit the toboggan slide to\nhell.\n\nI'll preach against any minister who is preaching false doctrines. I\ndon't give a rap who he is. I'll turn my guns loose against him, and\ndon't you forget that. Any man who is preaching false doctrines to the\npeople and vomiting out false doctrines to them will hear from me. I\nwant to say that the responsibility for no revivals in our cities and\ntowns has got to be laid at the doors of the ministry. Preachers sit\nfighting their sham battles of different denominations, through their\ncussedness, inquiring into fol-da-rol and tommyrot, and there sits\nin the pews of the church that miserable old scoundrel who rents his\nproperty out for a saloon and is going to hell; and that other old\nscoundrel who rents his houses for houses of ill fame and is living\ndirectly on the proceeds of prostitution, and he doesn't preach against\nit. He is afraid he will turn the men against him. He is afraid of his\njob. They are a lot of backsliders and the whole bunch will go to hell\ntogether. They are afraid to come out against it.\n\nI'll tell you what's the matter. Listen to me. The Church of\nGod has lost the spirit of concern today largely because of the\nministry--that's what's the matter with them. I'll allow no man or\nwoman to go beyond me in paying tribute to culture. I don't mean this\nmiserable \"dog\" business, shaking hands with two fingers. The less\nbrains some people have the harder they try to show you that they have\nsome, or think they have. I allow no man to go beyond me in paying\ntribute to real, genuine culture, a tribute to intellectual greatness;\nbut when a man stands in the pulpit to preach he has got to be a man of\nGod. He has got to speak with the passion for souls. If you sleep in\nthe time of a revival God Almighty will wake you up.\n\nThere are lots of preachers who don't know Jesus. They know about him,\nbut they don't know him. Experience will do more than forty million\ntheories. I can experiment with religion just the same as I can with\nwater. No two knew Him exactly alike, but all loved Him. All would have\nsomething to say.\n\nNow for you preachers. When a man prays \"Thy Kingdom Come\" he will read\nthe Bible to find out the way to make it come. The preacher who prays\n\"Thy Kingdom Come\" will not get all his reading from the new books or\nfrom the magazines. He will not try to please the highbrows and in\npleasing them miss the masses. He will not try to tickle the palates\nof the giraffes and then let the sheep starve. He will put his cookies\non the lower shelf. He will preach in a language that the commonest\nlaborer can understand.\n\nOne of the prolific sources of unbelief and backsliding today is\na bottle-fed church, where the whole membership lets the preacher\ndo the studying of the Bible for them. He will go to the pulpit\nwith his mind full of his sermon and they will come to the church\nwith their minds filled with society and last night's card-playing,\nbeer-and-wine-drinking and novel-reading party and will sit there half\nasleep. Many a preacher reminds me of a great big nursing bottle, and\nthere are two hundred or three hundred rubber tubes, with nipples on\nthe end, running into the mouths of two hundred or three hundred or\nfour hundred great big old babies with whiskers and breeches on, and\nhair pins stuck in their heads and rats in their hair, sitting there,\nand they suck and draw from the preacher. Some old sister gets the\n\"Amusement\" nipple in her mouth and it sours her stomach, and up go her\nheels and she yells. Then the preacher has to go around and sing psalms\nto that big two-hundred-and-fifty-pound baby and get her good-natured\nso that she will go back to church some day.\n\nBy and by some old whisky-voting church member gets the \"Temperance\"\nnipple in his mouth and it sours his stomach and up go his heels and\nhe lets out a yell, throws his hands across his abdominal region, and\nthe preacher says, \"Whatever is the matter? If I hit you any place but\nthe heart or the head I apologize.\" The preacher has to be wet nurse to\nabout two hundred and fifty big babies that haven't grown an inch since\nthey came into the church.\n\nOne reason why some preachers are not able to bring many sinners\nto repentance is because they preach of a God so impotent that he\ncan only throw down card houses when all the signs are right! They\ndecline to magnify his power for fear they will overdo it! And if they\naccidentally make a strong assertion as to his power, they immediately\nneutralize it by \"as it were,\" or \"in a measure, perhaps!\"\n\n[Illustration: \"WE'VE GOT A BUNCH OF PREACHERS BREAKING THEIR NECKS TO\nPLEASE A LOT OF OLD SOCIETY DAMES\"]\n\nYou make a man feel as though God was stuck on him and you'll be a\nthirty-third degree sort of a preacher with that fellow.\n\nIf some preachers were as true to their trust as John the Baptist,\nthey might be turned out to grass, but they'd lay up treasures for\nthemselves in heaven.\n\nClergymen will find their authority for out-of-the-ordinary methods in\nthe lowering of a paralytic through a roof, as told of in the Bible. If\nthat isn't sensationalism, then trot some out.\n\nIf God could convert the preachers the world would be saved. Most of\nthem are a lot of evolutionary hot-air merchants.\n\nWe've got churches, lots of them. We've got preachers, seminaries, and\nthey are turning out preachers and putting them into little theological\nmolds and keeping them there until they get cold enough to practice\npreaching.\n\nThe reason some ministers are not more interested in their work is\nbecause they fail to realize that theirs is a God-given mission.\n\nWe've got a bunch of preachers breaking their necks to please a lot of\nold society dames.\n\nSome ministers say, \"If you don't repent, you'll die and go to a place,\nthe name of which I can't pronounce.\" I can. You'll go to hell.\n\nThere is not a preacher on earth that can preach a better gospel than\n\"Bill.\" I'm willing to die for the Church. I'm giving my life for the\nChurch.\n\nYour preachers would fight for Christ if some of you fossilated,\nantiquated old hypocrites didn't snort and snarl and whine.\n\nA godless cowboy once went to a brown-stone church--with a high-toned\npreacher--I am a half-way house between the brown-stone church and the\nSalvation Army. They are both needed and so is the half-way house.\nWell, this fellow went to one of these brown-stone churches and after\nthe preacher had finished the cowboy thought he had to go up and\ncompliment the preacher, as he saw others doing, and so he sauntered\ndown the aisle with his sombrero under his arm, his breeches stuck in\nhis boots, a bandana handkerchief around his neck, his gun and bowie\nknife in his belt, and he walked over and said: \"Hanged if I didn't\nfight shy of you fellows--but I'll tell you I sat here and listened to\nyou for an hour and you monkeyed less with religion than any fellow I\never heard in my life.\" They have taken away the Lord and don't know\nwhere to find him.\n\nYou must remember that Jesus tells us to shine for God. The trouble\nwith some people and preachers is that they try to shine rather than\nletting their light shine. Some preachers put such a big capital \"I\"\nin front of the cross that the sinner can't see Jesus. They want the\nglory. They would rather be a comet than stars of Bethlehem.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nA Clean Man on Social Sins\n\n There are a good many things worse than living and dying an old maid,\n and one of them is marrying the wrong man.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nSunday's trumpet gives no uncertain sound on plain, every-day\nrighteousness. He is like an Old Testament prophet in his passion for\nclean conduct. No phase of his work is more notable than the zeal for\nright living which he leaves behind him. His converts become partisans\nof purity.\n\nSunday's own mind is clean. He does not, as is sometimes the case, make\nhis pleas for purity a real ministry of evil. In the guise of promoting\npurity he does not pander to pruriency. As outspoken as the Bible upon\nsocial sin, he yet leaves an impression so chaste that no father would\nhesitate to take his boy to the big men's meeting which Sunday holds in\nevery campaign; and every woman who has once heard him talk to women\nwould be glad to have her daughter hear him also.\n\nThe verdict of all Christians who have studied conditions in a\ncommunity after one of the Sunday campaigns is that Sunday has been\nlike a thunder storm that has cleared the moral atmosphere. Life is\nsweeter and safer and more beautiful for boys and girls after this man\nhas dealt plainly with social sins and temptations. Of course, it is\nmore important to clean up a neighborhood's mind than its streets.\n\nEven in cold print one may feel somewhat of the power of the man's\nmessage on \"The Moral Leper.\"\n\n\nA PLAIN TALK TO MEN\n\n\"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in\nthe days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the\nsight of thine eyes: but know thou that for all these things God will\nbring thee into judgment.\"\n\n\"Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth that\nshall he also reap.\"\n\nIn other words, do just as you please; lie if you want to, steal if you\nwant to. God won't stop you, but he will hold you responsible in the\nend. Do just as you please until the end comes and the undertaker comes\nalong and pumps the embalming fluid into you and then you are all in.\n\nNo one is living in ignorance of what will become of him if he does not\ngo right and trot square. He knows there is a heaven for the saved and\na hell for the damned, and that's all there is to it.\n\nMany men start out on a life of pleasure. Please remember two things.\nFirst, pleasure soon has an end, and, second, there is a day of\njudgment coming and you'll get what's coming to you. God gives every\nman a square deal.\n\nIf a man stood up and told me he was going to preach on the things I am\nthis afternoon, I'd want him to answer me several questions, and if he\ncould do that I'd tell him to go ahead.\n\nFirst--Are you kindly disposed toward me?\n\nSecond--Are you doing this to help me?\n\nThird--Do you know what you're talking about?\n\nFourth--Do you practice what you preach?\n\nThat's fair. Well, for the first. God knows I am kindly disposed toward\nyou. Second, God knows I would do anything in my power to help you be a\nbetter man. I want to make it easier for you to be square, and harder\nfor you to go to hell. Third, I know what I'm talking about, for I\nhave the Bible to back me up in parts and the statements of eminent\nphysicians in other parts. And fourth, \"Do I practice what I preach?\" I\nwill defy and challenge any man or woman on earth, and I'll look any\nman in the eye and challenge him, in the twenty-seven years I have\nbeen a professing Christian, to show anything against me. If I don't\nlive what I preach, gentlemen, I'll leave the pulpit and never walk\nback here again. I live as I preach and I defy the dirty dogs who have\ninsulted me and my wife and spread black-hearted lies and vilifications.\n\nI was born and bred on a farm and at the age of eleven I held my place\nwith men in the harvest field. When I was only nine years old I milked\nten cows every morning. I know what hard knocks are. I have seen the\nseamy side of life. I have crawled out of the sewers and squalor and\nwant. I have struggled ever since I was six years old, an orphan son of\na dead soldier, up to this pulpit this afternoon. I know what it is to\ngo to bed with an honest dollar in my overalls pocket, when the Goddess\nof Liberty became a Jenny Lind and the eagle on the other side became a\nnightingale and they'd sing a poor, homeless orphan boy to sleep. I'm\nnot here to explode hot air and theories to you.\n\nSome men here in town, if their wives asked them if they were coming\ndown here, would say: \"Oh no, I don't want to go anywhere I can't take\nyou, dear.\" The dirty old dogs, they've been many a place they wouldn't\ntake their wife and they wouldn't even let her know they were there.\n\nIf sin weren't so deceitful it wouldn't be so attractive. The effects\nget stronger and stronger while you get weaker and weaker all the time,\nand there is less chance of breaking away.\n\nMany think a Christian has to be a sort of dish-rag proposition, a\nwishy-washy, sissified sort of a galoot that lets everybody make a\ndoormat out of him. Let me tell you the manliest man is the man who\nwill acknowledge Jesus Christ.\n\n\nChristian Character\n\nChristianity is the capital on which you build your character. Don't\nyou let the devil fool you. You never become a man until you become a\nChristian. Christianity is the capital on which you do business. It's\nyour character that gets you anything. Your reputation is what people\nsay about you, but your character is what God and your wife and the\nangels know about you. Many have reputations of being good, but their\ncharacters would make a black mark on a piece of coal or tarred paper.\n\nI was over in Terre Haute, Indiana, not long ago, and I was in a bank\nthere admiring the beauty of it when the vice-president, Mr. McCormick,\na friend of mine, said: \"Bill, you haven't seen the vault yet,\" and\nhe opened up the vaults there, carefully contrived against burglars,\nand let me in. There were three, and I wandered from one to another.\nNo one watched me. I could have filled my pockets with gold or silver,\nbut no one watched me. Why did they trust me? Because they knew I was\npreaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, and living up to it. That's why\nthey trusted me. There was a time in my life when a man wouldn't trust\nme with a yellow dog on a corner fifteen minutes.\n\nBefore I was converted I could go five rounds so fast you couldn't see\nme for the dust, and I'm still pretty handy with my dukes and I can\nstill deliver the goods with all express charges prepaid. Before I was\nconverted I could run one hundred yards in ten seconds and circle the\nbases in fourteen seconds, and I could run just as fast after I was\nconverted. So you don't have to be a dish-rag proposition at all.\n\nWhen a person's acts affect only himself they can be left to the\nconscience of the individual, but when they affect others the law steps\nin. When a child has diphtheria, you are not allowed personal liberty;\nyou are quarantined, because your personal liberty could endanger\nothers if exercised. So you haven't any right to live in sin. You say\nyou'll do it anyhow. All right, you'll go to hell, too. Adam and Eve\nsaid they would eat the apple anyhow, and the world became a graveyard,\nand here's the result today.\n\nI look out into the world and see a man living in sin. I argue with\nhim, I plead with him. I cry out warning words. I brand that man with a\nblack brand, whose iniquities are responsible for the fall of others.\n\nNo man lives to himself alone. I hurt or help others by my life. When\nyou go to hell you're going to drag some one else down with you and if\nyou go to heaven you're going to take some one else with you. You say\nyou hate sin. Of course you do if you have self-respect. But you never\nsaw anyone who hates sin worse than I do, or loves a sinner more than\nI. I'm fighting for the sinners. I'm fighting to save your soul, just\nas a doctor fights to save your life from a disease. I'm your friend,\nand you'll find that I'll not compromise one bit with sin. I'll do\nanything to help you. No man will argue that sin is a good thing. Not\na one who does not believe that the community would be better off if\nthere was no sin. I preach against vice to show you that it will make\nyour girl an outcast and your boy a drunkard. I'm fighting everything\nthat will lead to this and if I have to be your enemy to fight it, God\npity you, for I'm going to fight. People do not fight sin until it\nbecomes a vice.\n\nYou say you're not afraid of sin. You ought to be, for your children.\nIt doesn't take boys long to get on the wrong track, and while you\nare scratching gravel to make one lap, your boy makes ten. We've got\nkids who have not yet sprouted long breeches who know more about sin\nand vice than Methuselah. There are little frizzled-top sissies not\nyet sprouting long dresses who know more about vice than did their\ngreat-grandmothers when they were seventy-five years old. The girl who\ndrinks will abandon her virtue. What did Methuselah know about smoking\ncigarettes? I know there are some sissy fellows out there who object to\nmy talking plain and know you shirk from talking plain.\n\nIf any one ever tells you that you can't be virtuous and enjoy good\nhealth, I brand him as a low, infamous, black-hearted liar.\n\nAsk any afflicted man you see on the street. If you could only reveal\nthe heart of every one of them! In most you would find despair and\ndisease.\n\nHow little he thinks when he is nursing that lust that he is nursing a\ndemon which, like a vampire, will suck his blood and wreck his life and\nblacken and blight his existence. And if any little children are born\nto him, they will be weak anemics without the proper blood in their\nveins to support them. Our young men ought to be taught that no sum\nthey can leave to a charitable institution can blot out the deeds of an\nignominious life. You don't have to look far for the reason why so many\nyoung men fail; why they go through life weak, ambitionless, useless.\n\n\nCommon Sense\n\nLet's be common folks together today. Let's be men, and talk sense.\n\nAs a rule a man wants something better for his children than he has\nhad for himself. My father died before I was born and I lived with my\ngrandfather. He smoked, but he didn't want me to. He chewed, but he\ndidn't want me to. He drank, but he didn't want me to. He cussed, but\nhe didn't want me to. He made wine that would make a man fight his own\nmother after he had drunk it. I remember how I used to find the bottles\nand suck the wine through a straw or an onion top.\n\nOne day a neighbor was in and my grandfather asked him for a chew. He\nwent to hand it back, and I wanted some. He said I couldn't have it. I\nsaid I wanted it anyhow, and he picked me up and turned me across his\nknee and gave me a crack that made me see stars as big as moons.\n\nIf there is a father that hits the booze, he doesn't want his son to.\nIf he is keeping some one on the side, he doesn't want his son to. In\nother words, you would not want your son to live like you if you are\nnot living right.\n\nAn old general was at the bedside of his dying daughter. He didn't\nbelieve in the Bible and his daughter said, \"What shall I do? You\ndon't believe in the Bible. Mamma does. If I obey one I'm going against\nthe other.\" The old general put his arms around his daughter and said:\n\"Follow your mother's way; it is the safest.\" Man wants his children to\nhave that which is sure.\n\nI have sometimes imagined that young fellow in Luke xv. He came to\nhis father and said, \"Dig up. I'm tired of this and want to see the\nworld.\" His father didn't know what he meant. \"Come across with the\nmazuma, come clean, divvy. I want the coin, see?\" Finally the father\ntumbled, and he said, \"I got you,\" and he divided up his share and gave\nit to the young man. Then he goes down to Babylon and starts out on a\nsporting life. He meets the young blood and the gay dame. I can imagine\nthat young fellow the first time he swore. If his mother had been near\nhe would have looked at her and blushed rose red. But he thought he had\nto cuss to be a man.\n\nNo man can be a good husband, no man can be a good father, no man can\nbe a respectable citizen, no man can be a gentleman, and swear. You can\nhang out a sign of gentleman, but when you cuss you might as well take\nit in.\n\nThere are three things which will ruin any town and give it a bad\nname--open licensed saloons; a dirty, cussing, swearing gang of\nblacklegs on the street; and vile story tellers. Let a town be known\nfor these three things, and these alone, and you could never start a\nboom half big enough to get one man there.\n\nOld men, young men, boys, swear. What do you cuss for? It doesn't do\nyou any good, gains you nothing in business or society; it loses you\nthe esteem of men. God said more about cussing than anything. God said,\n\"Thou shalt not kill,\" \"Thou shalt not steal,\" \"Thou shalt not bear\nfalse witness,\" but God said more about cussing than them all; and men\nare still cussing. \"Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in\nvain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who taketh his name in\nvain.\"\n\n\nNo Excuse for Swearing\n\nI can see how you can get out of anything but cussing. I can see how\na man could be placed in such a position that he would kill and be\nexonerated by the law of God and man, if he killed to protect his life,\nor the life of another.\n\nI can see how a man could be forced to steal if he stole to keep his\nwife from starving.\n\nUp in Chicago several years ago there was a long-continued strike and\nthe last division of the union treasury had given each man twenty-five\ncents. A man went into the railroad yards and got a bag of coal from\none of the cars. They pinched him and he came up before a judge. He\ntold the judge that he had only the twenty-five cents of the last\ndivision and he spent that for food. His wife and two children were at\nhome starving and he had no fire. He stole the coal to cook their food.\nThe judge thundered, \"Get out of this room and get home and build that\nfire as quickly as you can.\"\n\nSay, boys, if I was on a jury and you could prove to me that a father\nhad stolen a loaf of bread to keep his wife from starving you could\nkeep me in the room until the ants took me out through the keyhole\nbefore I'd stick him. That may not be law, I don't know; but you'll\nfind there is a big streak of human nature in Bill.\n\nThere isn't a fellow in this crowd but what would be disgusted if his\nwife or sister would cuss and hit the booze like he does. If she would\nput fifteen or twenty beers under her belt, he'd go whining around a\ndivorce court for a divorce right away and say he couldn't live with\nher. Why, you dirty dog, she has to live with you.\n\nI heard of a fellow whose wife thought she would show him how he\nsounded around the house and give him a dose of his own medicine. So\none morning he came down and asked for his breakfast. \"Why you old\nblankety, blank, blank, bald-headed, blankety, blankety, blank, you can\nget your own breakfast.\" He was horrified, but every time he tried to\nsay anything she would bring out a bunch of lurid oaths until finally\nhe said, \"Wife, if you'll cut out that cussing I'll never swear again.\"\n\nI have sometimes tried to imagine myself in Damascus on review day, and\nhave seen a man riding on a horse richly caparisoned with trappings\nof gold and silver, and he himself clothed in garments of the finest\nfabrics, and the most costly, though with a face so sad and melancholy\nthat it would cause the beholder to turn and look a second and third\ntime. But he was a leper. And a man unaccustomed to such scenes might\nbe heard to make a remark like this: \"How unequally God seems to divide\nhis favors! There is a man who rides and others walk; he is clothed in\ncostly garments; they are almost naked while he is well fed,\" and they\ncontrast the difference between the man on the horse and the others. If\nwe only knew the breaking hearts of the people we envy we would pity\nthem from the bottom of our souls.\n\nI was being driven through a suburb of Chicago by a real estate man who\nwanted to sell me a lot. He was telling me who lived here and who lived\nthere, and what an honor it would be for me and my children to possess\na home there. We were driving past a house that must have cost $100,000\nand he said: \"That house is owned by Mr. So-and-So. He is one of our\nmulti-millionaires, and he and his wife have been known to live in that\nhouse for months and never speak to each other. They each have separate\napartments, each has a separate retinue of servants, each a dining-room\nand sleeping apartments, and months come and go by and they never speak\nto each other.\" My thoughts hurried back to the little flat we called\nour home, where we had lived for seventeen years. I have paid rent\nenough to pay for it. There wasn't much in it; I could load it in two\nfurniture vans, maybe three, counting the piano, but I would not trade\nthe happiness and the joy and the love of that little flat if I had to\ntake that palatial home and the sorrow and the things that went with\nit.\n\n\nFamily Skeletons\n\nSuppose you were driving along the street and a man who was intimately\nacquainted with the skeletons that are in every family, should tell you\nthe secrets of them all, of that boy who has broken his father's heart\nby being a drunkard, a blackleg gambler, and that girl who has gone\nastray, and that wife who is a common drunkard, made so by society, and\nthe father himself who is also a sinner.\n\nLeprosy is exceedingly loathsome, and as I study its pathology I am\nnot surprised that God used it as a type of sin. A man who is able\nto understand this disease, its beginning and its progress, might\nbe approached by a man who was thus afflicted and might say to him,\n\"Hurry! hurry! Show yourself to the priest for the cleansing of the\nMosaic law.\"\n\n\"Why?\" says the man addressed. \"What is the trouble?\" The other man\nwould say, \"Do hurry and show yourself to the priest.\" But the man\nsays, \"That is only a fester, only a water blister, only a pimple,\nnothing more. I say there is no occasion to be alarmed. You are unduly\nagitated and excited for my welfare.\"\n\nThose sores are only few now, but it spreads, and it is first upon the\nhand, then upon the arm, and from the arm it goes on until it lays hold\nof every nerve, artery, vein with its slimy coil, and continues until\nthe disintegration of the parts takes place and they drop off, and\nthen it is too late. But the man who was concerned saw the beginning\nof that, not only the end, but the beginning. He looked yonder and saw\nthe end too. If you saw a blaze you would cry, \"Fire!\" Why? Because you\nknow that if let alone it will consume the building.\n\nThat is the reason why you hurry when you get evidence of the\ndisease. So I say to you, young man, don't you go with that godless,\ngood-for-nothing gang that blaspheme and sneer at religion, that bunch\nof character assassins; they will make of your body a doormat to\nwipe their feet upon. Don't go with that bunch. I heard you swear, I\nheard you sneer at religion. Stop, or you will become a staggering,\nmuttering, bleary-eyed, foul-mouthed down-and-outer, on your way to\nhell. I say to you stop, or you will go reeling down to hell, breaking\nyour wife's heart and wrecking your children's lives. And what have you\ngot to show for it? What have you got to show for it? God pity you for\nall you got to show for selling your soul to the devil. You are a fool.\nYou are a fool. Take it from \"Bill,\" you are a fool.\n\nDon't you go, my boy; don't you laugh at that smutty story with a\ndouble meaning. Don't go with that gang. But you say to me, \"Mr.\nSunday, you are unduly excited for my welfare. I know you smell liquor\non my breath, but I never expect to become a drunkard. I never expect\nto become an outcast.\" Well, you are a fool. You are a fool. No man\never intended to become a drunkard. Every drunkard started out to be\nsimply a moderate drinker. The fellow that tells me that he can leave\nit alone when he wants to lies. It is a lie. If you can, why don't you\nleave it alone? You will never let it alone. If you could, you would.\nMy boy, hear me, I have walked along the shores of time and have seen\nthem strewn with the wrecks of those who have drifted in from the seas\nof lust and passion and are fit only for danger signals to warn the\ncoming race. You can't leave it alone or if you can, the time will come\nwhen it will get you. Take it from me.\n\nMy mother told me never to buy calico by lamplight, because you can't\ntell whether the colors will stand or run in the wash. Never ask a girl\nto be your wife when she's got her best bib and tucker on. Call on her\nand leave at ten o'clock and leave your glove on the piano, and go\nback the next morning about nine o'clock after your glove and ring the\ndoorbell, and if she comes to the door with her hair done up in curl\npapers and a slipper on one foot and a shoe on the other foot, and that\nuntied, and a Mother Hubbard on, take to the woods as fast as you can\ngo. Never mind the glove, let the old man have that if he can wear it.\nBut if she comes to the door nice and neat in a neat working house\ndress, with her sleeves rolled up and her hair neatly done up, and a\nribbon or a flower stuck in it, grab her quick.\n\nHenry Clay Trumbull told me years ago that he was in Europe and in\nLondon he went to a theater to see a man who was going to give an\nexhibition of wild animals and serpents. He had a royal Bengal tiger\nand a Numidian lion, and he introduced a beast that seems to be least\nable of being tamed either by kindness or brutality, a black panther.\nHe made him go through the various motions, and after a while a wire\nscreen was put down in front of the stage between the audience and\nthe performer, and to the weird strains of an oriental band the man\napproached from the left of the stage and a serpent from the right.\nThe eyes of the serpent and the man met and the serpent quailed before\nthe man. Man was master there. At his command the serpent went through\nvarious contortions, and the man stepped to the front of the stage and\nthe serpent wound himself round and round and round the man, until\nthe man and serpent seemed as one. His tongue shot out, his eyes\ndilated. The man gave a call, but the audience thought that part of the\nperformance, and that horrified audience sat there and heard bone after\nbone in that man's body crack and break as the reptile tightened its\ngrasp upon his body, and saw his body crushed before he could be saved.\n\nHe had bought that snake when it was only four feet long and he had\nwatered and nursed it until it was thirty-five feet. At first he could\nhave killed it; at last it killed him.\n\n\nNursing Bad Habits\n\nAre you nursing a habit today? Is it drink? Are you nursing and feeding\nthat which will wreck your life and wreck you upon the shores of\npassion, notwithstanding all the wrecks you have seen of those who have\ngone down the line?\n\nI never got such a good idea of leprosy as I did by reading that\nwonderful book of the nineteenth century by General Lew Wallace, \"Ben\nHur.\" You remember the banishment of Ben Hur and the disintegration of\nthat family life and estate, and the return of Ben Hur from his exile.\nHe goes past his old home. The blinds are closed and drawn and all is\ndeserted. He lies down upon the doorstep and falls asleep. His mother\nand sister have been in the leper colony and are dying of leprosy and\nonly waiting the time when they will be covered with the remains of\nothers who have come there. So they have come to the city to get bread\nand secure water, and they see their son and brother lying on the\ndoorstep of their old home. They dare not awaken him for fear anguish\nat learning of their fate would be more than he could bear. They dare\nnot touch him because it is against the law, so they creep close to him\nand put their leprous lips against his sandal-covered feet. They then\ngo back again with the bread and water for which they had come.\n\nPresently Ben Hur awakens and rubs his eyes and sees great excitement.\n(This part of the story is mine.) Along comes a blear-eyed, old,\nwhisky-soaked degenerate and Ben Hur asks him what is the trouble, what\nis the excitement about, and he says: \"A couple of lepers have been\ncleansed, but there is nothing to that, just some occult power, it's\nall a fake.\" Ben Hur goes farther on and hears about this wonder, and\nthey say it is nothing; nothing, some long-haired evangelist who says\nhis name is Jesus Christ; it's all a fake. Then Ben Hur goes farther\nand discovers that it is Jesus of Nazareth and that he has cleansed Ben\nHur's own mother and sister. He hears the story and acknowledges the\nNazarene.\n\n\nThe Leprosy of Sin\n\nThe lepers had to cry, \"Unclean! Unclean!\" in those days to warn the\npeople. They were compelled by law to do that: also they were compelled\nby law to go on the side of the street toward which the wind was\nblowing lest the breeze bring the germs of their body to the clean\nand infect them with the disease. And the victim of this disease was\ncompelled to live in a lonely part of the city, waiting until his\nteeth began to drop out, his eyes to drop from their sockets, and his\nfingers to drop from his hands, then he was compelled to go out in the\ntombs, the dying among the dead, there to live until at last he was\ngathered to the remains of the dead. That was the law that governed the\nleper in those days. All others shrank from him; he went forth alone.\nAlone! No man of all he loved or knew, was with him; he went forth on\nhis way, alone, sick at heart, to die alone.\n\nLeprosy is infectious. And so is sin. Sin begins in so-called innocent\nflirtation. The old, god-forsaken scoundrel of a libertine, who looks\nupon every woman as legitimate prey for his lust, will contaminate a\ncommunity; one drunkard, staggering and maundering and muttering his\nway down to perdition, will debauch a town.\n\nSome men ought to be hurled out of society; they ought to be kicked\nout of lodges; they ought to be kicked out of churches, and out of\npolitics, and every other place where decent men live or associate. And\nI want to lift the burden tonight from the heads of the unoffending\nwomanhood and hurl it on the heads of offending manhood.\n\nRid the world of those despicable beasts who live off the earnings of\nthe unfortunate girl who is merchandising herself for gain. In some\nsections they make a business of it. I say commercialized vice is hell.\nI do not believe any more in a segregated district for immoral women\nthan I would in having a section for thieves to live in where you could\nhire one any day or night in the week to steal for you. There are two\nthings which have got to be driven out or they'll drive us out, and\nthey are open licensed saloons and protected vice.\n\nSociety needs a new division of anathemas. You hurl the burden on the\nhead of the girl; and the double-dyed scoundrel that caused her ruin\nis received in society with open arms, while the girl is left to hang\nher head and spend her life in shame. Some men are so rotten and vile\nthat they ought to be disinfected and take a bath in carbolic acid and\nformaldehyde. Shut the lodge door in the face of every man that you\nknow to be a moral leper; don't let him hide behind his uniform and his\nbadge when you know him to be so rotten that the devil would duck up an\nalley rather than meet him face to face. Kick him out of church. Kick\nhim out of society.\n\nYou don't live your life alone. Your life affects others. Some girls\nwill walk the streets and pick up every Tom, Dick and Harry that will\ncome across with the price of an ice-cream soda or a joy ride.\n\nSo with the boy. He will sit at your table and drink beer, and I want\nto tell you if you are low-down enough to serve beer and wine in your\nhome, when you serve it you are as low down as the saloon-keeper, and\nI don't care whether you do it for society or for anything else. If\nyou serve liquor or drink you are as low down as the saloon-keeper in\nmy opinion. So the boy who had not grit enough to turn down his glass\nat the banquet and refuse to drink is now a blear-eyed, staggering\ndrunkard, reeling to hell. He couldn't stand the sneers of the crowd.\nMany a fellow started out to play cards for beans, and tonight he\nwould stake his soul for a show-down. The hole in the gambling table\nis not very big; it is about big enough to shove a dollar through; but\nit is big enough to shove your wife through; big enough to shove your\nhappiness through; your home through; your salary, your character;\njust big enough to shove everything that is dear to you in this world\nthrough.\n\nListen to me. Bad as it is to be afflicted with physical leprosy,\nmoral leprosy is ten thousand times worse. I don't care if you are\nthe richest man in the town, the biggest taxpayer in the county, the\nbiggest politician in the district, or in the state. I don't care a rap\nif you carry the political vote of Pennsylvania in your vest pocket,\nand if you can change the vote from Democratic to Republican in the\nconvention--if after your worldly career is closed my text would make\nyou a fitting epitaph for your tombstone and obituary notice in the\npapers, then what difference would it make what you had done--\"he\nwas a leper.\" He was a great politician--but \"He was a leper.\" What\ndifference would it make?\n\nI'll tell you, I was never more interested in my life than in reading\nthe story of an old Confederate colonel who was a stickler for martial\ndiscipline. One day he had a trifling case of insubordination. He\nordered his men to halt, and he had the offender shot. They dug the\ngrave and he gave the command to march, and they had stopped just three\nminutes by the clock. At the close of the war they made him chief of\npolice of a Southern city, and he was so vile and corrupt that the\npeople arose and ordered his dismissal. Then a great earthquake swept\nover the city, and the people rushed from their homes and thousands of\npeople crowded the streets and there was great excitement. Some asked,\n\"Where is the colonel?\" and they said, \"You will find him in one of two\nor three places.\" So they searched and found him in a den of infamy. He\nwas so drunk that he didn't realize the danger he was in. They led him\nout, then put him upon a snow white-horse, put his spurs on his boots\nand his regimentals on; they pinned a star on his breast and put a\ncockade on his hat, and said to him: \"Colonel, we command you as mayor\nof the city to quell this riot. You have supreme authority.\"\n\nHe rode out among the people to quell the riot, dug his spurs into the\nwhite side of the horse and the crimson flowed out, and he rode in and\nout among the surging mass of humanity.\n\nHe rode out among the people with commands here, torrents of obscenity\nthere, and in twenty-five minutes the stillness of death reigned in\ncity squares, so marvelously did they fear him, so wonderful was his\npower over men. He then rode out, dismounted, took off his cockade,\ntore the star from his breast and threw it down, threw off his\nregimentals, took off his sword; then he staggered back to the house of\ninfamy, where three months later he died, away from his wife, away from\nvirtue, away from morality, his name synonymous with all that is vile.\nWhat difference did it make that he had power over men when you might\nsum up his life in the words, \"But he was a leper.\" What difference did\nit make?\n\nI pity the boy or girl from the depths of my soul, who if you ask are\nyou willing to be a Christian, will answer: \"Mr. Sunday, I would like\nto be, but if I tell that at home my brothers will abuse me, my mother\nwill sneer at me, my father will curse me. If I were, I would have no\nencouragement to stand and fight the battle.\" I pity from the depths of\nmy soul that boy or girl, the boy who has a father like that; the girl\nthat has a mother like that, who have a joint like that for a home.\n\nUnclean! Suppose every young man who is a moral leper were impelled by\nsome uncontrollable impulse over which he had no power to make public\nrevelations of his sins! Down the street he comes in his auto and you\nspeak to him from the curbstone and he will say: \"Unclean! Unclean!\"\nYonder he comes walking down the street. Suppose that to every man and\nwoman he meets he is impelled and compelled to make revelation of the\nfact that he is a leper.\n\nLeprosy is an infectious disease; it is the germ of sin. If there is an\nevil in you the evil will dwell in others. When we do wrong we inspire\nothers--and your lives scatter disease when you come in contact with\nothers. If there is sin in the father there will be sin in the boy;\nif there is sin in the mother, there will be sin in the daughter; if\nthere is sin in the sister, there will be sin in the brother; by your\ninfluence you will spread it. If you live the wrong way you will drag\nsomebody else to perdition with you as you go, and kindred ties will\nfacilitate it.\n\nSupposing all your hearts were open. Supposing we had glass doors to\nour hearts, and we could walk down the street and look in and see where\nyou have been, and with whom you have been and what you have been\ndoing. A good many of you would want stained-glass windows and heavy\ntapestry to cover them.\n\n\n\"But the Lord Looketh on the Heart\"\n\nSuppose I could put a screen behind me, pull a string or push a button,\nand produce on that screen a view of the hearts of the people. I would\nsay: \"Here is Mr. and Mrs. A's life, as it is, and here, as the people\nthink it is. Here is what he really is. Here is where he has been. Here\nis how much booze he drinks. Here is how much he lost last year at\nhorse races.\" But these are the things that society does not take note\nof. Society takes no note of the flirtation on the street. It waits\nuntil the girl has lost her virtue and then it slams the door in her\nface. It takes no note of that young man drinking at a banquet table;\nit waits until he becomes a bleary-eyed drunkard and then it will slam\nthe door in his face. It will take no note of the young fellow that\nplays cards for a prize; it waits until he becomes a blackleg gambler\nand then it slams the door in his face.\n\nGod says, \"Look out in the beginning for that thing.\" Society takes\nno note of the beginning. It waits until it becomes vice, and then it\norganizes Civic Righteousness clubs. Get back to the beginning and\ndo your work there. God has planned to save this world through the\npreaching of men and women, and God reaches down to save men; he pulls\nthem out of the grog shops and puts them on the water wagon.\n\nI never could imagine an angel coming down from heaven and preaching to\nmen and women to save them. God never planned to save this world with\nthe preaching of angels. When Jesus Christ died on the cross he died\nto redeem those whose nature he took. An angel wouldn't know what he\nwas up against. Some one would say: \"Good Angel, were you ever drunk?\"\n\"No!\" \"Good Angel, did you ever swear?\" \"Oh, no!\" \"Good Angel, did you\never try to put up a stove-pipe in the fall?\" \"Oh, no!\" \"Did you ever\nstub your toe while walking the floor with the baby at three A. M?\"\n\"Oh, no!\"\n\n\"Well, then, Mr. Angel, you don't know. You say there is great mercy\nwith God, but you are not tempted.\"\n\nNo. God planned to save the world by saving men and women and letting\nthem tell the story.\n\nThe servant of Naaman entered the hut of the prophet Elisha and found\nhim sitting on a high stool writing with a quill pen on papyrus. The\nservant bowed low and said, \"The great and mighty Naaman, captain\nof the hosts of the king of Syria, awaits thee. Unfortunately he is\na leper and cannot enter your august presence. He has heard of the\nmiraculous cures that you have wrought and he hopes to become the\nrecipient of your power.\" The old prophet of God replied:\n\n\"Tell him to dip seven times in the Jordan--beat it, beat it, beat it.\"\nThe servant came out to Naaman, who was sitting on his horse.\n\n\"Well, is he at home?\"\n\n\"He's at home, but he is a queer duck.\"\n\nNaaman thought that Elisha would come out and pat the sores and say\nincantations, like an Indian medicine man. Naaman was wroth, like many\na fool today. God reveals to the sinner the plan of salvation and,\ninstead of thanking God for salvation and doing what God wants him to\ndo, he condemns God and everybody else for bothering him.\n\nNow here is a man who wants to be a Christian. What will he do? Will\nhe go ask some old saloon-keeper? Will he go ask some of these old\nbrewers? Will he ask some of the fellows of the town? Will he ask the\nCounty Liquor Dealers' Association? Where will he go? To the preacher,\nof course. He is the man to go to when you want to be a Christian. Go\nto a doctor when you are sick, to a blacksmith when your horse is to be\nshod, but go to the preacher when you want your heart set right.\n\nSo Naaman goes into the muddy water and the water begins to lubricate\nthose old sores, and it begins to itch, and he says, \"Gee whizz,\" like\nmany a young fellow today who goes to a church and just gets religion\nenough to make him feel miserable. An old fellow in Iowa came to me and\nsaid, \"Bill, I have been to hear you every night and you have done me\na lot of good. I used to cuss my old woman every day and I ain't cussed\nher for a week. I'm getting a little better.\"\n\n\nThe Joy of Religion\n\nThe trouble with many men is that they have got just enough religion\nto make them miserable. If there is no joy in religion, you have got a\nleak in your religion. Some haven't religion enough to pay their debts.\nWould that I might have a hook and for every debt that you left unpaid\nI might jerk off a piece of clothing. If I did some of you fellows\nwould have not anything on but a celluloid collar and a pair of socks.\n\nSome of you have not got religion enough to have family prayer. Some\nof you people haven't got religion enough to take the beer bottles out\nof your cellar and throw them in the alley. You haven't got religion\nenough to tell that proprietor of the red light, \"No, you can't rent my\nhouse after the first of June;\" to tell the saloon-keeper, \"You can't\nrent my house when your lease runs out\"; and I want to tell you that\nthe man that rents his property to a saloon-keeper is as low-down as\nthe saloon-keeper. The trouble with you is that you are so taken up\nwith business, with politics, with making money, with your lodges, and\neach and every one is so dependent on the other, that you are scared\nto death to come out and live clean cut for God Almighty. You have not\nfully surrendered yourself to God.\n\nThe matter with a lot of you people is that your religion is not\ncomplete. You have not yielded yourself to God and gone out for God\nand God's truth. Why, I am almost afraid to make some folks laugh for\nfear that I will be arrested for breaking a costly piece of antique\nbric-\u00e0-brac. You would think that if some people laughed it would break\ntheir faces. To see some people you would think that the essential of\northodox Christianity is to have a face so long you could eat oatmeal\nout of the end of a gas pipe. Sister, that is not religion; I want to\ntell you that the happy, smiling, sunny-faced religion will win more\npeople to Jesus Christ than the miserable old grim-faced kind will in\nten years. I pity anyone who can't laugh. There must be something wrong\nwith their religion or their liver. The devil can't laugh.\n\nSo I can see Naaman as he goes into the water and dips seven times, and\nlo! his flesh becomes again as a little child's. When? When he did what\nGod told him to do.\n\nI have seen men come down the aisle by the thousands, men who have\ndrank whisky enough to sink a ship. I have seen fallen women come to\nthe front by scores and hundreds, and I have seen them go away cleansed\nby the power of God. When? When they did just what God told them to do.\n\nI wish to God the Church were as afraid of imperfection as it is of\nperfection.\n\nI saw a woman that for twenty-seven years had been proprietor of\na disorderly house, and I saw her come down the aisle, close her\ndoors, turn the girls out of her house and live for God. I saw enough\nconverted in one town where there were four disorderly houses to close\ntheir doors; they were empty; the girls had all fled home to their\nmothers.\n\nOut in Iowa a fellow came to me and spread a napkin on the platform--a\nnapkin as big as a tablecloth. He said: \"I want a lot of shavings and\nsawdust.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you; I want enough to make a sofa pillow. Right here is\nwhere I knelt down and was converted and my wife and four children, and\nmy neighbors. I would like to have enough to make a sofa pillow to have\nsomething in my home to help me think of God. I don't want to forget\nGod, or that I was saved. Can you give me enough?\"\n\nI said, \"Yes, indeed, and if you want enough to make a mattress, all\nright, take it; and if you want enough of the tent to make a pair of\nbreeches for each of the boys, why take your scissors and cut it right\nout, if it will help you to keep your mind on God.\"\n\nThat is why I like to have people come down to the front and publicly\nacknowledge God. I like to have a man have a definite experience in\nreligion--something to remember.\n\n\nA PLAIN TALK TO WOMEN\n\nAnd I say to you, young girl, don't go with that godless, God-forsaken,\nsneering young man that walks the streets smoking cigarettes. He would\nnot walk the streets with you if you smoked cigarettes. But you say you\nwill marry him and reform him; he would not marry you to reform you.\nDon't go to that dance. Don't you know that it is the most damnable,\nlow-down institution on the face of God's earth, that it causes more\nruin than anything this side of hell? Don't you go with that young man;\ndon't you go to that dance. That is why we have so many whip-poor-will\nwidows around the country: they married some of these mutts to reform\nthem, and instead of doing that the undertaker got them. I say, young\ngirl, don't go to that dance; it has proven to be the moral graveyard\nthat has caused more ruination than anything that was ever spewed out\nof the mouth of hell. Don't go with that young fellow for a joy ride at\nmidnight.\n\nGirls, when some young fellow comes up and asks you the greatest\nquestion that you will ever be asked or called upon to answer, next\nto the salvation of your own soul, what will you say? \"Oh, this is so\nsudden!\" That is all a bluff; you have been waiting for it all the time.\n\nBut, girls, never mind now, get down to facts. When he asks you the\ngreatest question, the most important one that any girl is ever asked,\nnext to the salvation of her soul, just say, \"Sit down and let me ask\nyou three questions. I want to ask you these three questions and if\nI am satisfied with your answer, it will determine my answer to your\nquestion. 'Did you believe me to be virtuous when you came here to ask\nme to be your wife?'\" \"Oh, yes, I believed you to be virtuous. That's\nthe reason I came here. You are like violets dipped in dew.\" The\nsecond question: \"Have you as a young man lived as you demand of me as\na girl that I should have lived?\" The third question: \"If I, as a girl,\nhad lived and done as you, as a young man, and you knew it, would you\nask me to marry you?\"\n\nThey will line up and nine times out of ten they will take the count.\nYou can line them up, and I know what I am talking about, and I defy\nany man on God's earth successfully to contradict me. I have the\ngoods. The average young man is more particular about the company he\nkeeps than the average girl. I'll tell you. If he meets somebody on\nthe street whom he doesn't want to meet he will duck into the first\nopen doorway and avoid the publicity of meeting her, for fear she\nmight smile or give an indication that she had seen him somewhere\nand sometime before that. Yet our so-called best girls keep company\nwith young men whose character would make a black mark on a piece of\nanthracite. Their characters are foul and rotten and damnable.\n\nI like to see a girl who has a good head, and can choose right because\nit is right, never minding the criticism. Choose the good and be\ncareful of good company and good conduct, and keep company with a\ngood young fellow. Don't go with the fellow whose reputation is bad.\nEverybody knows it is bad, and if you are seen with him you will lose\nyour reputation as well, although your virtue is intact; and they might\nas well take you to the graveyard and bury you, when your reputation is\ngone. When a man like that asks you to go with him, say to him that if\nhe will live the way you want him to you will go with him. If he would\ntake a stand like that there wouldn't be so many wrecks. If our women\nand girls would take higher stands and say, \"No, no, we will not keep\ncompany with you unless you live the way I want you to,\" there would\nbe better men. A lot of you women hold yourselves too cheaply. You are\nscared to death for fear you will be what the world irreverently calls\n\"an old maid.\"\n\n\nHospitality\n\nYou remember the prophet Elisha and his journey to the school of\nprophets up to Mount Carmel. There was a woman who noticed the actions\nand conduct of the man of God and she said to her husband, \"Let us\nbuild a little room and place therein a bed, and bowl and pitcher, that\nhe may make it his home.\"\n\nThe suggestion evidently met with the approval of the husband, because\never afterward the man of God enjoyed this hospitality. I sometimes\nthought she might have been a new woman of the olden times, because no\nmention is made of the husband. You never hear of some old lobsters\nunless they are fortunate enough to marry a woman who does things and\ntheir name is always mentioned in connection with what the wife does.\n\nYou know there are homes in which the advent of one, two and possibly\nthree children is considered a curse instead of a blessing. God, in\nhis providence, has often denied the honor of maternity to some women.\nBut there are married women who shrink from maternity, not because of\nill health, but simply because they love ease, because they love fine\ngarments and ability to flirt like a butterfly at some social function.\n\nCrimes have been and are being committed; hands are stained with blood;\nand that very crime has made France the charnel house of the world.\nAnd America, we of our boasted intelligence and wealth, we are fast\napproaching the same doom, until or unless it behooves somebody with\ngrit and courage to preach against the prevailing sins and run the risk\nof incurring the displeasure of people who divert public attention from\ntheir own vileness rather than condemn themselves for the way they are\nliving. They say the man who is preaching against it is vulgar, rather\nthan the man who did it.\n\nI am sure there is not an angel in heaven that would not be glad to\ncome to earth and be honored with motherhood if God would grant her\nthat privilege. What a grand thing it must be, at the end of your\nearthly career, to look back upon a noble and godly life, knowing you\ndid all you could to help leave this old world to God and made your\ncontributions in tears and in prayers and taught your offspring to be\nGod-fearing, so that when you went you would continue to produce your\nnoble character in your children.\n\n\nMaternity Out of Fashion\n\nSociety has just about put maternity out of fashion. When you stop to\nconsider the average society woman I do not think maternity has lost\nanything. The humbler children are raised by their mothers instead of\nbeing turned over to a governess.\n\n[Illustration: \"SOCIETY HAS JUST ABOUT PUT MATERNITY OUT OF FASHION\"]\n\nThere are too many girls who marry for other causes than love. I think\nambition, indulgence and laziness lead more girls to the altar than\nlove--girls not actuated by love, but simply willing to pay the price\nof wifehood to wear fine clothes. They are not moved by the noble\ndesires of manhood or womanhood.\n\nSome girls marry for novelty and some girls marry for a home. Some fool\nmothers encourage girls to marry for ease so they can go to the matinee\nand buzz around. Some fool girls marry for money and some girls marry\nfor society, because by connecting their name with a certain family's\nthey go up a rung in the social ladder, and some girls marry young\nbucks to reform them--and they are the biggest fools in the bunch,\nbecause the bucks would not marry the girls to reform them.\n\nYou mothers are worse fools to encourage your daughter to marry some\nold lobster because his father has money and when he dies, maybe your\ndaughter can have good clothes and ride in an auto instead of hoofing\nit. Look at the girls on the auction block today. Look at the awful\nbattle the average stenographer and average clerk has to fight. You\ncannot work for six dollars a week and wear fine duds and be on the\nsquare as much as you are without having the people suspicious.\n\nIn a letter to Miss Borson, President Roosevelt said: \"The man or woman\nwho avoids marriage and has a heart so cold as to know no passion and a\nbrain so shallow as to dislike having children is, in fact, a criminal.\"\n\nIs it well with thee? Is it well with your husband? \"The best man in\nthe world,\" you answer. Very well; is it well with the child? I think\nits responsibilities are equal, if they don't outweigh its privileges,\nand when God is in the heart of the child, I don't wonder that that\nhome is a haven of peace and rest.\n\nI have no motive in preaching except the interest I have in the moral\nwelfare of the people. There is not money enough to hire me to preach.\nI tell you, ladies, we have to do something more than wipe our eyes,\nand blow our nose, and say \"Come to Jesus.\" Go out and shell the woods\nand make them let you know why they don't \"come to Jesus.\"\n\nI believe the time will come when sex hygiene will form part of the\nhigh-school curriculum. I would rather have my children taught sex\nhygiene than Greek and Latin. A lot of the high-school curriculum is\nmere fad. I think the time will come when our girls will be taught in\nclasses with some graduated woman physician for an instructor.\n\nWomen live on a higher plane, morally, than men. No woman was ever\nruined that some brute of a man did not take the initiative. Women have\nkept themselves purer than men. I believe a good woman is the best\nthing this side of heaven and a bad woman the worst thing this side of\nhell. I think woman rises higher and sinks lower than man. I think she\nis the most degraded on earth or the purest on earth.\n\nOur homes are on the level with women. Towns are on the level with\nhomes. What women are our homes will be; and what the town is, the men\nwill be, so you hold the destiny of the nation.\n\nI believe there is something unfinished in the make-up of a girl who\ndoes not have religion. The average girl today no longer looks forward\nto motherhood as the crowning glory of womanhood. She is turning her\nhome into a gambling shop and a social beer-and-champagne-drinking\njoint, and her society is made up of poker players, champagne,\nwine and beer drinkers, grass-widowers and jilted jades and\nslander-mongers--that comprises the society of many a girl today. She\nis becoming a matinee-gadder and fudge-eater.\n\n\nThe Girl Who Flirts\n\nI wish I could make a girl that flirts see herself as others see her.\nIf you make eyes at a man on the street he will pay you back. It\ndoesn't mean that you are pretty. It means that if you don't care any\nmore for yourself than that why should he? The average man will take a\ngirl at her personal estimate of herself.\n\nIt takes a whole lot of nerve for a fellow to look a girl in the face\nand say, \"Will you be my wife and partner, and help me fight the battle\nduring life?\" but I think it means a whole lot more to the girl who\nhas to answer and fight that question. But the fool girl loafs around\nand waits to be chosen and takes the first chance she gets and seems\nto think that if they get made one, the laws of man can make them two\nagain.\n\nThe divorce laws are damnable. America is first in many things that I\nlove, but there are many things that are a disgrace. We lead the world\nin crime; and lead the world in divorce--we who boast of our culture.\n\nMany a girl has found out after she is married that it would have\nbeen a good deal easier to die an old maid than to have said \"yes,\"\nand become the wife of some cigarette-smoking, cursing, damnable\nlibertine. They will launch the matrimonial boat and put the oars in\nand try it once for luck, anyway, and so we have many women praying for\nunconverted husbands.\n\n[Illustration: \"WHO WILL LEAD THE WAY?\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"HA! HA! OLD DEVIL, I'VE GOT YOU BEAT!\"]\n\nI preached like this in a town once and the next day I heard of about\nfive engagements that were broken. I can give you advice now, but if\nthe knot is tied, the thing is done.\n\nI am a Roman Catholic on divorce. There are a whole lot of things worse\nthan living and dying an old maid and one of them is marrying the wrong\nman. So don't be one to do that.\n\nNow, girls, don't simper and look silly when you speak about love.\nThere is nothing silly about it, although some folks are silly because\nthey are in love. Love is the noblest and purest gift of God to man and\nwomankind. Don't let your actions advertise \"Man Wanted, Quick.\" That\nis about the surest way not to get a man. You might get a thing with\nbreeches on, but he is no man.\n\nMany a woman is an old maid because she wanted to do her share of the\ncourting. Don't get excited and want to hurry things along. If a man\nbegins to act as though he is after you, the surest way to get him is\njust to make him feel you don't want him, unless you drive him off by\nappearing too indifferent.\n\nAnd, girls, don't worry if you think you are not going to get a chance\nto marry. Some of the noblest men in the world have been bachelors and\nsome of the noblest women old maids. And, woman, for God's sake, when\nyou do get married, don't transfer the love God gave you to bestow on a\nlittle child to a Spitz dog or a brindle pup.\n\n\nThe Task of Womanhood\n\nAll great women are satisfied with their common sphere in life and\nthink it is enough to fill the lot God gave them in this world as wife\nand mother. I tell you the devil and women can damn this world, and\nJesus and women can save this old world. It remains with womanhood\ntoday to lift our social life to a higher plane.\n\nMothers, be more careful of your boys and girls. Explain these evils\nthat contaminate our social life today. I have had women say to me,\n\"Mr. Sunday, don't you think there is danger of talking too much to\nthem when they are so young?\" Not much; just as soon as a girl is able\nto know the pure from the impure she should be taught. Oh, mothers,\nmothers, you don't know what your girl is being led to by this false\nand mock modesty.\n\nDon't teach your girls that the only thing in the world is to marry.\nWhy, some girls marry infidels because they were not taught to say \"I\nwould not do it.\" A girl is a big fool to marry an infidel. God says,\n\"Be ye not unequally yoked with unbelievers.\"\n\nI believe there is a race yet to appear which will be as far superior\nin morals to us as we are superior to the morals in the days of Julius\nC\u00e6sar; but that race will never appear until God-fearing young men\nmarry God-fearing girls and the offspring are God-fearing.\n\nCulture will never save the world. If these miserable human vampires\nwho feed and fatten upon the virtue of womanhood can get off with\nimpunity; nay, more, be feasted and petted and coddled by society, we\nmight as well back-pedal out and sink in shame, for we can never see to\nthe heights nor command the respect of the great and good.\n\nWhat paved the way for the downfall of the mightiest dynasties--proud\nand haughty Greece and imperial Rome? The downfall of their womanhood.\nThe virtue of womanhood is the rampart wall of American civilization.\nBreak that down and with the stones thereof you can pave your way to\nthe hottest hell, and reeking vice and corruption.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\n\"Help Those Women\"\n\n If the womanhood of America had been no better than its manhood, the\n devil would have had the country fenced in long ago.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nThe average American is somewhat of a sentimentalist. \"Home, Sweet\nHome,\" is an American song. No people, except possibly the Irish,\nrespond more readily to the note of \"Mother\" than the Americans. No\nother nation honors womanhood so greatly. We are really a chivalrous\npeople.\n\nIn this respect, as in so many others, Sunday is true to type. His\nsermons abound with passages which express the best American sentiment\ntoward womanhood. It is good for succeeding generations that such words\nas the following should be uttered in the ears of tens and hundreds\nof thousands of young people, and reprinted in scores and hundreds of\nnewspapers.\n\n\n\"MOTHER\"\n\nThe story of Moses is one of the most beautiful and fascinating in all\nthe world. It takes a hold on us and never for an instant does it lose\nits interest, for it is so graphically told that once heard it is never\nforgotten.\n\nI have often imagined the anxiety with which that child was born, for\nhe came into the world with the sentence of death hanging over him,\nfor Pharaoh had decreed that the male children should die. The mother\ndefied even the command of the king and determined that the child\nshould live, and right from the beginning the battle of right against\nmight was fought at the cradle.\n\nMoses' mother was a slave. She had to work in the brickyards or labor\nin the field, but God was on her side and she won, as the mother\nalways wins with God on her side. Before going to work she had to\nchoose some hiding place for her child, and she put his little sister,\nMiriam, on guard while she kept herself from being seen by the soldiers\nof Pharaoh, who were seeking everywhere to murder the Jewish male\nchildren. For three months she kept him hidden, possibly finding a\nnew hiding place every few days. It is hard to imagine anything more\ndifficult than to hide a healthy, growing baby, and he was hidden for\nthree months. Now he was grown larger and more full of life and a more\nsecure hiding place had to be found, and I can imagine this mother\ngiving up her rest and sleep to prepare an ark for the saving of her\nchild.\n\nI believe the plan must have been formulated in heaven. I have often\nthought God must have been as much interested in that work as was\nthe mother of Moses, for you can't make me believe that an event so\nimportant as that, and so far-reaching in its results, ever happened\nby luck or chance. Possibly God whispered the plan to the mother when\nshe went to him in prayer and in her grief because she was afraid the\nsword of Pharaoh would murder her child. And how carefully the material\nout of which the ark was made had to be selected! I think every twig\nwas carefully scrutinized in order that nothing poor might get into its\ncomposition, and the weaving of that ark, the mother's heart, her soul,\nher prayers, her tears, were interwoven.\n\nOh, if you mothers would exercise as much care over the company your\nchildren keep, over the books they read and the places they go, there\nwould not be so many girls feeding the red-light district, nor so many\nboys growing up to lead criminal lives. And with what thanksgiving she\nmust have poured out her heart when at last the work was done and the\nark was ready to carry its precious cargo, more precious than if it was\nto hold the crown jewels of Egypt. And I can imagine the last night\nthat baby was in the home. Probably some of you can remember when the\nlast night came when baby was alive; you can remember the last night\nthe coffin stayed, and the next day the pall-bearers and the hearse\ncame. The others may have slept soundly, but there was no sleep for\nyou, and I can imagine there was no sleep for Moses' mother.\n\n    \"There are whips and tops and pieces of string\n      And shoes that no little feet ever wear;\n    There are bits of ribbon and broken wings\n      And tresses of golden hair.\n\n    \"There are dainty jackets that never are worn\n      There are toys and models of ships;\n    There are books and pictures all faded and torn\n      And marked by finger tips\n    Of dimpled hands that have fallen to dust--\n    Yet we strive to think that the Lord is just.\n\n    \"Yet a feeling of bitterness fills our soul;\n      Sometimes we try to pray,\n    That the Reaper has spared so many flowers\n      And taken ours away.\n    And we sometimes doubt if the Lord can know\n    How our riven hearts did love them so.\n\n    \"But we think of our dear ones dead,\n      Our children who never grow old,\n    And how they are waiting and watching for us\n      In the city with streets of gold;\n    And how they are safe through all the years\n      From sickness and want and war.\n    We thank the great God, with falling tears,\n      For the things in the cabinet drawer.\"\n\n\nA Mother's Watchfulness\n\nOthers in the house might have slept, but not a moment could she spare\nof the precious time allotted her with her little one, and all through\nthe night she must have prayed that God would shield and protect her\nbaby and bless the work she had done and the step she was about to take.\n\nSome people often say to me: \"I wonder what the angels do; how they\nemploy their time?\" I think I know what some of them did that night.\nYou can bet they were not out to some bridge-whist party. They guarded\nthat house so carefully that not a soldier of old Pharaoh ever crossed\nthe threshold. They saw to it that not one of them harmed that baby.\n\nAt dawn the mother must have kissed him good-bye, placed him in the\nark and hid him among the reeds and rushes, and with an aching heart\nand tear-dimmed eyes turned back again to the field and back to the\nbrickyards to labor and wait to see what God would do. She had done\nher prayerful best, and when you have done that you can bank on God\nto give the needed help. If we only believed that with God all things\nare possible no matter how improbable, what unexpected answers the\nLord would give to our prayers! She knew God would help her some way,\nbut I don't think she ever dreamed that God would help her by sending\nPharaoh's daughter to care for the child. It was no harder for God to\nsend the princess than it was to get the mother to prepare the ark.\nWhat was impossible from her standpoint was easy for God.\n\nPharaoh's daughter came down to the water to bathe, and the ark was\ndiscovered, just as God wanted it to be, and one of her maids was sent\nto fetch it. You often wonder what the angels are doing. I think some\nof the angels herded the crocodiles on the other side of the Nile to\nkeep them from finding Moses and eating him up. You can bank on it, all\nheaven was interested to see that not one hair of that baby's head was\ninjured. There weren't devils enough in hell to pull one hair out of\nits head. The ark was brought and with feminine curiosity the daughter\nof Pharaoh had to look into it to see what was there, and when they\nremoved the cover, there was lying a strong, healthy baby boy, kicking\nup his heels and sucking his thumbs, as probably most of us did when\nwe were boys, and probably as you did when you were a girl. The baby\nlooks up and weeps, and those tears blotted out all that was against it\nand gave it a chance for its life. I don't know, but I think an angel\nstood there and pinched it to make it cry, for it cried at the right\ntime. Just as God plans. God always does things at the right time. Give\nGod a chance; he may be a little slow at times, but he will always get\naround in time.\n\nThe tears of that baby were the jewels with which Israel was ransomed\nfrom Egyptian bondage. The princess had a woman's heart and when a\nwoman's heart and a baby's tears meet, something happens that gives the\ndevil cold feet. Perhaps the princess had a baby that had died, and the\nsight of Moses may have torn the wound open and made it bleed afresh.\nBut she had a woman's heart, and that made her forget she was the\ndaughter of Pharaoh and she was determined to give protection to that\nbaby. Faithful Miriam (the Lord be praised for Miriam) saw the heart of\nthe princess reflected in her face. Miriam had studied faces so much\nthat she could read the princess' heart as plainly as if written in an\nopen book, and she said to her: \"Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew\nwomen to nurse the child for you?\" and the princess said, \"Go.\"\n\nI see her little feet and legs fly as she runs down the hot, dusty\nroad, and her mother must have seen her coming a mile away, and she\nran to meet her own baby put back in her arms. And she was being paid\nEgyptian gold to take care of her own baby. See how the Lord does\nthings? \"Now you take this child and nurse it for me and I will pay you\nyour wages.\" It was a joke on Pharaoh's daughter, paying Moses' mother\nfor doing what she wanted to do more than anything else--nurse her own\nbaby.\n\nHow quickly the mother was paid for these long hours of anxiety and\nalarm and grief, and if the angels know what is going on what a\nhilarious time there must have been in heaven when they saw Moses and\nMiriam back at home, under the protection of the daughter of Pharaoh. I\nimagine she dropped on her knees and poured out her heart to God, who\nhad helped her so gloriously. She must have said: \"Well, Lord, I knew\nyou would help me. I knew you would take care of my baby when I made\nthe ark and put him in it and put it in the water, but I never dreamed\nthat you would put him back into my arms to take care of, so I would\nnot have to work and slave in the field and make brick and be tortured\nalmost to death for fear that the soldiers of Pharaoh would find my\nbaby and kill him. I never thought you would soften the stony heart of\nPharaoh and make him pay me for what I would rather do than anything\nelse in this world.\" I expect to meet Moses' mother in heaven, and I am\ngoing to ask her how much old Pharaoh had to pay her for that job. I\nthink that's one of the best jokes, that old sinner having to pay the\nmother to take care of her own baby. But I tell you, if you give God a\nchance, he will fill your heart to overflowing. Just give him a chance.\n\n\nA Mother's Bravery\n\nThis mother had remarkable pluck. Everything was against her but she\nwould not give up. Her heart never failed. She made as brave a fight as\nany man ever made at the sound of the cannon or the roar of musketry.\n\n    \"The bravest battle that was ever fought,\n      Shall I tell you where and when?\n    On the maps of the world you'll find it not--\n      'Twas fought by the mothers of men.\n\n    \"Nay, not with cannon or battle shot,\n      With sword or noble pen,\n    Nay, not with the eloquent word or thought,\n      From the mouths of wonderful men.\n\n    \"But deep in the walled-up woman's heart--\n      Of women that would not yield.\n    But, bravely, silently bore their part--\n      Lo, there is the battle-field.\n\n    \"No marshaling troops, no bivouac song,\n      No banner to gleam and wave;\n    But oh, these battles they last so long--\n      From babyhood to the grave.\"\n\nMothers are always brave when the safety of their children is concerned.\n\n[Illustration: \"DON'T GIVE A PUG-NOSED BULLDOG THE LOVE A BABY OUGHT TO\nBE GETTING.\"]\n\nThis incident happened out West. A mother was working in a garden\nand the little one was sitting under a tree in the yard playing. The\nmother heard the child scream; she ran, and a huge snake was wrapping\nits coils about the baby, and as its head swung around she leaped and\ngrabbed it by the neck and tore it from her baby and hurled it against\na tree.\n\nFathers often give up. The old man often goes to boozing, becomes\ndissipated, takes a dose of poison and commits suicide; but the mother\nwill stand by the home and keep the little band together if she has to\nmanicure her finger nails over a washboard to do it. If men had half as\nmuch grit as the women there would be different stories written about\na good many homes. Look at her work! It is the greatest in the world;\nin its far-reaching importance it is transcendently above everything\nin the universe--her task in molding hearts and lives and shaping\ncharacter. If you want to find greatness don't go to the throne, go to\nthe cradle; and the nearer you get to the cradle the nearer you get to\ngreatness. Now, when Jesus wanted to give his disciples an impressive\nobject lesson he called in a college professor, did he? Not much. He\nbrought in a little child and said: \"Except ye become as one of these,\nye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of God.\" The work is so important\nthat God will not trust anybody with it but a mother. The launching of\na boy or a girl to live for Christ is greater work than the launching\nof a battleship.\n\nMoses was a chosen vessel of the Lord and God wanted him to get the\nright kind of a start, so he gave him a good mother. There wasn't a\ncollege professor in all Egypt that God would trust with that baby! so\nhe put the child back in its mother's arms. He knew the best one on\nearth to trust with that baby was its own mother. When God sends us\ngreat men he wants to have them get the right kind of a start. So he\nsees to it that they have a good mother. Most any old stick will do\nfor a daddy. God is particular about the mothers.\n\n\nGood Mothers Needed\n\nAnd so the great need of this country, or any other country, is good\nmothers, and I believe we have more good mothers in America than any\nother nation on earth. If Washington's mother had been like a Happy\nHooligan's mother, Washington would have been a Happy Hooligan.\n\nSomebody has said: \"God could not be everywhere, so he gave us\nmothers.\" Now there may be poetry in it, but it's true \"that the hand\nthat rocks the cradle rules the world,\" and if every cradle was rocked\nby a good mother, the world would be full of good men, as sure as you\nbreathe. If every boy and every girl today had a good mother, the\nsaloons and disreputable houses would go out of business tomorrow.\n\nA young man one time joined a church and the preacher asked him: \"What\nwas it I said that induced you to be a Christian?\"\n\nSaid the young man: \"Nothing that I ever heard you say, but it is the\nway my mother lived.\" I tell you an ounce of example outweighs forty\nmillion tons of theory and speculation. If the mothers would live as\nthey should, we preachers would have little to do. Keep the devil out\nof the boys and girls and he will get out of the world. The old sinners\nwill die off if we keep the young ones clean.\n\nThe biggest place in the world is that which is being filled by the\npeople who are closely in touch with youth. Being a king, an emperor or\na president is mighty small potatoes compared to being a mother or the\nteacher of children, whether in a public school or in a Sunday school,\nand they fill places so great that there isn't an angel in heaven that\nwouldn't be glad to give a bushel of diamonds to boot to come down here\nand take their places. Commanding an army is little more than sweeping\na street or pounding an anvil compared with the training of a boy or\ngirl. The mother of Moses did more for the world than all the kings\nthat Egypt ever had. To teach a child to love truth and hate a lie, to\nlove purity and hate vice, is greater than inventing a flying machine\nthat will take you to the moon before breakfast. Unconsciously you set\nin motion influences that will damn or bless the old universe and bring\nnew worlds out of chaos and transform them for God.\n\n\nGod's Hall of Fame\n\nA man sent a friend of mine some crystals and said: \"One of these\ncrystals as large as a pin point will give a distinguishable green hue\nto sixteen hogsheads of water.\" Think of it! Power enough in an atom to\ntincture sixteen hogsheads of water. There is power in a word or act to\nblight a boy and, through him, curse a community. There is power enough\nin a word to tincture the life of that child so that it will become a\npower to lift the world to Jesus Christ. The mothers will put in motion\ninfluences that will either touch heaven or hell. Talk about greatness!\n\nOh, you wait until you reach the mountains of eternity, then read the\nmothers' names in God's hall of fame, and see what they have been in\nthis world. Wait until you see God's hall of fame; you will see women\nbent over the washtub.\n\nI want to tell you women that fooling away your time hugging and\nkissing a poodle dog, caressing a \"Spitz,\" drinking society brandy-mash\nand a cocktail, and playing cards, is mighty small business compared to\nmolding the life of a child.\n\nTell me, where did Moses get his faith? From his mother. Where did\nMoses get his backbone to say: \"I won't be called the son of Pharaoh's\ndaughter?\" He got it from his mother. Where did Moses get the nerve to\nsay, \"Excuse me, please,\" to the pleasures of Egypt? He got it from his\nmother. You can bank on it he didn't inhale it from his dad. Many a boy\nwould have turned out better if his old dad had died before the kid\nwas born. You tell your boy to keep out of bad company. Sometimes when\nhe walks down the street with his father he's in the worst company in\ntown. His dad smokes, drinks and chews. Moses got it from his mother.\nHe was learned in all the wisdom of Egypt, but that didn't give him the\nswelled head.\n\nWhen God wants to throw a world out into space, he is not concerned\nabout it. The first mile that world takes settles its course for\neternity. When God throws a child out into the world he is mighty\nanxious that it gets a good start. The Catholics are right when they\nsay: \"Give us the children until they are ten years old and we don't\ncare who has them after that.\" The Catholics are not losing any sleep\nabout losing men and women from their church membership. It is the\nonly church that has ever shown us the only sensible way to reach the\nmasses--that is, by getting hold of the children. That's the only way\non God's earth that you will ever solve the problem of reaching the\nmasses. You get the boys and girls started right, and the devil will\nhang a crape on his door, bank his fires, and hell will be for rent\nbefore the Fourth of July.\n\nA friend of mine has a little girl that she was compelled to take to\nthe hospital for an operation. They thought she would be frightened,\nbut she said: \"I don't care if mama will be there and hold my hand.\"\nThey prepared her for the operation, led her into the room, put her on\nthe table, put the cone over her face and saturated it with ether, and\nshe said: \"Now, mama, take me by the hand and hold it and I'll not be\nafraid.\" And the mother stood there and held her hand. The operation\nwas performed, and when she regained consciousness, they said: \"Bessie,\nweren't you afraid when they put you on the table?\" She said: \"No, mama\nstood there and held my hand. I wasn't afraid.\"\n\nThere is a mighty power in a mother's hand. There's more power in a\nwoman's hand than there is in a king's scepter.\n\nAnd there is a mighty power in a mother's kiss--inspiration, courage,\nhope, ambition, in a mother's kiss. One kiss made Benjamin West a\npainter, and the memory of it clung to him through life. One kiss will\ndrive away the fear in the dark and make the little one brave. It will\ngive strength where there is weakness.\n\nI was in a town one day and saw a mother out with her boy, and he had\ngreat steel braces on both legs, to his hips, and when I got near\nenough to them I learned by their conversation that that wasn't the\nfirst time the mother had had him out for a walk. She had him out\nexercising him so he would get the use of his limbs. He was struggling\nand she smiled and said: \"You are doing finely today; better than\nyou did yesterday.\" And she stooped and kissed him, and the kiss of\nencouragement made him work all the harder, and she said: \"You are\ndoing nobly, son.\" And he said: \"Mama, I'm going to run; look at me.\"\nAnd he started, and one of his toes caught on the steel brace on the\nother leg and he stumbled, but she caught him and kissed him, and said:\n\"That was fine, son; how well you did it!\" Now, he did it because his\nmother had encouraged him with a kiss. He didn't do it to show off.\nThere is nothing that will help and inspire life like a mother's kiss.\n\n    \"If we knew the baby fingers pressed against the window pane,\n    Would be cold and still tomorrow, never trouble us again,\n    Would the bright eyes of our darling catch the frown upon our brow?\n\n    \"Let us gather up the sunbeams lying all around our path,\n    Let us keep the wheat and roses, casting out the thorns and chaff!\n    We shall find our sweetest comforts in the blessings of today,\n    With a patient hand removing all the briars from our way.\"\n\n\nA Mother's Song\n\nThere is power in a mother's song, too. It's the best music the world\nhas ever heard. The best music in the world is like biscuits--it's the\nkind mother makes. There is no brass band or pipe organ that can hold a\ncandle to mother's song. Calve, Melba, Nordica, Eames, SchumannHeinck,\nthey are cheap skates, compared to mother. They can't sing at all.\nThey don't know the rudiments of the kind of music mother sings. The\nkind she sings gets tangled up in your heart strings. There would be a\ndisappointment in the music of heaven to me if there were no mothers\nthere to sing. The song of an angel or a seraph would not have much\ncharm for me. What would you care for an angel's song if there were no\nmother's song?\n\nThe song of a mother is sweeter than that ever sung by minstrel or\nwritten by poet. Talk about sonnets! You ought to hear the mother sing\nwhen her babe is on her breast, when her heart is filled with emotion.\nHer voice may not please an artist, but it will please any one who\nhas a heart in him. The songs that have moved the world are not the\nsongs written by the great masters. The best music, in my judgment,\nis not the faultless rendition of these high-priced opera singers.\nThere is nothing in art that can put into melody the happiness which\nassociations and memories bring. I think when we reach heaven it will\nbe found that some of the best songs we will sing there will be those\nwe learned at mother's knee.\n\n\nA Mother's Love\n\nThere is power in a mother's love. A mother's love must be like God's\nlove. How God could ever tell the world that he loved it without a\nmother's help has often puzzled me. If the devils in hell ever turned\npale, it was the day mother's love flamed up for the first time in a\nwoman's heart. If the devil ever got \"cold feet\" it was that day, in my\njudgment.\n\nYou know a mother has to love her babe before it is born. Like God,\nshe has to go into the shadows of the valley of death to bring it into\nthe world, and she will love her child, suffer for it, and it can grow\nup and become vile and yet she will love it. Nothing will make her\nblame it, and I think, women, that one of the awful things in hell\nwill be that there will be no mother's love there. Nothing but black,\nbottomless, endless, eternal hate in hell--no mother's love.\n\n    \"And though he creep through the vilest caves of sin,\n    And crouch perhaps, with bleared and bloodshot eyes,\n    Under the hangman's rope--a mother's lips\n    Will kiss him in his last bed of disgrace,\n    And love him e'en for what she hoped of him.\"\n\nI thank God for what mother's love has done for the world.\n\nOh, there is power in a mother's trust. Surely as Moses was put in\nhis mother's arms by the princess, so God put the babes in your arms,\nas a charge from him to raise and care for. Every child is put in a\nmother's arms as a trust from God, and she has to answer to God for the\nway she deals with that child. No mother on God's earth has any right\nto raise her children for pleasure. She has no right to send them to\ndancing school and haunts of sin. You have no right to do those things\nthat will curse your children. That babe is put in your arms to train\nfor the Lord. No mother has any more right to raise her children for\npleasure than I have to pick your pockets or throw red pepper in your\neyes. She has no more right to do that than a bank cashier has to rifle\nthe vaults and take the savings of the people. One of the worst sins\nyou can commit is to be unfaithful to your trust.\n\n\nA Mother's Responsibility\n\n\"Take this child and nurse it for me.\" That is all the business you\nhave with it. That is a jewel that belongs to God and he gives it to\nyou to polish for him so he can set it in a crown. Who knows but that\nJudas became the godless, good-for-nothing wretch he was because he had\na godless, good-for-nothing mother? Do you know? I don't. What is more\nto blame for the crowded prisons than mothers? Who is more to blame for\nthe crowded disreputable houses than you are, who let your children\ngad the streets, with every Tom, Dick and Harry, or keep company with\nsome little jack rabbit whose character would make a black mark on a\npiece of tar paper? I have talked with men in prisons who have damned\ntheir mothers to my face. Why? They blame their mothers for their being\nwhere they are.\n\n\"Take the child and nurse it for me, and I will pay you your wages.\"\nGod pays in joy that is fireproof, famine-proof and devil-proof. He\nwill pay you, don't you worry. So get your name on God's pay-roll.\n\"Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will pay you your wages.\"\nIf you haven't been doing that, then get your name on God's pay-roll.\n\n\"Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will pay you your wages.\"\nThen your responsibility! It is so great that I don't see how any\nwoman can fail to be a Christian and serve God. What do you think God\nwill do if the mother fails? I stagger under it. What, if through your\nunfaithfulness, your boy becomes a curse and your daughter a blight?\nWhat, if through your neglect, that boy becomes a Judas when he might\nhave been a John or Paul?\n\nDown in Cincinnati some years ago a mother went to the zoological\ngarden and stood leaning over the bear pit, watching the bears and\ndropping crumbs and peanuts to them. In her arms she held her babe, a\nyear and three months old. She was so interested in the bears that the\nbaby wriggled itself out of her arms and fell into the bear pit, and\nshe watched those huge monsters rip it to shreds. What a veritable hell\nit will be through all her life to know that her little one was lost\nthrough her own carelessness and neglect!\n\n\"Take this child and raise it for me, and I will pay you your wages.\"\nWill you promise and covenant with God, and with me, and with one\nanother, that from now on you will try, with God's help, to do better\nthan you ever have done to raise your children for God?\n\n[Illustration: \"THE IDEAL MOTHER IS THE PRODUCT OF A CIVILIZATION THAT\nROSE FROM THE MANGER OF BETHLEHEM.\"]\n\n\"I once read the story of an angel who stole out of heaven and came to\nthis world one bright, sunshiny day; roamed through field, forest, city\nand hamlet, and as the sun went down plumed his wings for the return\nflight. The angel said: \"Now that my visit is over, before I return\nI must gather some mementos of my trip.\" He looked at the beautiful\nflowers in the garden and said: \"How lovely and fragrant,\" and plucked\nthe rarest roses, made a bouquet, and said: \"I see nothing more\nbeautiful and fragrant than these flowers.\" The angel looked farther\nand saw a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked child, and said: \"That baby is\nprettier than the flowers; I will take that, too,\" and looking behind\nto the cradle, he saw a mother's love pouring out over her babe like\na gushing spring, and the angel said: \"The mother's love is the most\nbeautiful thing I have seen! I will take that, too.\"\n\nAnd with these three treasures the heavenly messenger winged his flight\nto the pearly gates, saying: \"Before I go I must examine the mementos\nof my trip to the earth.\" He looked at the flowers; they had withered.\nHe looked at the baby's smile, and it had faded. He looked at the\nmother's love, and it shone in all its pristine beauty. Then he threw\naway the withered flowers, cast aside the faded smile, and with the\nmother's love pressed to his breast, swept through the gates into the\ncity, shouting that the only thing he had found that would retain its\nfragrance from earth to heaven was a mother's love.\n\n\"Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will pay you your wages.\"\n\nWhen Napoleon Bonaparte was asked, \"What do you regard as the greatest\nneed of France?\" he replied, \"Mothers, mothers, mothers.\" You women\ncan make a hell of a home or a heaven of a home. Don't turn your old\nGatling-gun tongue loose and rip everybody up and rip your husbands up\nand send them out of their homes. If I were going to investigate your\npiety I would ask the girl who works for you.\n\nThis talk about the land of the free is discounted when the children\nlook like a rummage sale in a second-hand store; with uncombed hair,\nripped pants, buttons off, stockings hanging down. It doesn't take the\nwisdom of truth to see that mother is too busy with her social duties,\nclubs, etc., to pay much attention to the kids.\n\n\nMothers of Great Men\n\nThe mother of Nero was a murderess, and it is no wonder that he fiddled\nwhile Rome burned. The mother of Patrick Henry was eloquent, and that\nis the reason why every school boy and girl knows, \"Give me liberty or\ngive me death.\" Coleridge's mother taught him Biblical stories from the\nold Dutch tile of the fireplace. In the home authority is needed today\nmore than at any time in the history of this nation. I have met upon\nthe arena of the conflict every form of man and beast imaginable to\nmeet, and I am convinced that neither law nor gospel can make a nation\nwithout home authority and home example. Those two things are needed.\nThe boy who has a wholesome home and surroundings and a judicious\ncontrol included does not often find his way into the reformatory.\n\nSusanna Wesley was the mother of nineteen children, and she held them\nfor God. When asked how she did it she replied, \"By getting hold of\ntheir hearts in their youth, and never losing my grip.\"\n\nIf it had not been for the expostulations of the mother of George\nWashington, George Washington would have become a midshipman in the\nBritish navy, and the name of that capital yonder would have been some\nother. John Randolph said in the House of Representatives, \"If it had\nnot been for my godly mother, I, John Randolph, would have been an\ninfidel.\" Gray, who wrote the \"Elegy in a Country Churchyard,\" said\nhe was one of a large family of children that had the misfortune to\nsurvive their mother. And I believe the ideal mother is the product of\na civilization that rose from the manger of Bethlehem.\n\nI am sure there is not an angel in heaven that would not be glad to\ncome to earth and be honored with motherhood if God would grant that\nprivilege. What a grand thing it must be, at the end of your earthly\ncareer, to look back upon a noble and godly life, knowing you did\nall you could to help leave this old world to God, and made your\ncontributions in tears and in prayers and taught your offspring to be\nGod-fearing, so that when you went you would continue to produce your\nnoble character in your children.\n\nI believe in blood; I believe in good blood, bad blood, honest blood,\nand thieving blood; in heroic blood and cowardly blood; in virtuous\nblood, in licentious blood, in drinking blood and in sober blood. The\nlips of the Hapsburgs tell of licentiousness; those of the Stuarts tell\nof cruelty, bigotry and sensuality, from Mary, queen of Scots, down to\nCharles the First and Charles the Second, James the First--who showed\nthe world what your fool of a Scotchman can be when he is a fool--down\nto King James the Second.\n\nScotch blood stands for stubbornness. They are full of\nstick-to-it-iveness. I know, Mrs. Sunday is full-blooded Scotch.\nEnglish blood speaks of reverence for the English. That is shown by the\nfact that England spent $50,000,000 recently to put a crown on George's\nhead. Danish blood tells of love of the sea. Welsh blood tells of\nreligious fervor and zeal for God. Jewish blood tells of love of money,\nfrom the days of Abraham down until now.\n\nYou may have read this story: Down in New York was a woman who said to\nher drunken son: \"Let's go down to the police court and have the judge\nsend you over to the island for a few weeks. Maybe you'll straighten\nup then and I can have some respect for you again.\" Down they went to\nthe police court and appeared before the judge. He asked who would make\nthe charge and the mother sprang forward with the words on her lips.\nThen she stopped short, turned to her son and throwing her arms about\nhis neck cried out: \"I can't! I can't! He is my son, I love him and I\ncan't.\" Then she fell at his feet dead. As dearly as she had loved her\ndrunken, bloated, loafing son she couldn't stand in judgment.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nStanding on the Rock\n\n If a doctor didn't know any more about Materia Medica than the\n average church member knows about the Bible, he'd be arrested for\n malpractice.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nA publisher remarked to me that a Billy Sunday campaign did not\ncreate a demand for religious books in general. With rather an air of\nfault-finding he said, \"You can't sell anything but Bibles to that\nBilly Sunday crowd.\"\n\nThat remark is illuminating. Billy Sunday does not create a cult: he\nsimply sends people back to the Bibles of their mothers. His converts\ndo not become disciples of any particular school of interpretation: the\nBible and the hymn book are their only armory. It cannot be gainsaid\nthat it is better to read the Bible than to read books about the Bible.\nThe work of Billy Sunday is not done with a convert until he has\ninspired that person to a love and loyalty for the old Book.\n\n\n THE STORY OF THE BRAZEN SERPENT\n\n BIBLE VERSION\n\n 5. And the people spake against God and against Moses, Wherefore have\n ye brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? for there is\n no bread, neither is there any water; and our soul loatheth this light\n bread.\n\n 6. And the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the\n people; and much people of Israel died.\n\n 7. Therefore the people came to Moses and said, We have sinned, for\n we have spoken against the Lord, and against thee; pray unto the Lord\n that he take away the serpents from us. And Moses prayed for the\n people.\n\n 8. And the Lord said unto Moses, Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it\n upon a pole: and it shall come to pass that every one that is bitten,\n when he looketh upon it, shall live.\n\n 9. And Moses made a serpent of brass and put it upon a pole and it\n came to pass, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the\n serpent of brass he lived.\n\n\n SUNDAY'S VERSION\n\n The Jews were in Egyptian bondage for years. God said he would release\n them, but he hadn't come. But God never forgets. So he came and chose\n Moses to lead them, and when Moses got them out in the wilderness they\n began to knock and said, \"Who is this Moses anyway? We don't know him.\n Were there not enough graves in Egypt?\" and they said they didn't like\n the white bread they were getting and wanted the onions and the leeks\n and the garlic and melons of Egypt, and they found fault. And God sent\n the serpents and was going to kill them all, but Moses interceded and\n said, \"Now see here, God.\" But the Lord said, \"Get out of the way,\n Moses, and let me kill them all.\" But Moses said, \"Hold on there,\n Lord. That bunch would have the laugh on you if you did that. They'd\n say you brought them out here and the commissary stores ran out and\n you couldn't feed them, so you just killed them all.\" So God said,\n \"All right, for your sake, Moses, I won't,\" and he said, \"Moses, you\n go and set up a brazen serpent in the wilderness and that will be the\n one thing that will save them if they are bitten. They must look or\n die.\"\n\nSuch passages as this show the uncompromising loyalty of Sunday to the\nBible:\n\n\"Here is a book, God's Word, that I will put up against all the books\nof all the ages. You can't improve on the Bible. You can take all\nthe histories of all the nations of all the ages and cut out of them\nall that is ennobling, all that is inspiring, and compile that into\na common book, but you cannot produce a work that will touch the hem\nof the garment of the Book I hold in my hand. It is said, 'Why cannot\nwe improve on the Bible? We have advanced everything else.' No, sir.\n'Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My Word shall not.' And so\nthis old Book, which is the Word of God, the Word of Jesus Christ, is\nthe book I intend to preach by everywhere. The religion that has\nwithstood the sophistry and the criticism of the ages, the sarcasm\nof Voltaire, the irony of Hume, the blasphemy of Ingersoll, the\nastronomer's telescope, the arch\u00e6ologist's spade and the physician's\nscalpel--they have all tried to prove the Bible false, but the old Book\nis too tough for the tooth of time, and she stands triumphant over the\ngrave of all that have railed upon her. God Almighty is still on the\njob. Some people act as though they had sent for the undertaker to come\nto embalm God and bury him. But it is the truth; it is not an accident\nthat places the Christian nations in the forefront of the world's\nbattles. It is something more than race, color, climate, that causes\nthe difference between the people that dwell on the banks of the Congo\nand those in this valley. The scale of civilization always ascends the\nline of religion; the highest civilization always goes hand in hand\nwith the purest religion.\"\n\nRigid as he is in literal interpretation of the Bible, Sunday is\ncelebrated for his paraphrases of favorite passages, a recasting of the\nfamiliar form of words into the speech of the day. Some of these \"slang\nversions\" of the old Book make one gasp; but generally the evangelist\ngets the innermost meaning of the Book itself. He is not an interpreter\nof the Bible but a popularizer of it. He does not expound the Scripture\nas much as he pounds in the Scripture. The Bible and its place in the\nlife of the Christian are often on the Evangelist's lips.\n\nHere, for instance, is his interpretation of the story of David and\nGoliath:\n\n\"All of the sons of Jesse except David went off to war; they left\nDavid at home because he was only a kid. After a while David's ma got\nworried. She wondered what had become of his brothers, because they\nhadn't telephoned to her or sent word. So she said to David, 'Dave, you\ngo down there and see whether they are all right.'\n\n\"So David pikes off to where the war is, and the first morning he was\nthere out comes this big Goliath, a big, strapping fellow about eleven\nfeet tall, who commenced to shoot off his mouth as to what he was going\nto do.\n\n\"'Who's that big stiff putting up that game of talk?' asked David of\nhis brothers.\n\n\"'Oh, he's the whole works; he's the head cheese of the Philistines. He\ndoes that little stunt every day.'\n\n\"'Say,' said David, 'you guys make me sick. Why don't some of you\ngo out and soak that guy? You let him get away with that stuff.' He\ndecided to go out and tell Goliath where to head in.\n\n\"So Saul said, 'You'd better take my armor and sword.' David put them\non, but he felt like a fellow with a hand-me-down suit about four times\ntoo big for him, so he took them off and went down to the brook and\npicked up a half dozen stones. He put one of them in his sling, threw\nit, and soaked Goliath in the coco between the lamps, and he went down\nfor the count. David drew his sword and chopped off his block, and the\nrest of the gang beat it.\"\n\n\nSUNDAY UTTERANCES ON THE BIBLE\n\nThe Bible is the Word of God. Nothing has ever been more clearly\nestablished in the world today, and God blesses every people and\nnation that reverence it. It has stood the test of time. No book has\nso endured through the ages. No book has been so hated. Everything the\ncunning of man, philosophy, brutality, could contrive has been done,\nbut it has withstood them all.\n\nThere is no book which has such a circulation today. Bibles are\ndropping from the press like the leaves in autumn. There are\n200,000,000 copies. It is read by all nations. It has been translated\ninto five hundred languages and dialects.\n\nNo book ever came by luck or chance. Every book owes its existence\nto some being or beings, and within the range and scope of human\nintelligence there are but three things--good, bad, and God. All that\noriginates in intellect, all which the intellect can comprehend, must\ncome from one of the three. This book, the Bible, could not possibly\nbe the product of evil, wicked, godless, corrupt, vile men, for it\npronounces the heaviest penalties against sin. Like produces like, and\nif bad men were writing the Bible they never would have pronounced\ncondemnation and punishment against wrong-doing. The holy men of old,\nwe are told, \"spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.\" Men do not\nattribute these beautiful and matchless and well-arranged sentences to\nhuman intelligence alone, but we are told that men spake as they were\ninspired by the Holy Ghost. The only being left, to whom you, or I, or\nany sensible person could ascribe the origin of the Bible, is God.\n\n[Illustration: BITING, BLISTERING, BLASTING CONDEMNATION OF SIN. THIS\nRARE PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS THE TREMENDOUS EARNESTNESS OF MR. SUNDAY AND THE\nENERGY, ZEAL AND FIRE HE PUTS INTO HIS MESSAGE WHICH HAS WARMED THIS\nCOLD WORLD MORE THAN THAT OF ANY OTHER APOSTLE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS IN THIS\nGENERATION.]\n\nMen have been thrown to beasts and burned to death for having a Bible\nin their possession. There have been wars over the Bible; cities have\nbeen destroyed. Nothing ever brought such persecution as the Bible.\nEverything vile, dirty, rotten and iniquitous has been brought to bear\nagainst it because it reveals man's cussedness. But it's here, and its\npower and influence are greater today than ever.\n\nSaloons, bawdy houses, gambling hells, every rake, every white-slaver,\nevery panderer and everything evil has been against it, but it is the\nword of God, and millions of people know it.\n\nThis being true, it is of the highest importance that you should think\nof the truths in it. I'll bet my life that there are hundreds of you\nthat haven't read ten pages of the Bible in ten years. Some of you\nnever open it except at a birth, a marriage or a death, and then just\nto keep your family records straight. That's a disgrace and an insult.\nI repeat it, it's a disgrace and an insult. Don't blame God if you wind\nup in hell, after God warned you, because you didn't take time to read\nit and think about it.\n\nIt is the only book that tells us of a God that we can love, a heaven\nto win, a hell to shun and a Saviour that can save. Why did God give us\nthe Bible? So that we might believe in Christ. No other book tells us\nthis. It tells us why the Bible was written, that we might believe and\nbe saved. You don't read a railroad guide to learn to raise buckwheat.\nYou don't read a cook book to learn to shoe horses. You don't read an\narithmetic to learn the history of the United States. A geography does\nnot tell you about how to make buckwheat cakes. No, you read a railroad\nguide to learn about the trains, a cook book to learn to make buckwheat\ncakes, an arithmetic for arithmetic and a geography for geography. If\nyou want to get out of a book what the author put in it, find out why\nit was written. That's the way to get good out of a book. Read it.\n\nIt was written that you might read and believe that Jesus is the Son\nof God. The Bible wasn't intended for a history or a cook book. It was\nintended to keep me from going to hell.\n\nThe greatest good can be had from anything by using it for the purpose\nfor which it was intended. A loaf of bread and a brick may look alike,\nbut try and exchange them and see. You build a house with brick, but\nyou can't eat it. The purpose of a time table is to give the time of\ntrains, the junctions, the different railroads. A man that has been\nover the road knows more about it than a man who has never been over\nit. A man who has made the journey of life guided by the Bible knows\nmore about it than any high-browed lobster who has never lived a word\nof it. Then whom are you going to believe, the man who has tried it or\nthe man who knows nothing about it?\n\nThe Bible was not intended for a science any more than a crowbar is\nintended for a toothpick. The Bible was written to tell men that they\nmight live, and it's true today.\n\nOne man says: \"I do not believe in the Bible because of its\ninconsistencies.\" I say the greatest inconsistency is in your life--not\nin the Bible! I bring up before you the memory of some evil deed, and\nyou immediately begin to find fault with the Bible! Go to a man and\ntalk business or politics and he talks sense. Go to a woman and talk\nsociety, clubs or dress, and she talks sense. Talk religion to them,\nand they will talk nonsense!\n\nI want to say that I believe that the Bible is the Word of God from\ncover to cover. Not because I understand its philosophy, speculation,\nor theory. I cannot; wouldn't attempt it; and I would be a fool if I\ntried. I believe it because it is from the mouth of God; the mouth of\nGod has spoken it.\n\nThere is only one way to have the doubts destroyed. Read the Bible\nand obey it. You say you can't understand it. There's an A, B, C in\nreligion, just as in everything else. When you go to school you learn\nthe A, B, C's and pretty soon can understand something you thought you\nnever could when you started out. So in religion. Begin with the simple\nthings and go on and you'll understand. That's what it was written for,\nthat you might read and believe and be saved. I'm willing to stand here\nand take the hand of any man or woman if you are willing to come and\nbegin with the knowledge you have.\n\nIn South Africa there are diamond mines and the fact has been heralded\nto every corner of the world. But only those that dig for them get\nthe diamonds. So it is with the Bible. Dig and you'll find gold and\nsalvation. You have to dig out the truths.\n\nYears ago in Sing Sing prison there was a convict by the name of Jerry\nMcCauley and one day an old pal of his came back to the prison and told\nhim how he had been saved, and quoted a verse of Scripture. McCauley\ndidn't know where to find the verse in the Bible, so he started in at\nthe first and read through until he came to it. It was away over in\nthe ninth chapter of Hebrews. But he found Jesus Christ while he was\nreading it. He lived a godly life until the day he died.\n\nSupposing a man should come to you and say, \"The title to your property\nis no good and if some one contests it you will lose?\" Would you laugh\nand go on about your business? No, sir! You would go to the court\nhouse and if you could find it in only one book there, the book in the\nrecorder's office, you'd search and find it, and if the recorder said\nthe deed was all right you could laugh at whatever any one else said.\n\nThere is only one book in the world that tells me about my soul. It\nsays if you believe you're saved, if you don't you are damned. God said\nit and it's all true. Every man who believes in the Bible shall live\nforever. The Bible says heaven or hell, so why do you resist?\n\nNo words are put in the Bible for effect. The Bible talks to us so we\ncan understand. God could use language that no one could understand.\nBut we can not understand all by simply hearing and reading. When we\nsee we will know.\n\n    \"I stood one day beside a blacksmith's door,\n      And heard the anvil beat and the bellows chime;\n    Looking in, I saw upon the floor\n      Old hammers worn out with beating years and years of time.\n\n    \"'How many anvils have you had?' said I,\n      'To wear and batter all these hammers so?'\n    'Just one,' said he, then said with twinkling eye,\n      'The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.'\n\n    \"So methought, the anvils of God's word--\n      Of Jesus' sacrifice--have been beat upon--\n    The noise of falling blows was heard--\n      The anvil is unharmed--the hammers are all gone.\"\n\nJulian the apostate was a hammer. Gone! Voltaire, Renan, hammers. Gone!\nIn Germany, Goethe, Strauss, Schleiermacher--gone. In England, Mill,\nHume, Hobbes, Darwin, Huxley and Spencer--the anvil remains; the hammer\nis gone. In America, Thomas Paine, Parker, Ingersoll, gone. The anvil\nremains.\n\nListen. In France a hundred years ago or more they were printing\nand circulating infidel literature at the expense of $4,500,000 a\nyear. What was the result? God was denied, the Bible sneered at and\nridiculed, and between 1792 and 1795 one million twenty thousand and\nfifty-one hundred people were brought to death. The Word of God stood\nunshaken amidst it all. Josh Billings said: \"I would rather be an\nidiot than an infidel; because if I am an infidel I made myself so, but\nif I am an idiot somebody else did it.\" Oh, the wreckers' lights on the\ndangerous coasts that try to allure and drag us away from God have all\ngone out, but God's words shine on.\n\nThe vital truths of the Bible are more believed in the world today\nthan at any other time. When a man becomes so intelligent that he can\nnot accept the Bible, too progressive to be a Christian, that man's\ninfluence for good, in society, in business or as a companion, is at\nan end. Some think that being a doubter is an evidence of superior\nintellect. No!\n\nI've never found a dozen men in my life who disbelieved in the Bible\nbut what they were hugging some secret sin. When you are willing to\ngive up that pet sin you will find it easy to believe in the Bible.\n\nIt explains to me why Saul of Tarsus, the murderer, was changed to\nPaul, the apostle. It explains to me why David Livingstone left his\nHighland home to go to darkest Africa. It explains to me why the Earl\nof Shaftesbury was made from a drunkard into a power for God in London\nfor sixty-five years. It explains why missionaries leave home and\nfriends to go into unknown lands and preach Jesus Christ, and perhaps\nto die at the hands of the natives.\n\nI can see in this book God revealed to man and when I do and accept, I\nam satisfied. It is just what you need to be satisfied. God knows your\nevery need.\n\nThis explains to me why Jesus Christ has such influence on men and\nwomen in the world today. No man ever had such influence to teach men\nand women virtue and goodness as Christ. This influence has been in the\nworld from 2,000 years ago to the present time. The human heart is to\nJesus like a great piano. First he plays the sad melodies of repentance\nand then the joyful hallelujahs.\n\nThe Bible has promises running all through it and God wants you to\nappropriate them for your use. They are like a bank note. They are of\nno value unless used. You might starve to death if you have money in\nyour pockets, but won't use it. So the promises may not do you any\ngood because you will not use them. The Bible is a galaxy of promises\nlike the Milky Way in the heavens.\n\nWhen you are in trouble, instead of going to your Bible, you let them\ngrow, and they grow faster than Jonah's gourd vine. You're afraid to\nstep out on the promises.\n\nThere are many exceedingly great and precious promises in the Bible.\nHere is one:\n\n\"Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father\nmay be glorified in the Son.\"\n\nIf some of you would receive such a promise from John D. Rockefeller or\nAndrew Carnegie, you'd sit up all night writing out checks to be cashed\nin the morning. And yet you let the Bible lie on the table.\n\nBut the infidel says: \"Mr. Sunday, why are there so many intelligent\npeople in the world that don't believe the Bible?\"\n\nDo you wonder that it was an infidel who started the question: \"Is life\nworth living?\" Do you wonder that it was some fool woman, an infidel\nwoman, that first started the question: \"Is marriage a failure?\" A\nfool, infidel woman. Christians do not ask such fool questions. Would\nyou be surprised to be reminded that infidel writers and speakers have\nalways and do always advocate and condone and excuse suicide? Do you\nknow that in infidelity the gospel is suicide? That is their theory and\nI don't blame them, and the sooner they leave the world the better the\nworld will be.\n\nThe great men of the ages are on the side of the Bible. A good many\ninfidels talk as though the great minds of the world were arrayed\nagainst Christianity and the Bible. Great statesmen, inventors,\npainters, poets, artists, musicians, have lifted up their hearts in\nprayer. Watt, the inventor of the steam engine, was a Christian;\nFulton, the inventor of the steamboat, was a Christian; Cyrus\nMcCormick, who first invented the self-binder, was a Christian; Morse,\nwho invented the telegraph, and the first message that ever flashed\nover the wire was from Deuteronomy--'What hath God wrought'. Edison,\nalthough a doubter in some things, said that there was evidence enough\nin chemistry to prove the existence of a God, if there was no evidence\nbesides that. George Washington was a Christian. Abraham Lincoln was\na Christian, and with Bishop Simpson knelt on his knees in the White\nHouse, praying God to give victory to the Army of the Blue. John Hay,\nthe brightest Secretary of State that ever managed the affairs of\nstate, in my judgment, was a Christian. William Jennings Bryan, a man\nas clean as a hound's tooth; Garfield, McKinley, Grover Cleveland,\nHarrison, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson--all Christians.\n\nThe poets drew their inspiration from the Bible. Dante's \"Inferno,\"\nMilton's \"Paradise Lost,\" two of the greatest works ever written,\nwere inspired by the Word of God. Lord Byron, although a profligate,\ndrew his inspiration from the Word of God. Shakespeare's works abound\nwith quotations from the Bible. John G. Whittier, Longfellow, Michael\nAngelo, who painted \"The Last Judgment,\" Raphael, who painted the\n\"Madonna of the Chair,\" Da Vinci, who painted \"The Last Supper,\"\nall dipped their brushes in the light of heaven and painted for\neternity. The great men of the world of all ages, of science, art, or\nstatesmanship, have all believed in Jesus Christ as the Son of God.\n\nTwenty-seven years ago, with the Holy Spirit for my guide, I entered\nthis wonderful temple that we call Christianity. I entered through the\nportico of Genesis and walked down through the Old Testament's art\ngallery, where I saw the portraits of Joseph, Jacob, Daniel, Moses,\nIsaiah, Solomon and David hanging on the wall; I entered the music room\nof the Psalms and the Spirit of God struck the keyboard of my nature\nuntil it seemed to me that every reed and pipe in God's great organ of\nnature responded to the harp of David, and the charm of King Solomon in\nhis moods.\n\nI walked into the business house of Proverbs.\n\nI walked into the observatory of the prophets and there saw\nphotographs of various sizes, some pointing to far-off stars or\nevents--all concentrated upon one great Star which was to rise as an\natonement for sin.\n\nThen I went into the audience room of the King of Kings, and got a\nvision from four different points--from Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.\nI went into the correspondence room, and saw Peter, James, Paul and\nJude, penning their epistles to the world. I went into the Acts of the\nApostles and saw the Holy Spirit forming the Holy Church, and then I\nwalked into the throne room and saw a door at the foot of a tower and,\ngoing up, I saw One standing there, fair as the morning, Jesus Christ,\nthe Son of God, and I found this truest friend that man ever knew; when\nall were false I found him true.\n\nIn teaching me the way of life, the Bible has taught me the way to\nlive, it taught me how to die.\n\nSo that is why I am here, sober and a Christian, instead of a\nbooze-hoisting infidel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nMaking a Joyful Noise\n\n Don't look as if your religion hurt you.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\n\"He hath put a new song in my mouth.\" That is real religion which sets\nthe saints to singing. Gloomy Christians are a poor advertisement of\nthe Gospel. There is nothing of gloom about a Billy Sunday revival.\n\nShrewd students of the campaigns have often remarked that there are\nso few tears and so much laughter at the evangelist's services. There\nis scarcely one of Sunday's sermons in which he does not make the\ncongregation laugh. All of his work is attuned to the note of vitality,\nrobustness and happiness. Concerning the long-faced Christian Sunday\nsays:\n\n\"Some people couldn't have faces any longer if they thought God was\ndead. They ought to pray to stop looking so sour. If they smile it\nlooks like it hurts them, and you're always glad when they stop\nsmiling. If Paul and Silas had had such long faces as some church\nmembers have on them when they went into the Philippian jail, the\njailer would never have been saved. There never was a greater mistake\nthan to suppose that God wants you to be long-faced when you put on\nyour good clothes. You'd better not fast at all if you give the devil\nall the benefit. God wants people to be happy.\n\n\"The matter with a lot of you people is that your religion is not\ncomplete. You have not yielded yourself to God and gone out for God\nand God's truth. Why, I am almost afraid to make some folks laugh for\nfear that I will be arrested for breaking a costly piece of antique\nbric-\u00e0-brac. You would think that if some people laughed it would break\ntheir faces. I want to tell you that the happy, smiling, sunny-faced\nreligion will win more people to Jesus Christ than the miserable old\ngrim-faced kind will in ten years. I pity any one who can't laugh.\nThere must be something wrong with their religion or their liver. The\ndevil can't laugh.\n\n    \"'Oh, laugh and the world laughs with you,\n      Weep and you weep alone;\n    'Tis easy enough to be pleasant\n      When life moves along like a song;\n    But the man worth while is the man who can smile\n      When everything goes dead wrong.'\n\n\"Don't look as if religion hurt you. Don't look as if you had on a\nnumber two shoe when you ought to be wearing a number five. I see some\nwomen who look as if they had the toothache. That won't win anyone for\nChrist. Look pleasant. Look as if religion made you happy, when you had\nit.\n\n\"Then there is music. When you get to heaven you'll find that not all\nhave been preached there. They have been sung there. God pity us when\nmusic is not for the glory of God. Some of you will sing for money and\nfor honor, but you won't sing in the church. Much of the church music\ntoday is all poppycock and nonsense. Some of these high-priced sopranos\nget up in church and do a little diaphragm wiggle and make a noise like\na horse neighing. I don't wonder the people in the congregation have a\nhard time of it.\"\n\nSo Sunday sets the city to singing. His sermons are framed in\nmusic--and not music that is a performance by some soloist, but music\nthat ministers to his message. His gospel is sung as well as preached.\nThe singing is as essential a part of the service as the sermon.\nEverybody likes good music, especially of a popular sort. Sunday sees\nthat this taste is gratified.\n\nThe Tabernacle music in itself is enough to draw the great throngs\nwhich nightly crowd the building. The choir furnishes not only the\nmelodies but also a rare spectacle. This splendid regiment of helpers\nseated back of the speaker affects both the eyes and the ears of the\naudiences. Without his choirs Sunday could scarcely conduct his great\ncampaigns. These helpers are all volunteers, and their steadfast\nloyalty throughout weeks of strenuous meetings in all kinds of weather\nis a Christian service of the first order.\n\n[Illustration: \"SOME OF THESE HIGH-PRICED SOPRANOS GET UP IN CHURCH AND\nMAKE A NOISE LIKE A HORSE NEIGHING.\"]\n\nTrue, membership in a Sunday choir is in itself an avocation, a social\nand religious interest that enriches the lives of the choir members.\nThey \"belong\" to something big and popular. They have new themes for\nconversation. New acquaintances are made. The associations first formed\nin the Sunday choir have in many cases continued as the most sacred\nrelations of life. The brightest spot in the monotony of many a young\nperson's life has been his or her membership in the Billy Sunday choir.\n\nThe choir also has the advantage of a musical drill and experience\nwhich could be secured in no other fashion. All the advantages of\ntrained leadership are given in return for the volunteer service.\nIncidentally, the choir members know that they are serving their\nchurches and their communities in a deep and far-reaching fashion.\n\nMany visitors to the Sunday Tabernacle are surprised to find that the\nmusic is of such fine quality. There is less \"religious rag-time\" than\nis commonly associated with the idea of revival meetings. More than a\nfair half of the music sung is that which holds an established place in\nthe hymnody of all churches.\n\nThere is more to the music of a campaign than the volume of singing\nby the choir, with an occasional solo by the chorister or some chosen\nperson. A variety of ingenious devices are employed to heighten the\nimpression of the music. Thus a common antiphonal effect is obtained\nby having the choir sing one line of a hymn and the last ten rows of\npersons in the rear of the Tabernacle sing the answering line. The old\nhymn \"For You I am Praying\" is used with electrical effect in this\nfashion. Part singing is employed in ways that are possible only to\nsuch a large chorus as the musical director of the Sunday campaigns has\nat his command.\n\nA genius for mutuality characterizes the Sunday song services. The\naudiences are given a share in the music. Not only are they requested\nto join in the singing, but they are permitted to choose their favorite\nhymns, and frequently the choir is called upon to listen while the\naudience sings.\n\nVarious delegations are permitted to sing hymns of their own choice.\nDiversity, and variety and vim seem to be the objective of the musical\npart of the program. From half an hour to an hour of this varied music\nintroduces each service. When the evangelist himself is ready to\npreach, the crowd has been worked up into a glow and fervor that make\nit receptive to his message.\n\nIf some stickler for ritual and stateliness objects that these services\nare entirely too informal, and too much like a political campaign, the\npartisan of Mr. Sunday will heartily assent. These are great American\ncrowds in their every-day humor. These evangelistic meetings are not\nregular church services. It has already been made plain that there is\nno \"dim religious light\" about the Sunday Tabernacle meetings.\n\nIt is a tribute to the comprehensiveness of the Sunday method that they\nbring together the most representative gatherings imaginable every\nday under the unadorned rafters of the big wooden shell called the\nTabernacle. Shrewdly, the evangelist has made sure of the democratic\nquality of his congregation. He has succeeded in having the gospel sing\nits way into the affection and interest of every-day folk.\n\nIt is no valid objection to the Sunday music that it is so thoroughly\nentertaining. The Tabernacle crowds sing, not as a religious duty,\nbut for the sheer joy of singing. One of the commonest remarks heard\namid the crowd is \"I never expect to hear such singing again till I\nget to Heaven.\" It is real Christian ministry to put the melodies of\nthe Gospel into the memories of the multitudes, and to brighten with\nthe songs of salvation the gray days of the burden-bearers of the\nworld. Boys and men on the street whistle Gospel songs. The echoes\nof Tabernacle music may be heard long after Mr. Sunday has gone from\na community in ten thousand kitchens and in the shops and factories\nand stores of the community. This is the strategy of \"the expulsive\npower of a new affection.\" These meetings give to Christians a new and\njubilant affirmation, instead of a mere defense for their faith. The\ncampaign music carries the campaign message farther than the voice of\nany man could ever penetrate.\n\nUpon the place of music in the Christian life Sunday says: \"For sixteen\nyears there had been no songs in Jerusalem. It must have been a great\nloss to the Jews, for everywhere we read we find them singing. They\nsang all the way to the Red Sea, they sang when Jesus was born, they\nsang at the Last Supper and when Jesus was arisen.\n\n\"Song has always been inseparably associated with the advancement of\nGod's word. You'll find when religion is at low ebb the song will\ncease. Many of the great revivals have been almost entirely song.\nThe great Welsh revival was mostly song. In the movements of Martin\nLuther, Wesley, Moody and Torrey you will find abundance of song. When\na church congregation gets at such low ebb that they can't sing and\nhave to hire a professional choir to sing for them, they haven't got\nmuch religion. And some of those choir members are so stuck up they\nwon't sing in a chorus. If I had a bunch like that they'd quit or I\nwould.\n\n\"Take the twenty-fourth Psalm, 'Lift up your heads, O ye gates,' and\nthe thirty-third Psalm. They were written by David to be sung in the\ntemple.\n\n\"I can imagine his singing them now. They were David's own experiences.\nLook at them. Now you hear an old lobster get up to give an experience,\n'Forty years ago I started forth--.' The same old stereotyped form.\n\n\"There's many a life today which has no song. The most popular song for\nmost of you would be,\n\n    \"'Where is that joy which once I knew,\n    When first I loved the Lord?'\"\n\nRight behind you where you left it when you went to that card party;\nright where you left it when you began to go to the theater; right\nwhere you left it when you side-stepped and backslid; right where you\nleft it when you began paying one hundred dollars for a dress and gave\ntwenty-five cents to the Lord; right where you left it when you began\nto gossip.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nThe Prophet and His Own Time\n\n There wouldn't be so many non-church goers if there were not so many\n non-going churches.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nA prophet to his own generation is Billy Sunday. In the speech of\ntoday he arraigns the sins of today and seeks to satisfy the needs of\ntoday. A man singularly free and fearless, he applies the Gospel to\nthe conditions of the present moment. Knowing life on various levels,\nhe preaches with a definiteness and an appropriateness that echo the\nprophet Nathan's \"Thou art the man.\" By the very structure of Billy\nSunday's mentality it is made difficult for him to be abstract. He has\nto deal definitely with concrete sins.\n\nNow a pastor would find it difficult to approach, in the ruthless and\nreckless fashion of Billy Sunday, the shortcomings of his members and\nneighbors. He has to live with his congregation, year in and year out;\nbut the evangelist is as irresponsible as John the Baptist on the banks\nof the Jordan. He has no affiliations to consider and no consequences\nto fear, except the Kingdom's welfare. His only concern is for the\ntruth and applicability of his message. He is perfectly heedless about\noffending hearers. Those well-meaning persons who would compare Billy\nSunday with the average pastor should bear this in mind.\n\nA rare gift of satire and scorn and invective and ridicule has been\ngiven to Sunday. He has been equipped with powerful weapons which are\ntoo often missing from the armory of the average Gospel soldier. His\naptitude for puncturing sham is almost without a peer in contemporary\nlife. Few orators in any field have his art of heaping up adjectives to\na towering height that overwhelms their objective.\n\nNor does the Church escape Sunday's plain dealing. He treats vigorously\nher shortcomings and her imperfections. Usually, the persons who hear\nthe first half dozen or dozen sermons in one of his campaigns are\nshocked by the reckless way in which the evangelist handles the Church\nand church members.\n\nOthers, forewarned, perceive the psychology of it. It is clear that\nin Sunday's thinking the purity of the Church is all-important.\nComplacency with any degree of corruption or inefficiency on her part\nhe would regard as sin. So he unsparingly belabors the Church and her\nministry for all the good that they have left undone and all amiss that\nthey have done.\n\nThe net result of this is that the evangelist leaves on the minds of\nthe multitudes, to whom the Church has been a negligible quantity, a\ntremendous impression of her pre-eminent importance. It is true that\nsometimes, after a Sunday campaign, a few ministers have to leave their\nchurches, because of the new spirit of efficiency and spirituality\nwhich he has imparted. They have simply been unable to measure up to\nthe new opportunity. On the whole, however, it is clear that he imparts\na new sense of dignity and a new field of leadership to the ministers\nof the Gospel in the communities he has served. Testimony on this point\nseems to be conclusive.\n\nGiven prophets of today, with the conviction that both Church and\nsocial life should square with the teaching of Jesus Christ, and you\nhave revolutionary possibilities for any community. Fair samples of\nSunday's treatment of the Church and of society are these:\n\n\"There is but one voice from the faithful preacher about the\nChurch--that is she is sick. But we say it in such painless, delicate\nterms; we work with such tender massage, that she seems to enjoy her\ninvalidism. I'm coming with my scalpel to cut into the old sores\nand ulcers and drive them out. I feel the pulse and say it's pus\ntemperature. The temperature's high. I'm trying to remove from the\nChurch the putrefying abscess which is boring into its vitals. About\nfour out of every five who have their names on our church records are\ndoing absolutely nothing to bring anybody to Christ and the Church is\nnot a whit better for their having lived in it. Christians are making a\ngreat deal of Lent. I believe in Lent. I'll tell you what kind, though.\nI believe in a Lent that is kept 365 days in the year for Jesus Christ.\nThat is the kind I like to see. Some people will go to hell sure if\nthey die out of the Lenten season. I hate to see a man get enough\nreligion in forty days to last him and then live like the devil the\nrest of the year. If you can reform for forty days you can reform for\nthe year.\n\n\"The Jewish Church ran up against this snag and was wrecked. The Roman\nCatholic Church ran up against it and split. All of the churches today\nare fast approaching the same doom.\n\n\"The dangers to the Church, as I see them, are assimilation with the\nworld, the neglect of the poor, substitution of forms for godliness;\nand all summed up mean a fashionable church with religion left out.\nFormerly Methodists used to attend class meetings. Now these are\nabandoned in many churches. Formerly shouts of praise were heard. Now\nsuch holy demonstration is considered undignified. Once in a while\nsome good, godly sister forgets herself and pipes out in a falsetto,\napologetic sort of a key: 'Amen, Brother Sunday.' I don't expect any\nof those ossified, petrified, dyed-in-the-wool, stamped-on-the-cork\nPresbyterians or Episcopalians to shout, 'Amen,' but it would do you\ngood and loosen you up. It won't hurt you a bit. You are hidebound.\nI think about half the professing Christians amount to nothing as a\nspiritual force. They have a kind regard for religion, but as for\nevangelical service, as for a cheerful spirit of self-denial, as for\nprevailing prayer, willingness to strike hard blows against the devil,\nthey are almost a failure. I read the other day of a shell which had\nbeen invented which is hurled on a ship and when it explodes it puts\nall on board asleep. I sometimes think one of these shells has hit the\nChurch.\n\n\"What are some people going to do about the Judgment? Some are just\nin life for the money they get out of it. They will tell you north\nis south if they think they can get a dollar by it. They float\nget-rich-quick schemes and anything for money. I haven't a word to say\nabout a man who has earned his money honestly, uses it to provide for\nhis family and spends the surplus for good. You know there is a bunch\nof mutts that sit around on stools and whittle and spit and cuss and\ndamn and say that every man who has an honest dollar ought to divide\nit with them, while others get out and get busy and work and sweat and\ntoil and prepare to leave something for their wives and families when\nthey die, and spend the rest for good.\n\n\"Old Commodore Vanderbilt had a fortune of over $200,000,000, and one\nday when he was ill he sent for Dr. Deems. He asked him to sing for him\nthat old song:\n\n    'Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,\n    Come, ye wounded, sick and sore.'\n\nThe old commodore tossed from side to side, looked around at the\nevidence of his wealth, and he said: 'That's what I am, poor and\nneedy.' Who? Commodore Vanderbilt poor and needy with his $200,000,000?\nThe foundation of that fabulous fortune was laid by him when he poled\na yawl from New York to Staten Island and picked up pennies for doing\nit. The foundation of the immense Astor fortune was laid by John Jacob\nAstor when he went out and bought fur and hides from trappers and put\nthe money in New York real estate. The next day in the street one man\nsaid to another: 'Have you heard the news? Commodore Vanderbilt is\ndead.' 'How much did he leave?' 'He left it all.'\n\n\"Naked you came into this world, and naked you will crawl out of it.\nYou brought nothing into the world and you will take nothing out, and\nif you have put the pack screws on the poor and piled up a pile of gold\nas big as a house you can't take it with you. It wouldn't do you any\ngood if you could, because it would melt.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nThose Billy Sunday Prayers\n\n I never preach a sermon until I have soaked it in prayer.--BILLY\n SUNDAY.\n\n\nConcerning the prayers of Sunday there is little to be said except to\nquote samples of them and let the reader judge for himself.\n\nThat they are unconventional no one will deny; many have gone farther\nand have said that they are almost sacrilegious. The charge has often\nbeen made that the evangelist addresses his prayers to the crowd\ninstead of to God. No one criticism has oftener been made of Mr. Sunday\nby sensitive and thoughtful ministers of the Gospel, than that his\npublic prayers seem to be lacking in fundamental reverence.\n\nThe defender of Sunday rejoins, \"He talks to Jesus as familiarly as\nhe talks to one of his associates.\" Really, though, there is deep\ndifference. His fellow-workers are only fellow-workers, but of the\nLord, \"Holy and reverend is his name.\" Many of the warmest admirers of\nthe evangelist do not attempt to defend all of his prayers.\n\nProbably Sunday does not know that in all the Oriental, and some\nEuropean, languages there is a special form of speech reserved for\nroyalty; and that it would be an affront to address a king by the same\nterm as the commoner. The outward signs of this mental attitude of\nreverence in prayer are unquestionably lacking in Sunday.\n\nHis usual procedure is to begin to pray at the end of a sermon, without\nany interval or any prefatory remarks, such as \"Let us pray.\" For an\ninstant, the crowd does not realize that he is praying. He closes his\neyes and says, \"Now Jesus, you know,\" and so forth, just as he would\nsay to the chorister, \"Rody, what is the name of that delegation?\"\nIndeed, I have heard him interject just this inquiry into a prayer. Or\nhe will mention \"that Bible class over to my right, near the platform.\"\nHe will use the same colloquial figures of speech in a prayer--baseball\nphrases, for instance--that he does in his sermons. Sometimes it is\nreally difficult to tell whether he is addressing the Lord or the\naudience.\n\nMore direct familiar, childish petitions were never addressed to the\nDeity than are heard at the Sunday meetings. They run so counter to\nall religious conceptions of a reverential approach to the throne of\ngrace that one marvels at the charity of the ministers in letting him\ngo unrebuked. But they say \"It's Billy,\" and so it is. That is the\nway the man prays in private, for I have heard him in his own room,\nbefore starting out to preach; and in entirely the same intimate,\nunconventional fashion he asks the help of Jesus in his preaching and\nin the meetings. But to the prayers themselves:\n\n \"O God, help this old world. May the men who have been drunkards be\n made better; may the men who beat their wives and curse their children\n come to Jesus; may the children who have feared to hear the footsteps\n of their father, rejoice again when they see the parent coming up\n the steps of the home. Bring the Church up to help the work. Bless\n them, Lord. Bless the preachers: bless the officials of the Church\n and bless everyone in them. Save the men in the mines. Save the poor\n breaker boys as they toil day by day in dangers; save them for their\n mothers and fathers and bring them to Jesus. Bless the policemen, the\n newspapermen and the men, women and children; the men and girls from\n the plants, factories, stores and streets. Go into the stores every\n morning and have prayer meetings so that the clerks may hear the Word\n of God before they get behind the counters and sell goods to the trade.\n\n \"Visit this city, O Lord, its schools and scholars, and bless the\n school board. Bless the city officials. Go down into the city hall\n and bless the mayor, directors and all the rest. We thank thee that\n the storm has passed. We believe that we will learn a lesson of how\n helpless we are before thee. How chesty we are when the sun shines and\n the day is clear, but, oh! how helpless when the breath of God comes\n and the snowflakes start to fall; when the floods come we get on our\n knees and wring our hands and ask mercy from thee. Oh, help us, O Lord.\n\n \"When the people get to hell--I hope that nobody will ever go there\n and I am trying my best to save them--they will know that they are\n there because they lived against God. I am not here to injure them;\n I am not here to wreck homes; I am here to tell them of the blessing\n you send down when they are with you. We pray for the thousands and\n thousands that will be saved.\"\n\n \"Thank you, Jesus. I came to you twenty-seven years ago for salvation\n and I got salvation. Thank the Lord I can look in the face of every\n man and woman of God everywhere and say that for all those years I\n have lived in salvation. Not that I take any credit to myself for\n that; it was nothing inherent in me; it was the power of God that\n saved me and kept me.\n\n \"O Lord, sweep over this town and save the business men of this\n community, the young men and women. O God, save us all from\n the cesspools of hell and corruption. Help me, Lord, as I hurl\n consternation into the ranks of that miserable, God-forsaken crew who\n are feeding, fattening and gormandizing on the people! Get everybody\n interested in honesty and decency and sobriety and make them fight to\n the last ditch for God. There are too many cowards, four-flushers in\n the Church.\"\n\n \"O Jesus, we thank God that you came into this old world to save\n sinners. Keep us, Lord. Hear us, O God, ere we stumble on in darkness.\n Lead the hundreds here to thy throne. Help the professing Christians\n who have not done as they should in the past, to come down this\n trail and take a more determined stand for thee. Help the official\n boards, the trustees of our churches, to show the way to hundreds by\n themselves confessing sin. Help them to say, 'O Lord, I haven't been\n square with thee. It is possible for me to improve my business and I\n can certainly improve my service to thee. I know and I believe in God\n and I believe in hell and heaven.' Lead them down the trail, Lord.\"\n\n \"O Lord, there are a lot of people who step up to the collection plate\n at church and fan. And Lord, there are always people sitting in the\n grandstand and calling the batter a mutt. He can't hit a thing or he\n can't get it over the base, or he's an ice wagon on the bases, they\n say. O Lord, give us some coachers out at this Tabernacle so that\n people can be brought home to you. Some of them are dying on second\n and third base, Lord, and we don't want that. Lord, have the people\n play the game of life right up to the limit so that home runs may be\n scored. There are some people, Lord, who say, 'Yes, I have heard Billy\n at the Tabernacle and oh, it is so disgusting: really it's awful the\n way he talks.' Lord, if there weren't some grouches and the like in\n the city I'd be lost. We had a grand meeting last night, Lord, when\n the crowd come down from Dicksonville (or what was that place, Rody?),\n Dickson City, Lord, that's right. It was a great crowd. There's an\n undercurrent of religion sweeping through here, Lord, and we are\n getting along fine.\n\n \"There are some dandy folks in Scranton, lots of good men and women\n that are with us in this campaign, and Lord, we want you to help make\n this a wonderful campaign. It has been wonderful so far. Lord, it's\n great to see them pouring in here night after night. God, you have the\n people of the homes tell their maids to go to the meeting at the Y. W.\n C. A. Thursday afternoon, and God, let us have a crowd of the children\n here Saturday. Rody is going to talk to them, Lord. He can't preach\n and I can't sing, but the children will have a big time with him,\n Lord. Lord, I won't try to stop people from roasting and scoring me. I\n would not know what to do if I didn't get some cracks from people now\n and then.\"\n\n \"Well, Jesus, I don't know how to talk as I would like to talk. I\n am at a loss as to just what to say tonight. Father, if you hadn't\n provided salvation, we'd all be pretty badly off. Knowing the kind\n of life I live and the kind of lives other people live, I know you\n are very patient and kind, but if you can do for men and women what\n you did for me, I wish it would happen. I wouldn't dare stand up and\n say that I didn't believe in you. I'd be afraid you'd knock me in the\n head. I'd be afraid you'd paralyze me or take away my mind. I'm afraid\n you'd do that. There are hundreds here tonight who don't know you as\n their Saviour. The Bible class believes you are Jesus of Nazareth,\n but they don't know you as their personal Saviour. And these other\n delegations, Lord, help them all to come down. Well, well, well, it's\n wonderful--'I find no fault in Him.' Amen.\"\n\n \"Oh, devil, why do you hit us when we are down? Old boy, I know that\n you have no time for me and I guess you have about learned that I have\n no time for you. I will never apologize to you for anything I have\n done against you. If I have ever said anything that does not hurt you,\n tell me about it and I will take it out of my sermon.\"\n\n \"We thank thee, Jesus, for that manifestation of thy power in one of\n the big factories of the city. Lord, we are told that of eighty men\n who used to go to a saloon for their lunch seventy-nine go there no\n more. All these men heard the 'booze' sermon. Lord, they are working\n on the one man who is standing out and they'll get him, too. The\n saloon-keeper is standing with arms akimbo behind the bar, but his old\n customers give the place the go-by. Thank you, Jesus.\"\n\n \"Well, Jesus, I've been back in Capernaum tonight. I've been with\n you when you cast the devil out of that man. They all said, 'We know\n you're helping us, but you're hurting the hog business.' I've been\n with you when you got in the boat. And Jesus arose and said to the\n sea: 'Peace, be still.'\n\n \"Ah, look at her. Bless her heart. There comes that poor, crying woman.\n\n \"Say, Jesus, here are men who have been drunkards. They have been in\n our prayers. They have been in our sermons. If I could just touch Him.\n He's here.\"\n\n \"Well, thank you, Lord. It's all true. I expect this sermon has\n caused many men and women to look into their hearts. Perhaps they are\n powerless, helpless for the Church. O God, what it will mean to people\n in the cause of Christ all over this city! We appreciate their kind\n words, but we wish they would do more.\n\n \"O God, may some deacons, elders, vestrymen, come out for God this\n afternoon. May they come down these aisles and publicly acknowledge\n themselves for God. Help them, then, we pray, for Jesus' sake. Amen.\"\n\n \"Now, Lord, I'm not here to have a good time. I am here to show what\n you are doing for these people and to tell them that you are willing\n to save them and to bear their burdens if they will give their hearts\n to you.\"\n\n \"Well, Jesus, I'm not up in heaven yet. I don't want to go, not yet.\n I know it's an awful pretty place, Lord. I know you'll look after me\n when I get there. But, Jesus, I'd like to stay here a long time yet. I\n don't want to leave Nell and the children. I like the little bungalow\n we have out at the lake. I know you'll have a prettier one up there.\n If you'll let me, Jesus, I'd like to stay here, and I'll work harder\n for you if I can. I know I'll go there, Jesus, and I know there's lots\n of men and women here in this Tabernacle tonight who won't go.\n\n \"Solomon found it was all vanity and vexation of spirit. They're\n living that way today, Jesus. I say that to you here tonight, banker;\n to you, Commercial Club; to you, men from the stockyards. If you\n want to live right, choose Jesus as your Saviour, for man's highest\n happiness is his obedience to Jesus Christ. And now, while we're all\n still, who'll come down and say 'I'm looking above the world?' Solomon\n said it was all vanity. Why certainly, you poor fool. He knew. But I'm\n glad you saw the light, Solomon, and spread out your wings.\"\n\n \"O Lord, bend over the battlements of glory and hear the cry of old\n Pittsburgh. O Lord, do you hear us? Lord, save tens of thousands of\n souls in this old city. Lord, everybody is helping. Lord, they are\n keeping their churches closed so tight that a burglar couldn't get in\n with a jimmy. Lord, the angels will shout to glory and the old devil\n will say, 'What did they shut up the churches of Pittsburgh for, when\n they have so many good preachers, and build a Tabernacle and bring a\n man on here to take the people away from me? O Lord, we'll win this\n whisky-soaked, vice-ridden old city of Pittsburgh and lay it at your\n feet and purify it until it is like paraffine.\"\n\nSunday's sermon on prayer is entitled,\n\n\n\"TEACH US TO PRAY\"\n\nWe live and develop physically by exercise. We are saved by faith, but\nwe must work out our salvation by doing the things God wills. The more\nwe do for God, the more God will do through us. Faith will increase by\nexperience.\n\nIf you are a stranger to prayer you are a stranger to the greatest\nsource of power known to human beings. If we cared for our physical\nlife in the same lackadaisical way that we care for our spiritual, we\nwould be as weak physically as we are spiritually. You go week in and\nweek out without prayer. I want to be a giant for God. You don't even\nsing; you let the choir do it. You go to prayer-meeting and offer no\ntestimony.\n\nYou are a stranger to the great privilege that is offered to human\nbeings. Some of the greatest blessings that people enjoy come from\nprayer. In earnest prayer you think as the Lord directs, and lose\nyourself in him.\n\nSome people say: \"It's no use to pray. The Lord knows everything,\nanyway.\" That's true. He does. He is not limited, as I am limited. He\nknows everything and has known it since before the world was. We don't\nknow everybody who is going to be converted at this revival, but that\ndoesn't relieve us of our duty. We don't know, and we must do the work\nhe has commanded us to do.\n\nOthers say: \"But I don't get what I pray for.\" Well, there's a cause\nfor everything. Get at the cause and you'll be all right. If you are\nsick and send for the doctor, he pays no attention to the disease,\nbut looks at what produced it. If you have a headache, don't rub your\nforehead. In Matthew it is written, \"Ask and it shall be given you;\nseek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.\" If\nyour prayers are not answered you are not right with God. If you have\nno faith, if your motive is wrong, then your prayers will be in vain.\nMany times when people pray they are selfish. They are not gripping\nthe word. I believe that when many a wife prays for the conversion\nof her husband it isn't because she really desires the salvation of\nhis soul, but because she thinks if he were converted things would be\neasier for her personally. Pray for your neighbors as well as your own\nfamily. The pastor of one church does not pray for the congregation of\nanother denomination. I'm not saying anything against denominations.\nI believe in them. I believe they are of God. Denominations represent\ndifferent temperaments. A man with warm emotions would not make a good\nEpiscopalian, but he would make a crackerjack Methodist. Oh, the curse\nof selfishness! The Church is dying for religion, for religion pure\nand undefiled. Pure religion and undefiled is visiting the widow and\nthe fatherless and doing the will of God without so much thought of\nyourself. I tell you, a lot of people are going to be fooled the Day of\nJudgment.\n\nIsaiah says the hand of God is not shortened and his ear is not deaf.\nNo, his hand is not shortened so that it cannot save. He has provided\nagencies by which we can be saved. If he had made no provision for your\nsalvation, then the trouble would be with God; but he has, so if you go\nto hell the trouble will be with you.\n\nIn Ezekiel we read that men have taken idols into their hearts and put\nstumbling-blocks before their faces. God is not going to hear you if\nyou place clothes, money, pride of relationship before him. You know\nthere is sin in your life. Many people know there is sin in their\nlives, yet ask God to bless them. They ought first to get down on their\nknees and pray, \"God be merciful to me a sinner.\"\n\nSome people are too contemptibly stingy for God to hear them. God won't\nhear you if you stop your ears to the cries of the poor. You drag along\nhere for three weeks and raise a paltry sum that a circus would take\nout of town in two hours. When they give things to the poor they rip\noff the buttons and the fine braid. Some people pick out old clothes\nthat the moths have made into sieves and give them to the poor and\nthink they are charitable. That isn't charity, no sir; it's charity\nwhen you'll give something you'll miss. It's charity when you feel it\nto give.\n\nAnd when you stand praying, forgive if you have aught against anyone.\nIt's no use to pray if you have a mean, miserable disposition, if you\nare grouchy, if you quarrel in your home or with your neighbors.\n\nIt's no use to pray for a blessing when you have a fuss on with your\nneighbors. It doesn't do you any good. You go to a sewing society\nmeeting to make mosquito netting for the Eskimo and blankets for the\nHottentots, and instead you sit and chew the rag and rip some woman up\nthe back. The spirit of God flees from strife and discord.\n\nPeople say: \"She is a good woman, but a worldly Christian.\" What?\nMight as well speak of a heavenly devil. Might as well expect a mummy\nto speak and bear children as that kind to move the world Godward.\nPrayer draws you nearer to God.\n\n\nLearning of Christ\n\n\"Teach us to pray,\" implies that I want to be taught. It's a great\nprivilege to be taught by Jesus. A friend of mine was preaching out\nin Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and had to go to a hospital in Chicago for an\noperation, and I was asked to go and preach in his place. Alexander was\nleading the singing, and one night Charles called a little girl out of\nthe audience to sing. She didn't look over four or five years of age,\nthough she might have been a little older. I thought, \"What's the use?\nHer little voice can never be heard over this crowd.\" But Charlie stood\nher up in a chair by the pulpit and she threw back her head and out\nrolled some of the sweetest music I have ever heard. It was wonderful.\nI sat there and the tears streamed down my cheeks. That little girl was\nthe daughter of a Northwestern engineer and he took her to Chicago when\nher mother was away. Some one took her to Patti. Patti took the little\ngirl to one of her suite of rooms and told her to stand there and sing.\nThen she went to the other end of the suite and sat down on a divan and\nlistened. The song moved her to tears. She ran and hugged and kissed\nthe little girl and sat her down on the divan and said to her: \"Now you\nsit here and I'll go over there and sing.\" She took up her position\nwhere the child had stood, and she lifted her magnificent voice and\nshe sang \"Home, Sweet Home\" and \"The Last Rose of Summer\"--sang them\nfor that little girl! And Patti used to get a thousand dollars for a\nsong, too. She always knew how many songs she was to sing, for she had\na check before she went on the platform. It was a great privilege the\nlittle daughter of that Northwestern engineer had, but it's a greater\nprivilege to learn from Jesus Christ how to pray.\n\nA friend of mine told me he went to hear Paganini, and the great\nviolinist broke one of the strings of his instrument, then another,\nthen another, until he had only one left, and on that one he played\nso wonderfully that his audience burst into terrific applause. It was\na privilege to hear that, but it's a greater privilege to have Jesus\nteach you to pray.\n\nLet us take a few examples from the life of Christ. In Mark we learn\nthat he rose up early in the morning and went out to a solitary place\nand prayed. He began every day with prayer. You never get up without\ndressing. You never forget to wash your face and comb your hair.\nYou always think of breakfast. You feed your physical body. Why do\nyou starve your spiritual body? If nine-tenths of you were as weak\nphysically as you are spiritually, you couldn't walk.\n\nWhen I was assistant secretary of the Y. M. C. A. at Chicago, John G.\nPaton came home from the New Hebrides and was lecturing and collecting\nmoney. He was raising money to buy a sea-going steam yacht, for his\nwork took him from island to island and he had to use a row-boat, and\nsometimes it was dangerous when the weather was bad, so he wanted the\nyacht. We had him for a week, and it was my privilege to go to lunch\nwith him. We would go out to a restaurant at noon and he would talk to\nus. Sometimes there would be as many as fifteen or twenty preachers in\nthe crowd, and now and then some of us were so interested in what he\ntold us of the work for Jesus in those far-away islands that we forgot\nto eat. I remember that he said one day: \"All that I am I owe to my\nChristian father and mother. My father was one of the most prayerful\nmen I ever knew. Often in the daytime he would slip into his closet,\nand he would drop a handkerchief outside the door, and when we children\nsaw the white sentinel we knew that father was talking with his God and\nwould go quietly away. It is largely because of the life and influence\nof that same saintly father that I am preaching to the cannibals\nin the South Seas.\" It is an insult to God and a disgrace to allow\nchildren to grow up without throwing Christian influences around them.\nSeven-tenths of professing Christians have no family prayers and do not\nread the Bible. It is no wonder boys and girls are going to hell. It is\nno wonder the damnable ball-rooms are wrecking the virtue of our girls.\n\nIn the fourteenth chapter of Matthew it is told that when Jesus had\nsent the multitudes away he went up into the mountain and was there\nalone with God. Jesus Christ never forgot to thank God for answering\nhis prayers. Jesus asked him to help him feed the multitude, and he\ndidn't neglect to thank him for it. Next time you pray don't ask God\nfor anything. Just try to think of all the things you have to be\nthankful for, and tell him about them.\n\n\nPride Hinders Prayer\n\nPride keeps us from proper prayer. Being chesty and big-headed is\nresponsible for more failures than anything else in this world. It has\nspoiled many a preacher, just as it has spoiled many an employee. Some\nfellows get a job and in about two weeks they think they know more\nabout the business than the boss does. They think he is all wrong. It\nnever occurs to them that it took some brains and some knowledge to\nbuild that business up and keep it running till they got there.\n\nHere's two things to guard against. Don't get chesty over success, or\ndiscouraged over a seeming defeat.\n\n\"And when he prayed he said: 'Lazarus, come forth'; and he that was\ndead came forth.\" If we prayed right we would raise men from sin and\nbring them forth into the light of righteousness.\n\n\"And as he prayed the fashion of his countenance was altered.\" Ladies,\ndo you want to look pretty? If some of you women would spend less on\ndope and cold cream and get down on your knees and pray, God would make\nyou prettier. Why, I can look into your faces and tell what sort of\nlives you live. If you are devoting your time and thoughts to society,\nyour countenances will show it. If you pray, I can see that.\n\nEvery man who has helped to light up the dark places of the world has\nbeen a praying man. I never preach a sermon until I've soaked it in\nprayer. Never. Then I never forget to thank God for helping me when I\npreach. I don't care whether you read your prayers out of a book or\nwhether you just say them, so long as you mean them. A man can read\nhis prayers and go to heaven, or he may just say his prayers and go to\nhell. We've got to face conditions. When I read I find that all the\nsaintly men who have done things from Pentecost until today, have known\nhow to pray. It was a master stroke of the devil when he got the church\nto give up prayer. One of the biggest farces today is the average\nprayer-meeting.\n\n\nPraying in Secret\n\nMatthew says, \"But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and\nwhen thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father, which is in secret;\nand thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.\"\n\nTwo men came to the Temple to pray--the first was the Pharisee. He was\nnice and smooth, and his attitude was nice and smooth. He prayed: \"God,\nI thank thee that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust,\nadulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week, I\ngive tithes of all I possess,\" and he went out. I can imagine a lot\nof people sitting around the church and saying: \"That is my idea of\nreligion; that is it. I am no sensationalist; I don't want anything\nvulgar, no slang.\" Why don't you use a little, bud, so that something\nwill come your way? And it will come as straight as two and two make\nfour.\n\nServices rendered in such opposite directions cannot meet with the same\nresults. If two men were on the top of a tall building and one should\njump and one come down the fire escape they couldn't expect to meet\nwith the same degree of safety. The Pharisee said, \"Thank God, I am not\nas other men are,\" and the publican said, \"God be merciful to me, a\nsinner.\" The first man went to his house the same as when he came out\nof it. \"God be merciful to me, a sinner.\" That man was justified. I am\njustified in my faith in Jesus Christ. I am no longer a sinner. I am\njustified as though I had never sinned by faith in the Son of God. That\nman went down to his house justified.\n\n\nPraying in Humility\n\nHow many people pray in a real sense? How many people pray in humility\nand truth? Some men pray for humility when it is pride they want. Many\na man gets down on his knees and says: \"Our Father, who art in heaven,\nhallowed be thy name: thy kingdom come--\" That is not so; they don't\nwant God's kingdom to come. It is not so with half the people that\npray. I say to you when you pray in the church pew and say that, it\ndon't count a snap of my finger if you don't live it. You pray, \"Thy\nkingdom come,\" and then you go out and do something to prevent that\nkingdom from coming. No man can get down and pray \"Thy kingdom come,\"\nand have a beer wagon back up to his door and put beer in the ice box.\nNo man can get down on his knees and pray \"Thy kingdom come,\" and look\nthrough the bottom of a beer glass. God won't stand for it. If you\nwanted God's will done you would do God's will, even if it took every\ndrop of blood in your body to do it.\n\n\"Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.\" When you say this in\nyour pew on Sunday it means nothing unless you live it on Monday. You\nsay \"Thy kingdom come,\" and then go out and do the very thing that\nwill prevent God's kingdom from coming. Your prayers or anything you\ndo in the church on Sunday mean nothing if you don't do the same thing\nin business on Monday. I don't care how loud your wind-jamming in\nprayer-meeting may be if you go out and skin somebody in a horse deal\nthe next day.\n\nThe man who truly prays, \"Thy kingdom come,\" cannot take his heart out\nof his prayer when he is out of the church. The man who truly prays\n\"Thy kingdom come,\" will not be shrinking his measures at the store;\nthe load of coal he sends to you won't be half slate. The man who\ntruly prays \"Thy kingdom come\" won't cut off his yardstick when he\nmeasures you a piece of calico. It will not take the pure-food law to\nkeep a man who truly prays \"Thy kingdom come\" from putting chalk in\nthe flour, sand in the sugar, brick dust in red pepper, ground peanut\nshells in breakfast food.\n\nThe man who truly prays \"Thy kingdom come\" cannot pass a saloon and\nnot ask himself the question, \"What can I do to get rid of that thing\nthat is blighting the lives of thousands of young men, that is wrecking\nhomes, and that is dragging men and women down to hell?\" You cannot\npray \"Thy kingdom come,\" and then rush to the polls and vote for the\nthing that is preventing that kingdom from coming. You cannot pray \"Thy\nkingdom come\" and then go and do the things that make the devil laugh.\nFor the man who truly prays \"Thy kingdom come\" it would be impossible\nto have one kind of religion on his knees and another when he is behind\nthe counter; it would be impossible to have one kind of religion in the\npew and another in politics. When a man truly prays \"Thy kingdom come\"\nhe means it in everything or in nothing.\n\nA lot of church members are praying wrong. You should pray first, \"God\nbe merciful to me a sinner,\" and then \"Thy kingdom come.\"\n\nSaying a prayer is one thing: doing God's will is another. Both should\nbe synonymous. Angels are angels because they do God's will. When they\nrefuse to do God's will they become devils.\n\nMany a man prays when he gets in a hole. Many a man prays when he is up\nagainst it. Many a man prays in the time of trouble, but when he can\nstick his thumbs in his armholes and take a pair of scissors and cut\nhis coupons off, then it is \"Good-bye, God; I'll see you later.\" Many\na man will make promises to God in his extremity, but forget them in\nhis prosperity. Many a man will make promises to God when the hearse is\nbacked up to the door to carry the baby out, but will soon forget the\npromises made in the days of adversity. Many a man will make promises\nwhen lying on his back, thinking he is going to die, and load up just\nthe same when he is on his feet.\n\n\nMen of Prayer\n\nEvery man and every woman that God has used to halt this sin-cursed\nworld and set it going Godward has been a Christian of prayer.\nMartin Luther arose from his bed and prayed all night, and when the\nbreak of day came he called his wife and said to her, \"It has come.\"\nHistory records that on that very day King Charles granted religious\ntoleration, a thing for which Luther had prayed.\n\nJohn Knox, whom his queen feared more than any other man, was in such\nagony of prayer that he ran out into the street and fell on his face\nand cried, \"O God, give me Scotland or I'll die.\" And God gave him\nScotland and not only that, he threw England in for good measure.\n\nWhen Jonathan Edwards was about to preach his greatest sermon on\n\"Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,\" he prayed for days; and when he\nstood before the congregation and preached it, men caught at the seats\nin their terror, and some fell to the floor; and the people cried out\nin their fear, \"Mr. Edwards, tell us how we can be saved!\"\n\nThe critical period of American history was between 1784 and 1789.\nThere was no common coinage, no common defense. When the colonies sent\nmen to a constitutional convention, Benjamin Franklin, rising with the\nweight of his four score years, asked that the convention open with\nprayer, and George Washington there sealed the bargain with God. In\nthat winter in Valley Forge, Washington led his men in prayer and he\ngot down on his knees to do it.\n\nWhen the battle of Gettysburg was on, Lincoln, old Abe Lincoln, was on\nhis knees with God; yes, he was on his knees from five o'clock in the\nafternoon till four o'clock in the morning, and Bishop Simpson was with\nhim.\n\n\"And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in My name, that will I do,\nthat the Father may be glorified in the Son.\" No man can ever be saved\nwithout Jesus Christ. There's no way to God unless you come through\nJesus Christ. It's Jesus Christ or nothing.\n\n\"Lord, teach us to pray.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nThe Revival on Trial\n\n One spark of fire can do more to prove the power of powder than a\n whole library written on the subject.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nWhat Evangelist Sunday says to his congregations is sometimes less\nsignificant than what he helps his congregation to say to the world.\nLet us take a sample meeting in the Pittsburgh campaign, with the\ntremendous deliverance which it made upon the subject of revivals and\nconversions.\n\nA \"sea of faces\" is a petrified phrase, which means nothing to most\nreaders. Anybody who will stand on the platform behind Billy Sunday at\none of his great tabernacles understands it. More than twenty thousand\nfaces, all turned expectantly toward one man, confront you. The faces\nrather than the hair predominate. There are no hats in sight.\n\nLike the billows along the shore, which may be observed in detail,\nthe nearer reaches of this human sea are individualized. What a\nMadonna-face yonder girl has! See the muscles of that young man's jaw\nworking, in the intensity of his interest. The old man who is straining\nforward, so as not to miss a word, has put a black and calloused hand\nbehind his ear. That gray-haired woman with the lorgnette and rolls\nof false hair started out with the full consciousness that she was a\n\"somebody\": watch her wilt and become merely a tired, heart-hungry old\nwoman. And the rows and rows of undistinguished commonplace people,\njust like the crowds we meet daily in the street cars.\n\nSomehow, though, each seems here engaged in an individual transaction.\nA revival meeting accents personality. Twenty or thirty rows down the\nbig congregation begins to blurr in appearance, and individual faces\nare merged in the mass. The host, which is but an agglomeration of\nindividuals, is impressive. The \"sea of faces\" is more affecting than\nold ocean's expanse.\n\nWhere else may one so see \"the people\"; or fundamental human nature so\nexpressing itself? One compares these crowds with the lesser throngs\nthat followed Jesus when he walked the earth, and recalls that \"greater\nworks than these shall they do.\" There is a sermon in every aspect of\nthe Billy Sunday meetings.\n\nCuriously, people will reveal more of themselves, be more candid\nconcerning their inner experiences, in a crowd than when taken one\nby one. Thus this congregation is a rare laboratory. Tonight the\nevangelist is going to make an experiment upon revivals and their value.\n\nIt is common to object to revivals and to revivalists. Billy Sunday's\nreply to this is simply unanswerable: he appeals to the people\nthemselves for evidence. By a show of hands--and he conducts this\nexperiment in practically every community he visits--he gives a\nconvincing demonstration that it is by special evangelistic efforts\nthat most Christians have entered the Church of Christ. By the same\nmethod, he shows that youth is the time to make the great decision.\n\nWhen this question is put to a test a dramatic moment, the significance\nof which the multitude quickly grasps, ensues. On this occasion there\nare more than twenty thousand persons within the Tabernacle. First the\nevangelist asks the confessed Christians to rise. The great bulk of\nthe congregation stands on its feet. Then he asks for those who were\nconverted in special meetings, revivals of some sort or other, to raise\ntheir hands. From three-fourths to four-fifths of the persons standing\nlift their hands in token that they were converted during revivals.\n\nThen--each time elaborating his question so that there may be no\nmisunderstanding--Sunday asks those who were converted before they were\ntwenty to indicate it. Here again the majority is so large as to be\nsimply overwhelming. It almost seems that the whole body of Christians\nhad become such before they attained their legal majority.\n\nOf the few hundreds that are left standing, Sunday asks in turn for\nthose who were converted before they were thirty, those who were\nconverted before they were forty, before they were fifty, before they\nwere sixty. When it comes to this point of age the scene is thrilling\nin its significance. Usually there are only one or two persons standing\nwho have entered the Christian life after reaching fifty years of age.\n\nThe conclusion is irresistible. Unless a person accepts Christ in youth\nthe chances are enormously against his ever accepting Him subsequently.\nThe demonstration is an impressive vindication of revivals, and of the\nimportance of an early decision for Christ.\n\nAfter such a showing as this, everybody is willing to listen to a\nsermon upon revivals and their place in the economy of the Kingdom of\nHeaven.\n\n\n\"THE NEED OF REVIVALS\"\n\nSomebody asks: \"What is a revival?\" Revival is a purely philosophical,\ncommon-sense result of the wise use of divinely appointed means,\njust the same as water will put out a fire; the same as food will\nappease your hunger; just the same as water will slake your thirst;\nit is a philosophical common-sense use of divinely appointed means to\naccomplish that end. A revival is just as much horse sense as that.\n\nA revival is not material; it does not depend upon material means. It\nis a false idea that there is something peculiar in it, that it cannot\nbe judged by ordinary rules, causes and effects. That is nonsense.\nAbove your head there is an electric light; that is effect. What is the\ncause? Why, the dynamo. Religion can be judged on the same basis of\ncause and effect. If you do a thing, results always come. The results\ncome to the farmer. He has his crops. That is the result. He has to\nplow and plant and take care of his farm before the crops come.\n\nReligion needs a baptism of horse sense. That is just pure horse sense.\nI believe there is no doctrine more dangerous to the Church today\nthan to convey the impression that a revival is something peculiar in\nitself and cannot be judged by the same rules of causes and effect as\nother things. If you preach that to the farmers--if you go to a farmer\nand say \"God is a sovereign,\" that is true; if you say \"God will give\nyou crops only when it pleases him and it is no use for you to plow\nyour ground and plant your crops in the spring,\" that is all wrong,\nand if you preach that doctrine and expect the farmers to believe it,\nthis country will starve to death in two years. The churches have been\npreaching some false doctrines and religion has died out.\n\n[Illustration: \"You Sit in Your Pews so Easy that You Become Mildewed\"]\n\nSome people think that religion is a good deal like a storm. They\nsit around and fold their arms, and that is what is the matter. You\nsit in your pews so easy that you become mildewed. Such results will\nbe sure to follow if you are persuaded that religion is something\nmysterious and has no natural connection between the means and the\nend. It has a natural connection of common sense and I believe that\nwhen divinely appointed means are used spiritual blessing will accrue\nto the individuals and the community in greater numbers than temporal\nblessings. You can have spiritual blessings as regularly as the farmer\ncan have corn, wheat, oats, or you can have potatoes and onions and\ncabbage in your garden. I believe that spiritual results will follow\nmore surely than temporal blessings. I don't believe all this tommyrot\nof false doctrines. You might as well sit around beneath the shade\nand fan yourself and say \"Ain't it hot?\" as to expect God to give you\na crop if you don't plow the ground and plant the seed. Until the\nChurch resorts to the use of divinely appointed means it won't get the\nblessing.\n\n\nWhat a Revival Does\n\nWhat is a revival? Now listen to me. A revival does two things. First,\nit returns the Church from her backsliding and second, it causes the\nconversion of men and women; and it always includes the conviction of\nsin on the part of the Church. What a spell the devil seems to cast\nover the Church today!\n\nI suppose the people here are pretty fair representatives of the\nChurch of God, and if everybody did what you do there would never be a\nrevival. Suppose I did no more than you do, then no people would ever\nbe converted through my efforts; I would fold my arms and rust out. A\nrevival helps to bring the unsaved to Jesus Christ.\n\nGod Almighty never intended that the devil should triumph over the\nChurch. He never intended that the saloons should walk rough-shod over\nChristianity. And if you think that anybody is going to frighten me,\nyou don't know me yet.\n\nWhen is a revival needed? When the individuals are careless and\nunconcerned. If the Church were down on her face in prayer they would\nbe more concerned with the fellow outside. The Church has degenerated\ninto a third-rate amusement joint, with religion left out.\n\nWhen is a revival needed? When carelessness and unconcern keep the\npeople asleep. It is as much the duty of the Church to awaken and work\nand labor for the men and women of this city as it is the duty of the\nfire department to rush out when the call sounds. What would you think\nof the fire department if it slept while the town burned? You would\ncondemn them, and I will condemn you if you sleep and let men and women\ngo to hell. It is just as much your business to be awake. The Church of\nGod is asleep today; it is turned into a dormitory, and has taken the\ndevil's opiates.\n\n[Illustration: \"I NEVER LOOK AT A CHILD OR AN OLDER PERSON WITHOUT\nTHINKING, 'THERE IS A CASKET OF LOCKED-UP POSSIBILITIES. ONLY THE KEY\nOF SALVATION IS NEEDED TO OPEN IT.'\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"SAMSON WITH THE HOLY SPIRIT COULD TAKE THE JAWBONE OF\nAN ASS AND LAY DEAD A THOUSAND PHILISTINES.\"]\n\nWhen may a revival be expected? When the wickedness of the wicked\ngrieves and distresses the Christian. Sometimes people don't seem to\nmind the sins of other people. Don't seem to mind while boys and girls\nwalk the streets of their city and know more of evil than gray-haired\nmen. You are asleep.\n\nWhen is a revival needed? When the Christians have lost the spirit of\nprayer.\n\nWhen is a revival needed? When you feel the want of revival and feel\nthe need of it. Men have had this feeling, ministers have had it until\nthey thought they would die unless a revival would come to awaken their\npeople, their students, their deacons and their Sunday-school workers,\nunless they would fall down on their faces and renounce the world and\nthe works and deceits of the devil. When the Church of God draws its\npatrons from the theaters the theaters will close up, or else take the\ndirty, rotten plays off the stage.\n\nWhen the Church of God stops voting for the saloon, the saloon will go\nto hell. When the members stop having cards in their homes, there won't\nbe so many black-legged gamblers in the world. This is the truth. You\ncan't sit around and fold your arms and let God run this business; you\nhave been doing that too long here. When may a revival be expected?\nWhen Christians confess their sins one to another. Sometimes they\nconfess in a general way, but they have no earnestness; they get up and\ndo it in eloquent language, but that doesn't do it. It is when they\nbreak down and cry and pour out their hearts to God in grief, when the\nflood-gates open, then I want to tell you the devil will have cold\nfeet.\n\n\nRevival Demands Sacrifice\n\nWhen may a revival be expected? When the wickedness of the wicked\ngrieves and distresses the Church. When you are willing to make a\nsacrifice for the revival; when you are willing to sacrifice your\nfeelings. You say, \"Oh, well, Mr. Sunday hurt my feelings.\" Then don't\nspread them all over his tabernacle for men to walk on. I despise\na touchy man or woman. Make a sacrifice of your feelings; make a\nsacrifice of your business, of your time, of your money; you are\nwilling to give to help to advance God's cause, for God's cause has to\nhave money the same as a railroad or a steamship company. When you give\nyour influence and stand up and let people know you stand for Jesus\nChrist and it has your indorsement and time and money. Somebody has got\nto get on the firing line. Somebody had to go on the firing line and\nbecome bullet meat for $13 a month to overcome slavery. Somebody has\nto be willing to make a sacrifice. They must be willing to get out and\nhustle and do things for God.\n\nWhen may a revival be expected? A revival may be expected when\nChristian people confess and ask forgiveness for their sins. When\nyou are willing that God shall promote and use whatever means or\ninstruments or individuals or methods he is pleased to use to promote\nthem. Yes. The trouble is he cannot promote a revival if you are\nsitting on the judgment of the methods and means that God is employing\nto promote a revival. The God Almighty may use any method or means\nor individual that he pleases in order to promote a revival. You are\nnot running it. Let God have his way. You can tell whether you need a\nrevival. You can tell if you will have one and why you have got one. If\nGod should ask you sisters and preachers in an audible voice, \"Are you\nwilling that I should promote a revival by using any methods or means\nor individual language that I choose to use to promote it?\" what would\nbe your answer? Yes. Then don't growl if I use some things that you\ndon't like. You have no business to. How can you promote a revival?\nBreak up your fallow ground, the ground that produces nothing but\nweeds, briars, tin cans and brick-bats. Fallow ground is ground that\nnever had a glow in it. Detroit had a mayor, Pingree, when Detroit had\nthousands and thousands of acres of fallow ground. This was taken over\nby the municipal government and planted with potatoes with which they\nfed the poor of the city.\n\nThere are individuals who have never done anything for Jesus Christ,\nand I have no doubt there are preachers as well, who have never done\nanything for the God Almighty. There are acres and acres of fallow\nground lying right here that have never been touched. Look over your\npast life, look over your present life and future and take up the\nindividual sins and with pencil and paper write them down. A general\nconfession will never do. You have committed your sins, one by one, and\nyou will have to confess them one by one. This thing of saying, \"God, I\nam a sinner,\" won't do.\n\n\"God, I am a gossiper in my neighborhood. God, I have been in my\nice-box while I am here listening to Mr. Sunday.\" Confess your sins.\n\nHow can you promote a revival? You women, if you found that your\nhusband was giving his love and attention to some other woman and if\nyou saw that some other woman was encroaching on his mind and heart,\nand was usurping your place and was pushing you out of the place,\nwouldn't you grieve? Don't you think that God grieves when you push\nhim out of your life? You don't treat God square. You business men\ndon't treat God fair. You let a thousand things come in and take the\nplace that God Almighty had. No wonder you are careless. You blame God\nfor things you have no right to blame him for. He is not to blame for\nanything. You judge God. The spirit loves the Bible; the devil loves\nthe flesh.\n\nIf you don't do your part, don't blame God. How many times have you\nblamed God when you are the liar yourself. You are wont to blame him\nfor the instances of unbelief that have come into your life. When\nshould we promote a revival? When there is a neglect of prayer? When\nyour prayers affect God? You never think of going out on the street\nwithout dressing. You would be pinched before you went a block. You\nnever think of going without breakfast, do you? I bet there are\nmultitudes that have come here without reading the Bible or praying for\nthis meeting.\n\nYou can measure your desire for salvation by means of the amount of\nself-denial you are willing to practice for Jesus Christ. You have\nsinned before the Church, before the world, before God.\n\nDon't the Lord have a hard time? Own up, now.\n\n\nPersecution a Godsend\n\nThere are a lot of people in church, doubtless, who have denied\nthemselves--self-denial for comfort and convenience. There are a lot\nof people here who never make any sacrifices for Jesus Christ. They\nwill not suffer any reproaches for Jesus Christ. Paul says, \"I love\nto suffer reproaches for Christ.\" The Bible says, \"Woe unto you when\nall men shall speak well of you.\" \"Blessed are you when your enemies\npersecute you.\" That is one trouble in the churches of God today.\nThey are not willing to suffer reproach for God's sake. It would be\na godsend if the Church would suffer persecution today; she hasn't\nsuffered it for hundreds of years. She is growing rich and lagging\nbehind. Going back.\n\nPride! How many times have you found yourself exercising pride? How\nmany times have you attempted pride of wealth? Proud because you were\nrelated to some of the old families that settled in the Colonies in\n1776. That don't get you anything; not at all. I have got as much\nto be proud of as to lineage as anyone; my great-grandfather was in\nthe Revolutionary War, lost a leg at Brandywine; and my father was a\nsoldier in the Civil War.\n\nEnvy! Envy of those that have more talent than you. Envious because\nsomeone can own a limousine Packard and you have to ride a Brush\nrunabout; envious because some women can wear a sealskin coat and you a\nnearseal.\n\nThen there is your grumbling and fault-finding. When speaking of people\nbehind their backs, telling their faults, whether real or imaginary,\nand that is slander. When you sit around and rip people up behind their\nbacks at your old sewing societies, when you rip and tear and discuss\nyour neighbors and turn the affair into a sort of a great big gossiping\nsociety, with your fault-finding, grumbling and growling. There is a\nbig difference between levity and happiness, and pleasure, and all that\nsort of thing.\n\nMake up your mind that God has given himself up for you. I would like\nto see something come thundering along that I would have more interest\nin than I have in the cause of God Almighty! God has a right to the\nfirst place. God is first, remember that.\n\nMultitudes of people are willing to do anything that doesn't require\nany self-denial on their part.\n\nI am not a member of any lodge, and never expect to be, but if I were a\nmember of a lodge and there were a prayer-meeting and a lodge-meeting\ncoming on Wednesday night, I would be at the prayer-meeting instead of\nat the lodge-meeting. I am not against the lodges; they do some good\nwork in the world, but that doesn't save anyone for God. God is first\nand the lodge-meeting is second. God is first and society second. God\nis first and business is second. \"In the beginning, God!\" That is the\nway the Bible starts out and it ought to be the way with every living\nbeing. \"In the beginning, God.\" Seek you first God and everything else\nshall be added unto you. Christianity is addition; sin is subtraction.\nChristianity is peace, joy, salvation, heaven. Sin takes away peace,\nhappiness, sobriety, and it takes away health. You are robbing God\nof the time that you misspend. You are robbing God when you spend\ntime doing something that don't amount to anything, when you might\ndo something for Christ. You are robbing God when you go to foolish\namusements, when you sit around reading trashy novels instead of the\nWord of God.\n\n\"Oh, Lord, revive thy work!\"\n\nI have only two minutes more and then I am through. Bad temper. Abuse\nyour wife and abuse your children; abuse your husband; turn your old\ngatling-gun tongue loose. A lady came to me and said, \"Mr. Sunday, I\nknow I have a bad temper, but I am over with it in a minute.\" So is the\nshotgun, but it blows everything to pieces.\n\nAnd, finally, you abuse the telephone girl because she doesn't connect\nyou in a minute. Bad temper. I say you abuse your wife, you go cussing\naround if supper isn't ready on time; cussing because the coffee isn't\nhot; you dig your fork into a hunk of beefsteak and put it on your\nplate and then you say: \"Where did you get this, in the harness shop?\nTake it out and make a hinge for the door.\" Then you go to your store,\nor office, and smile and everybody thinks you are an angel about to\nsprout wings and fly to the imperial realm above. Bad temper! You growl\nat your children; you snap and snarl around the house until they have\nto go to the neighbors to see a smile. They never get a kind word--no\nwonder so many of them go to the devil quick.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nAn Army with Banners\n\n The man who is right with God will not be wrong with anything that is\n good.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nThe oldest problem of the Christian Church, and the latest problem of\ndemocracy, is how to reach the great mass of the people. Frequently the\ncharge is made that the Church merely skims the surface of society,\nand that the great uncaring masses of the people lie untouched beneath\nit. Commonly, a revival reaches only a short distance outside the\ncircumference of church circles. The wonder and greatness of the Billy\nSunday campaigns consist in the fact that they reach to the uttermost\nrim of a community, to its greatest height and its lowest depth. There\ncan be no question that he stirs a city as not even the fiercest\npolitical campaign stirs it. Sunday touches life on all levels,\nbringing his message to bear upon the society woman in her parlor and\nthe humblest day laborer in the trench.\n\nThis does not come to pass by any mere chance. Organized activity\nachieves it. The method which produces the greatest results is what is\ncalled the Delegation Idea, whereby detachments of persons from various\ntrades, callings and organizations and communities attend in a body\nupon the services of the Sunday Tabernacle.\n\nBy pre-arrangement, seats are reserved every night for these visiting\ndelegations. Sometimes there will be as many as a dozen delegations\npresent in one evening. As the campaign progresses towards its\nconclusion real difficulty is experienced in finding open dates for\nall the delegations that apply. At the outset, Mr. Sunday's assistants\nhave to \"work up\" these delegations. Later, the delegations themselves\nbesiege the workers.\n\nIn variety the delegations range from a regiment of Boy Scouts to a\npost of old soldiers; from the miners of a specified colliery to the\nbankers of the city; from the telephone girls to the members of a\nwoman's club; from an athletic club to a Bible class.\n\nNot only the community in which the meetings are being held furnish\nthese delegations, but the surrounding territory is drawn upon. It\nis by no means an unknown thing for a single delegation, numbering\na thousand or fifteen hundred men, to come a distance of fifteen or\ntwenty-five miles to attend a Sunday Tabernacle service. Almost every\nevening there are lines of special cars waiting for these deputations\nwho have come from afar, with their banners and their badges and their\nbands, all bent upon hearing and being heard at the Tabernacle.\n\nThe crowd spirit is appealed to by this method. The every-day instinct\nof loyalty to one's craft or crowd is aroused. Each delegation\nfeels its own identity and solidarity, and wants to make as good\na showing as possible. There is considerable wholesome emulation\namong the delegations representing the same craft or community. Of\ncourse, the work of making ready the delegation furnishes a topic\nfor what is literally \"shop talk\" among working men; and naturally\neach group zealously watches the effect of its appearance upon the\ngreat congregation. Delegations get a very good idea of what their\nneighbors think of them by the amount of applause with which they are\ngreeted. Thus when the whole force of a daily newspaper appears in\nthe Tabernacle its readers cheer vociferously. Every delegation goes\nequipped with its own battle cry, and prepared to make as favorable a\nshowing as possible.\n\nAll this is wholesome for the community life. It fosters loyalty in\nthe varied groups that go to make up our society. Any shop is the\nbetter for its workers, led by their heads of departments and by their\nemployers, having gone in a solid phalanx to a Tabernacle meeting.\nEvery incident of that experience becomes an unfailing source of\nconversation for long days and weeks to follow.\n\n[Illustration: THE TABERNACLE AT SCRANTON, PENNSYLVANIA, TYPICAL OF\nTHE AUDITORIUMS THAT ARE ERECTED WHEREVER CAMPAIGNS ARE CONDUCTED.\nTO DEADEN SOUND THE FLOOR IS COVERED WITH SAWDUST, WHENCE THE NAME\n\"SAWDUST TRAIL.\" TO PREVENT THE POSSIBILITY OF A PANIC, NO BOARD IS\nFASTENED WITH MORE THAN TWO NAILS, AND THERE IS A DOOR AT THE END OF\nEVERY AISLE.]\n\nNaturally, too, each delegation, delighted with the showing it has\nmade at the Tabernacle, and with the part it has borne in the meeting,\nbecomes one more group of partisans for the Billy Sunday campaign. Men\nwho would not go alone to the Tabernacle, cannot in loyalty well refuse\nto stand by their own crowd. So it comes to pass that the delegation\nidea penetrates every level and every section of the community. A\nshrewder scheme for reaching the last man could scarcely be devised.\nThousands who are impervious to religious appeals quickly respond to\nthe request that they stand by their shop-mates and associates.\n\nParticipation in the meetings makes the people themselves feel the\nimportance of their own part. They are not merely a crowd coming to be\ntalked at; they share in the meetings. The newspapers comment upon them\neven as upon the sermon. All are uplifted by the glow of geniality and\ncamaraderie which pervades the Tabernacle. For the songs and slogans\nand banners of the delegations greatly help to swell the interest of\nthe meetings.\n\nAll this is wholesome, democratic and typically American. This\ngood-natured crowd does not become unreal or artificial simply because\nit is facing the fundamental verities of the human soul.\n\nOutspokenness in loyalty, a characteristic of Sunday converts,\nexpresses itself through many channels. Taught by the delegation idea,\nas well as by the sermon, the importance of standing up to be counted,\nthe friends and converts of the evangelist are always ready for the\ngreat parade which usually is held toward the close of the campaign.\nThe simple basis for this street demonstration is found in the old\nScripture, \"Let the redeemed of the Lord say so.\" The idea of the Roman\nimperial triumph survives in the Billy Sunday parade. It is a testimony\nto the multitudes of the loyalty of Christians to the Gospel.\n\nBeyond all question, a tremendous impression is made upon a city by\nthe thousands of marching men whom the evangelist first leads and then\nreviews. A street parade is a visualization of the forces of the\nChurch in a community. Many a man of the street, who might be unmoved\nby many arguments, however powerful, cannot escape the impression\nof the might of the massed multitudes of men who march through the\nstreets, thousands strong. Some twenty thousand men were in the Sunday\nparade at Scranton. Nobody who witnessed them, be he never so heedless\na scoffer, could again speak slightingly of the Church. Religion loses\nwhatever traits of femininity it may have possessed, before the Sunday\ncampaign is over.\n\nThose most practical of men, the politicians, are quick to take\ncognizance of this new power that has arisen in the community's life.\nThey know that every one of these men not only has a vote, but is a\ncenter of influence for the things in which he believes.\n\nThe heartening effect of such a great demonstration as this upon the\nobscure, lonely and discouraged saints is beyond calculation.\n\nThe great hosts of the Billy Sunday campaign are returning to first\nprinciples by taking religion out into the highways and making it\ntalked about, even as the Founder of the Church created a commotion\nin the highways of Capernaum and Jerusalem. These marching men are a\nsermon one or two miles long. The impression made upon youth is not to\nbe registered by any means in the possession of men. Every Christian\nthe world around must be grateful to this evangelist and his associates\nfor giving the sort of demonstration, which cannot be misunderstood by\nthe world at large, of the virility and the immensity of the hosts of\nheaven on earth.\n\nMany of the utterances of Billy Sunday are attuned to this note of\nvaliant witness-bearing for Christ.\n\n\n\"SPIRITUAL POWER\"\n\nSamson didn't realize that the Spirit of the Lord had departed from\nhim; he walked out and shook himself as aforetime; he weighed as much;\nhe was as strong physically; his mind was as active, but although he\npossessed all that, there was one thing that was necessary to make him\nas he had been: \"He wist not that the Spirit of the Lord had left him.\"\n\nA man may have a fine physique; he may have strength; he may have\ngreatness; he may have a beautiful home; and a church may be\nmagnificent and faultless in its equipment; the preacher may be able to\nreason; the choir may rival the angels in music; but if you have not\nthe Spirit of the Lord you are, as Paul says, as sounding brass and\ntinkling cymbals, and the church is merely four walls with a roof over\nit.\n\nNothing in the world can be substituted for the Spirit of God; no\nwealth, culture nor anything in the world. By power we do not mean\nnumbers; there never has been a time when there were more members in\nthe Church than today; yet we haven't kept progress in the number\nof members in the Church with the increased number of people in the\nnation. Our nation has grown to over 90,000,000 of people, but we are\nnot correspondingly keeping pace with the number of church members.\nGod's Church has not increased correspondingly in power as it has in\nnumbers; while increasing in numbers it has not increased in spiritual\npower. I am giving you facts, not fancies. We are not dealing with\ntheories. I am not saying anything against the Church; you never had a\nman come into this community who would fight harder for the Church of\nGod Almighty than I would. I am talking about her sins and the things\nthat sap her power--and by power I do not mean numbers. If you had an\narmy of 100,000 and increased it another 100,000 it ought to be doubled\nin power.\n\n\nDerelicts in the Church\n\nIn the Church of God today you know there are a lot of people who are\nnothing but derelicts and nothing but driftwood.\n\nBy power I do not mean wealth. We are the richest people on the\nearth; nineteen-twentieths of all the wealth or all the money in\nthe United States today is in the hands of professing Christians,\nCatholic and Protestant. That ought to mean that it is in God's hands;\nbut it doesn't. They are robbing God. I was in a church in Iowa that\nhad three members who were worth $200,000 each and they paid their\npreacher the measly salary of $600 a year, and I will be hornswaggled\nif they did not owe him $400 then. If I ever skinned any old fellows\nI did those old stingy coots. A man who doesn't pay to the church is\nas big a swindler as a man who doesn't pay his grocery bill and he is\ndead-beating his way to hell. You let somebody else pay your bills, you\nold dead-beat. God hasn't any more use today for a dead-beat in the\nchurch than he has for the man who doesn't pay his grocery bill--not a\nbit!\n\nBy power I do not mean culture. There never was a time when the\npeople of America were better informed than they are today; they have\nnewspapers, telephones, telegraphs, rural delivery, fast trains. You\ncan leave home and in five days you are in Europe. If something happens\nin China or Japan tonight you can read it before you go to bed. The\nislands of the sea are our neighbors.\n\nA stranger once asked: \"What is the most powerful and influential\nchurch in this town?\"\n\n\"That big stone Presbyterian church on the hill.\"\n\n\"How many members has it?\"\n\n\"I don't know, my wife is a member.\"\n\n\"How many Sunday-school members?\"\n\n\"I don't know; my children go.\"\n\n\"How many go to prayer-meetings?\"\n\n\"I don't know; I have never been there.\"\n\n\"How many go to communion?\"\n\n\"I don't know, I never go; my wife goes.\"\n\nThen the stranger said: \"Will you please tell me why you said it was\nthe most powerful and influential church in the community?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; it is the only church in the town that has three\nmillionaires in the church.\" That was why he thought it was a great\nchurch. The Church in America would die of dry rot and sink forty-nine\nfathoms in hell if all members were multi-millionaires and college\ngraduates. That ought not to be a barrier to spiritual power. By power\nI do not mean influence.\n\nI'd hate to have to walk back nineteen hundred years to Pentecost.\nThere were 120 at Pentecost who saved 3,000 souls.\n\nSome of the most powerful churches I have ever worked with were not the\nchurches that had the largest number or the richest members. Out in a\ntown in Iowa there were three women who used to pray all night every\nThursday night, one of them a colored woman. People used to come under\nher windows at night and listen to her pray. She murdered the king's\nEnglish five times in every sentence, but oh, she knew God. They had\n500 names on their list for prayer and when the meetings closed they\nhad checked off 397 of them. Every Friday I would be called over the\ntelephone or receive a letter or meet those women and they would tell\nme what assurances God gave them as to who would be saved. I have never\nmet three women that were stronger in faith than those three. That town\nwas Fairfield, Iowa, one of the brightest, cleanest, snappiest little\ntowns I ever went into.\n\n\nThe Meaning of Power\n\nSamson wist not the Spirit of the Lord had departed. So might we have\nmoney, so might we have members, so might we have increase in culture;\nbut we have not increased in power. I mean spiritual power; power to\nbring things to pass by way of reform. What do I mean by power? I have\ntold you what I did not mean.\n\nBy power I mean when the power of God comes upon you and enables you to\ndo what you could not do without that power. That comes to you through\nconfidence and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. There was a time when\nthe Church had more spiritual power than she has today; there never was\na time when she had more members than she has today; there never was\na time when she had more money than she has today; more culture; but\nthere was a time when she had more spiritual power than today.\n\nAnd when she had more spiritual power she was a separate institution.\nShe was not living for the devil as she is today. And the Church had\nnot become a clearing house for the forces of evil. We are told that at\nPentecost tongues of fire came upon the expectant worshipers.\n\nI don't mean this gabby stuff they have got today that they call the\nthings of the spirit; I don't mean that jabbering and froth and foaming\nat the mouth when you can't understand a word they say. Try the Spirit,\nwhether it be of God, and in all ages when the Church has stood for\nsomething she has had power.\n\nSo few of us dream of the tremendous power at our command. At the\nWorld's Fair at Chicago the door to one of the great buildings was\nwithout doorknob or latch, for these were not needed. There was a great\nmat at the entrance, and as you stepped upon it your weight would cause\nan electrical connection to be made and the great doors would swing\nopen. I take this old Book and stand upon it, and all the wonders of\nlife and eternity are opened to me. The power of the Holy Spirit is at\nmy command.\n\n\nChurch Needs Great Awakening\n\nLet's quit fiddling with religion and do something to bring the\nworld to Christ. We need a Pentecost today. The Church needs a great\nawakening. Now, I'll not stand anyone's saying anything against the\nChurch as an institution; but I will rebuke its sins and point out its\nshortcomings. Nobody who loves the Church can be silent when so much\nneeds to be said. I love the Church. I want to explode that old adage\nthat \"Love is blind\"; I tell you, love has an eagle's eyes.\n\nLots of churches are wrong in their financial policy. It is a wrong\nthat the churches have to resort to tricks that would shame the devil\nin order to filch a quarter out of a fellow's pocket to help pay the\npreacher's back salary. There is hardly a church in this country that\ncouldn't have abundant funds if the people would only give of their\nmeans as they are commanded by God.\n\nThen, too often you put the wrong men in places of authority in\nthe church. You elect some old fellow who would look better in a\npenitentiary suit, just because he had a \"drag\" somewhere. We must quit\nputting such men in church offices.\n\nWhen I was a boy I was taught how to put glass knobs on the feet of a\nchair and charge the chair with electricity. So long as I didn't touch\nanything but the chair I was all right, but if I touched the wall or\nsomething else I got a shock. The power passed through and from me.\nAs Christians we cannot come into touch with defiling things without\nsuffering a loss of spiritual power. You can't go to the dance and the\ncard party and the cheap-skate show without losing power. Yes, you can\ndo those things and be a church member. But you can be a church member\nwithout being a Christian. There's a difference.\n\nI read in the Bible that Lot first pitched his tents near Sodom. Next I\nread that Lot moved right into Sodom, and lived there for twenty years.\nHe lost his power there, too. When God warned him to get out of the\ncity he went and told his sons and daughters, but they wouldn't heed\nhim. He had lost his power over them. He warned his sons-in-law, but\nthey wouldn't heed him. He even lost power over his own wife, for he\ntold her not to look back as they fled, and she rubbered.\n\nIf you have lost spiritual power it is because you have disobeyed some\nclear command of God. Maybe you're stingy. God requires tithes. He\ncommands you to give one tenth of your income to him, and maybe you\ndon't do it. It may be your temper. It may be that you have neglected\nto read the Bible and haven't prayed as you should.\n\nThe Church is a failure because she is compromising with the men\nthat sit in the seats and own saloons whom she never rebukes; she\nis compromising with the men who rent their property for disorderly\nhouses, and whom she never rebukes. They are living off the products\nof shame and if they buy food and clothes for their wives and children\nfrom such money, they, too, are living off this product of shame. We\nhave lost our power because we have compromised.\n\nWhen I played baseball I used to attend every theater in the country.\nSince I was converted I have not darkened a theater's door, except to\npreach the Gospel. We've lost our power because we've lost our faith.\n\nOur leading members are leaders in nothing but card parties and\nsociety; they are not leaders in spiritual things. A man comes to me\nand says, \"Mrs. So-and-So is one of my leading members.\"\n\nI ask: \"Does she get to prayer-meetings?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Does she visit the sick?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Does she put her arms around some poor sinner and try to save her for\nChrist?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nAnd I find she is a leader in nothing but society, card parties, dances\nand bridge-whist clubs. I don't call that kind a leading woman in the\nchurch; she is the devil's bell-wether. That is true. I tell you people\nwhat I call your leading woman: She is the one who gets down on her\nknees and prays; she is the one that can wrap her arms around a sinner\nand lead her to Christ; that is a leading church member. You have it\ndoped out wrong.\n\nDid Martin Luther trim his sails to the breeze of his day? If he had,\nyou would never have had a Reformation. I will tell you why we have\nlost our power; I have told you what I don't mean by power.\n\n\nLost Power\n\nWe have lost our power because we have failed to insist on the\nseparation of the Church from the world. The Church is a separate body\nof men and women; we are to be in the world, but not of the world. She\nis all right in the world, all wrong when the world is in her, and the\ntrouble with the Church today is that she has sprung a leak. The flood\ntides of the world have been swept in until even her pews are engulfed,\nyes, even the choir loft is almost submerged. We have become but a\nthird-rate amusement bureau. The world has got to see a clean-cut line\nof demarkation between the Church and the world. So I believe.\n\nIf there's anything the Church of God needs it's to climb the stairs\nand get in an upper room.\n\nCome out from the things of the world. When you hand out a pickle\nand a bunch of celery for the cause of good, then will my Father not\nbe glorified; nor will he be glorified when you sell oyster soup at\ntwenty-five cents a dish, when one lone oyster chases around the dish\nto find his brother. It doesn't require much power to do that, for two\ndollars would hire a girl to dish up ice-cream. That does not get you\nspiritual power.\n\nThere is deep heart hungering in the Church today for the old-time\nPentecostal power.\n\nNow, I do not know that the Spirit will ever come to us as he came\nto Pentecost, for you must remember that he came to usher in the new\ndispensation, or the dispensation of the Holy Ghost. It is true he was\npresent in the Old Testament. He was in Abraham and Moses.\n\nYou'll have power when there is nothing questionable in your life.\n\nYou'll have power when you testify in a more positive manner.\n\nDo as the disciples did, believe and receive the Holy Spirit by\nwaiting. The Holy Spirit is ours. He is the promise of Jesus from the\nFather as a gift to the prayers of the Son. God can no more fill you\nwith the Spirit if you are not right, willing and waiting to receive\nHim, than he can send the sunshine into your house if you have the\nblinds and shutters all closed. You can pray till you are black in\nthe face and bald-headed, but you're wasting your time unless you\nagree with God. There can be no wedding unless two parties are agreed.\nIf the girl says \"No,\" that ends it. Don't think you are walking with\nGod just because your name is on a church record. Walk in the path of\nrighteousness even if it leads to a coffin and the graveyard.\n\nJesus gave his disciples power to perform miracles. That same power can\nbe delegated to you and me today. He always spoke of the Holy Spirit in\nthe future. He was not there. He didn't have to be. They had Jesus, but\nthe Church needs him today. It needs a baptism of the Holy Ghost. There\nare no substitutes. You can organize, prepare, hire the best singers\nand preachers in the universe, but you'll get no power. No matter what\nScriptural knowledge he may have, no matter if he prays so that it\nreaches the stars, no matter if his sermons sway the congregation with\ntheir word pictures, no matter if the singers warble faultlessly and to\nbeat the band--the preacher and the singers will produce no more effect\nthan the beating of a drum or the running of a music box. The preacher\nwho murders the king's English four times to every sentence and has the\nHoly Ghost will get the revival.\n\nThe Church today needs power. It has plenty of wealth, culture and\nnumbers. There is no substitute for the Holy Spirit and you cannot have\npower without the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is ours by the promise\nof Christ. To receive him we must give up all sin and walk in the path\nof righteousness even if it carries us to our graves or across the seas\nas a missionary. Give up everything the Lord forbids even if it is as\nimportant to you as your hand or your eye.\n\n[Illustration: Facsimile of Page One of Circular Handed to Every\n               Convert.\n\n   Dear Friend:\n\n You have by this act of coming forward publicly acknowledged your faith\n in Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour. No one could possibly be more\n rejoiced that you have done this, or be more anxious for you to succeed\n and get the most joy out of the Christian life, than I. Therefore, I\n ask you to read carefully this little tract. Paste it in your Bible and\n read it frequently.\n\n W. Sunday.\n\n _2 Tim:2:15_\n\n\n WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A CHRISTIAN\n\n  \"A Christian is any man, woman or child who comes to God as a lost\n  sinner, accepts the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour,\n  surrenders to Him as their Lord and Master, confesses Him as such\n  before the world, and strives to please Him in everything day by day.\"\n\n  Have =you= come to God realizing that you are a lost sinner? Have\n  =you= accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as =your= personal Saviour; that\n  is, do =you= believe with all your heart that God laid all =your=\n  iniquity on Him? (Isa. 53:5-6) and that =He= bore the penalty of\n  =your= sins (1 Peter 2:24), and that =your= sins are forgiven because\n  Jesus died in =your= stead?\n\n  Have =you= surrendered to Him as your Lord and Master? That is, are\n  =you= willing to do His will even when it conflicts with your desire?\n\n  Have =you= confessed to Him as your Saviour and Master before the\n  world?\n\n  Is it =your= purpose to strive to please Him in everything day by day?\n\n  If you can sincerely answer \"YES\" to the foregoing questions, then you\n  may know on the authority of God's Word that =you= are NOW a child of\n  God (John 1:12), that you have NOW eternal life (John 3:36); that is\n  to say, if you have done =your= part (i.e., believe that Christ died\n  in your place, and receive Him as your Saviour and Master) God has\n  done HIS part and imparted to you His own nature (II Peter 1:4).\n\n\n HOW TO MAKE A SUCCESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE\n\n  Now that you are a child of God =your= growth depends upon =yourself=.\n\n  It is impossible for you to become a useful Christian unless you\n  are willing to do the things which are absolutely essential to your\n  spiritual growth. To this end the following suggestions will be found\n  to be of vital importance:\n\n  =1. STUDY THE BIBLE=: Set aside at least fifteen minutes a day for\n  Bible Study. Let God talk to you fifteen minutes a day through His\n  Word. Talk to God fifteen minutes a day in prayer. Talk for God\n  fifteen minutes a day.\n\n  \"As new-born babes desire the sincere milk of the Word, that ye may\n  grow thereby.\"--1 Peter 2:2.\n\n  The word of God is food for the soul.\n\n  Commit to memory one verse of Scripture each day.\n\n  Join a Bible class. (Psa. 119:11.)\n\n  =2. PRAY MUCH=: Praying is talking to God. Talk to Him about\n  everything--your perplexities, joys, sorrows, sins, mistakes, friends,\n  enemies.\n\n  \"Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication\n  with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.\" Phil. 4:6.\n\n  =3. WIN SOMEONE FOR CHRIST=: For spiritual growth you need not only\n  food (Bible study) but exercise. Work for Christ. The only work Christ\n  ever set for Christians is to win others.\n\n  \"Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature.\"\n  Mark 16:15.\n\n  \"When I say unto the wicked, thou shalt surely die; and thou givest him\n  not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked from his wicked way, to\n  save his life; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his\n  blood will I require at thine hand.\"--Ezek. 3:18.\n\n  4. =SHUN EVIL COMPANIONS=: Avoid bad people, bad books, bad thoughts.\n  Read the First Psalm.\n\n  \"Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what\n  fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness, and what communion\n  hath light with darkness--what part hath he that believeth with an\n  infidel--wherefore come out from among them and be ye separate, saith\n  the Lord.\"--II Cor. 6:14-17.\n\n  Try to win the wicked for God, but do not choose them for your\n  companions.\n\n  5. =JOIN SOME CHURCH=: Be faithful in your attendance at the Sabbath\n  and mid-week services.\n\n  \"Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of\n  some is.\"--Heb. 10:25.\n\n  Co-operate with your pastor. God has appointed the pastor to be a\n  shepherd over the church and you should give him due reverence and\n  seek to assist him in his plans for the welfare of the church.\n\n  6. =GIVE TO THE SUPPORT OF THE LORD'S WORK=: Give as the Lord hath\n  prospered you.--I Cor. 16:2.\n\n  \"Give not grudgingly or of necessity, for God loveth a cheerful\n  giver.\"--I Cor. 9:7.\n\n  7. =DO NOT BECOME DISCOURAGED=: Expect temptations, discouragement and\n  persecution; the Christian life is warfare.\n\n  \"Yea and all who will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer\n  persecution.\"--II Tim. 3:12.\n\n The eternal God is thy refuge. We have the promises that all things,\n even strange and hard unaccountable obstacles, work together for our\n good. Many of God's brightest saints were once as weak as you are,\n passed through dark tunnels and the hottest fire, and yet their lives\n were enriched by their experiences, and the world made better because\n of their having lived in it.\n\n Read often the following passages of Scripture: Romans 8:18; James\n 1:12; I Corinthians 10:13.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nA Life Enlistment\n\n When a man, after starting to be a Christian, looks back, it is only a\n question of time until he goes back.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nProfessor William James, the philosopher, contended that there was a\nscientific value to the stories of Christian conversions; that these\nproperly belonged among the data of religion, to be weighed by the\nman of science. Harold Begbie's notable book, \"Twice-Born Men,\" was\nrecognized by Professor James as a contribution to the science of\nreligion; for it was simply a collection of the stories of men whose\nlives had been transformed by the gospel which the Salvation Army\nhad carried to them. A whole library of such books as \"Twice-Born\nMen\" could be written concerning the converts of Billy Sunday. His\nconverts not only \"right-about-face\" but they keep marching in the new\ndirection. Their enlistment is for life.\n\nThis point is one of the most critical in the whole realm of the\ndiscussion of revivals. Times without number it has been charged that\nthe converts of evangelists lose their religion as quickly as they got\nit. A perfectly fair question to ask concerning these Billy Sunday\ncampaigns is, \"Are they temporary attacks of religious hysteria, mere\neffervescent moods of spiritual exaltation, which are dissipated by the\nfirst contact with life's realities?\"\n\nHere is opportunity for the acid test. Billy Sunday has been conducting\nrevival meetings long enough to enable an investigator to go back over\nhis trail and trace his results. After years have passed, are there\nstill evidences of the presence and work of the evangelist? To this\nonly one answer can be made. The most skeptical and antagonistic person\ncannot fail to find hundreds and thousands of Billy Sunday converts in\nthe churches of the towns where the evangelist has conducted meetings\nduring the past twenty years.\n\nNot all of the converts have held fast; we cannot forget that one\nof the Twelve was a complete renegade, and that the others were for\na time weak in the faith. Alas, this condition is true of Christian\nconverts, however made. The terrible record revealed in each year's\nchurch statistics, of members who are missing--entirely lost to the\nknowledge of the Church--is enough to restrain every pastor from making\nuncharitable remarks upon the recruits won by an evangelist. The fact\nto be stressed at this present moment is that Billy Sunday converts are\nto be found in all departments of church work, in the ministry itself,\nand on the foreign field.\n\nOne reason for the conservation of the results of the Sunday campaigns\nis that all the powers of the evangelist and his organization are\nexerted to lead those who have confessed Christ in the tabernacles to\nbecome members of the church of their choice, at the earliest possible\ndate. Sunday says candidly that converts cannot expect to grow in\ngrace and usefulness outside the organized Church of Christ. Thus\nit comes about that before a Sunday campaign closes, and for months\nafterwards, the church papers report wholesale accessions to the local\ncongregations of all denominations. Three thousand new church members\nwere added in a single Sunday in the city of Scranton.\n\nWhat these campaigns mean in the way of rehabilitating individual\nchurches is illustrated by what a Scranton pastor said to me toward\nthe close of the Sunday campaign: \"You know my church burned down a\nshort time ago. We have been planning to rebuild. Now, however, we\nshall have to rebuild to twice the size of our old church, and we have\nenough new members already to make sure that our financial problem will\nbe a simple one.\" In other words, the coming of the evangelist had\nturned into a triumph and a new starting point for this congregation\nwhat might have otherwise been a time of discouragement and temporary\ndefeat.\n\nFor a moment the reader should take the viewpoint of the pastors who\nhave been struggling along faithfully, year after year, at best getting\nbut a few score of new members each year. Then Billy Sunday appears.\nThe entire atmosphere and outlook of the church is transformed within\na few days. Optimism reigns. Lax church members become Christian\nworkers, and enthusiasm for the kingdom pervades the entire membership.\nThe churches of the community find themselves bound together in a new\nsolidarity of fellowship and service.\n\nThen, to crown all, into the church membership come literally\nhundreds of men and women, mostly young, and all burning with the\nconvert's ardent zeal to do service for the Master. Can anybody but\na pastor conceive the thrill that must have come to the minister of\na Wilkes-Barre church which added one thousand new members to its\nexisting roll, as a result of the Billy Sunday campaign in that city?\n\nSix months after the Sunday meetings in Scranton I visited Carbondale,\na small town sixteen miles distant from Scranton, and talked with\ntwo of the resident pastors. There are four Protestant churches in\nCarbondale, which have already received a thousand new members within\nfive months. All these converts are either the direct result of\nBilly Sunday's preaching, or else the converts of converts. Out of a\nProtestant population of nine thousand persons, the Carbondale churches\nhave received one-ninth into their membership within six months. These\nbare figures do not express the greater total of Christian service and\nenthusiasm which permeates the community as an abiding legacy of the\nBilly Sunday campaign. These converts consider that they have been\nsaved to serve.\n\nAsked to fix a period after which he would expect a reaction from the\nSunday meetings, a critic would probably say about one year. On this\npoint we learn that when the evangelist visited the city of Scranton,\nwhich is within an hour's ride of Wilkes-Barre, he found that the\ninfluence of the meetings which he had held a year previously in\nWilkes-Barre were perhaps the most potent single factor in preparing\nthe people of Scranton for his coming. Night after night Wilkes-Barre\nsent delegations of scores and hundreds over to the Scranton\nTabernacle. Investigators from afar who came to look into the Scranton\nmeetings were advised to go to the neighboring city to ascertain what\nwere the effects of the campaign after a year. The result was always\nconvincing.\n\nWhen the evangelist was in Pittsburgh, McKeesport, where he had been\nsix years before, sent many delegations to hear him and on one occasion\nfifteen hundred persons made the journey from McKeesport to Pittsburgh\nto testify to the lasting benefits which their city had received from\nthe evangelist's visit.\n\nUsually some organization of the \"trail-hitters\" is effected after the\nevangelist's departure. These are bands for personal Christian work.\nThe most remarkable of them all is reported from Wichita, Kansas, where\nthe aftermath of the Sunday meetings has become so formidable as to\nsuggest a new and general method of Christian service by laymen.\n\nThe Sunday converts organized themselves into \"Gospel Teams,\" who\nannounce that they are ready to go anywhere and conduct religious\nmeetings, especially for men. They offer to pay their own expenses,\nalthough frequently the communities inviting them refuse to permit\nthis. Sometimes these Gospel Teams travel by automobiles or street cars\nand sometimes they make long railway journeys.\n\nThe men have so multiplied themselves that there are now more than\nthree hundred Gospel Teams in this work and they have formed \"The\nNational Federation of Gospel Teams\" of which Claude Stanley of Wichita\nis president and West Goodwin of Cherryvale, Kansas, is secretary.\n\nUp to date, the tremendous total of eleven thousand conversions is\nreported by these unsalaried, self-supporting gospel workers, who\njoyously acclaim Billy Sunday as their leader. They represent his\nteachings and his spirit in action.\n\nThe most celebrated of these gospel teams is \"The Business Men's Team\"\nof Wichita, an interdenominational group. It comprises such men as\nHenry Allen, the editor of the Wichita _Beacon_ and one of the foremost\npublic men of the state; the president of the Inter-urban Railway; the\npresident of the Kansas Mutual Bank, and other eminent business men.\nThis team has visited eleven states in its work, all without a penny of\ncost to the Church, and with results exceeding those achieved by many\ngreat and expensive organizations.\n\nThe Billy Sunday converts not only stick but they multiply themselves\nand become effective servants of the Church and the kingdom.\n\nNobody is left to conjecture as to the sort of counsel that Mr. Sunday\ngives his converts. Every man, woman and child who \"hits the trail\" is\nhanded a leaflet, telling him how to make a success of the Christian\nlife.\n\nA trumpet call to Christian service by every confessed disciple of\nJesus Christ is sounded by the evangelist. The following is an appeal\nof this sort:\n\n\n\"SHARP-SHOOTERS\"\n\nThe twentieth century has witnessed two apparently contradictory facts:\nThe decline of the Church and the growth of religious hunger in the\nmasses. The world during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries\npassed through a period of questioning and doubts, during which\neverything in heaven and earth was put into a crucible and melted down\ninto constituent elements. During that period many laymen and preachers\nlost their moorings.\n\nThe definite challenging note was lost out of the life of the ministry.\nThe preacher today is oftentimes a human interrogation point, preaching\nto empty pews. The hurrying, busy crowd in the street is saying to\nthe preacher and the Church, \"When you have something definite to say\nabout the issues of life, heaven, hell and salvation, we will listen;\ntill then we have no time for you.\" I believe we are on the eve of\na great national revival. The mission of the Church is to carry the\ngospel of Christ to the world.\n\nI believe that lack of efficient personal work is one of the curses\nof the Church today. The people of the Church are like squirrels in a\ncage. Lots of activity, but accomplishing nothing. It doesn't require a\nChristian life to sell oyster soup or run a bazaar or a rummage sale.\n\nLast year many churches reported no new members on confession of faith.\nWhy these meager results with this tremendous expenditure of energy\nand money? Why are so few people coming into the kingdom? I will tell\nyou what is the matter--there is not a definite effort put forth to\npersuade a definite person to receive a definite Saviour at a definite\ntime, and that definite time is now.\n\nI tell you the Church of the future must have personal work and prayer.\nThe trouble with some churches is that they think the preacher is a\nsort of ecclesiastical locomotive, who will snort and puff and pull the\nwhole bunch through to glory.\n\nA politician will work harder to get a vote than the Church of God will\nwork to have men brought to Christ. Watch some of the preachers go down\nthe aisles. They drag along as if they had grindstones tied to their\nfeet.\n\nNo political campaign is won by any stump speaker or any spell-binder\non the platform. It is won by a man-to-man canvass.\n\n\nThe Value of Personal Work\n\nThe children of this generation are wiser than the children of light.\nYou can learn something from the world about how to do things. Personal\nwork is the simplest and most effective form of work we can engage in.\nAndrew wins Peter. Peter wins three thousand at Pentecost. A man went\ninto a boot and shoe store and talked to the clerk about Jesus Christ.\nHe won the clerk to Christ. Do you know who that young man was? It\nwas Dwight L. Moody, and he went out and won multitudes to Christ.\nThe name of the man who won him was Kimball, and Kimball will get as\nmuch reward as Moody. Kimball worked to win Moody and Moody worked and\nwon the multitude. Andrew wins Peter and Peter wins three thousand at\nPentecost. That is the way God works today. Charles G. Finney, after\nlearning the name of any man or woman, would invariably ask: \"Are you\na Christian?\" There isn't any one here who hasn't drag enough to win\nsomebody to Christ.\n\nPersonal work is a difficult form of work; more difficult than\npreaching, singing, attending conventions, giving your goods to feed\nthe poor. The devil will let you have an easy time until God asks you\nto do personal work. It is all right while you sing in the choir, but\njust as soon as you get out and work for God the devil will be on your\nback and you will see all the flimsy excuses you can offer for not\nworking for the Lord. If you want to play into the hands of the devil\nbegin to offer your excuses.\n\nThere are many people who want to win somebody for Jesus and they are\nwaiting to be told how to do it. I believe there are hundreds and\nthousands of people who are willing to work and who know something\nmust be done, but they are waiting for help; I mean men and women of\nordinary ability. Many people are sick and tired and disgusted with\njust professing religion; they are tired of trotting to church and\ntrotting home again. They sit in a pew and listen to a sermon; they are\ntired of that, not speaking to anybody and not engaging in personal\nwork; they are getting tired of it and the church is dying because of\nit. A lot should wake up and go to the rescue and win souls for Jesus\nChrist.\n\nI want to say to the deacons, stewards, vestrymen, prudential\ncommittees, that they should work, and the place to begin is at your\nown home. Sit down and write the names of five or ten friends, and\nmany of them members of your own church, and two or three of those not\nmembers of any church; yet you mingle with these people in the club,\nin business, in your home in a friendly way. You meet them every week,\nsome of them every day, and you never speak to them on the subject of\nreligion; you never bring it to their attention at all; you should\nbe up and doing something for God and God's truth. There are always\nopportunities for a Christian to work for God. There is always a chance\nto speak to some one about God. Where you find one that won't care,\nyou'll find one thousand that will.\n\n\nMy Father's Business\n\nBe out and out for God. Have a heart-to-heart talk with some people and\nwin them to Christ. The first recorded words of Jesus are these: \"Wist\nye not that I must be about my Father's business?\"\n\nThe trouble is we are too lackadaisical in religion, indifferent and\ndead and lifeless. That is the spirit of the committees today in the\nChurch. I think the multitude in the Church will have to get converted\nthemselves before they can lead any one else to Christ. It is my firm\nconviction, after many years of experience in the work, that half the\npeople in the Church have never been converted, have never been born\nagain. I take up a bottle of water, uncork it and take a drink. That\nis experimental. One sip of water can convince me more of its power to\nslake thirst than 40,000 books written on the subject. You know quinine\nis bitter because you have experimented; you know fire will burn\nbecause you have experimented; you know ice will freeze; it is cold;\nyou have experimented.\n\nA man must experience religion to know God. All you know of God is what\nyou read in some book or what you heard somebody else talk about; you\nhaven't lived so that you could learn first-handed, so most of your\nreligion is second-handed. There is too much second-hand stuff in the\nChurch. It is your privilege to know and to have salvation. Jesus said\nto Peter: \"When you are converted strengthen your brethren.\" You are\nnot in a position to help anybody else unless you have been helped\nyourself.\n\nSo many church members know nothing about the Bible. A preacher will\ntake a text from the Bible and get as far from it as the East is from\nthe West. A young preacher just out of the seminary said: \"Must I\nconfine myself in my preaching to the Bible?\" Just like a shrimp who\nwould say, \"Must I confine my roaming to the Atlantic Ocean?\" Imagine\na little minnow saying: \"Must I confine myself to the Atlantic Ocean?\"\n\"Must I confine myself to the Bible?\" Just as if his intellect would\nexhaust it in two or three sermons.\n\nWe have cut loose from the Bible, and any man who is living contrary\nto the Bible is a sinner, whether he feels like a sinner or not. Every\nman who is living contrary to the laws is a criminal, whether he feels\nlike it or not. A man who breaks the law of God is a sinner, and is on\nthe road to hell, whether he feels like it or like a saint. Jesus came\ninto the world to reveal God to man, and man reveals him to man. The\nonly revelation we have of Jesus is through the Bible. You have got to\nknow Jesus to know God; that's how I get through there. There is no\nrevelation for God to make of himself greater than he has made through\nJesus Christ. It is not possible for the human intellect to have a\ngreater conception of God. Every man needs Christ. Jesus is the Saviour\nthat he needs and he has got to know the Bible to show what it is that\nmakes Jesus the Saviour. He needs a Saviour and now is the time to\naccept the Saviour and be saved. That's what the Bible says. Whatever\nthe Bible says, write \"finish\" after it and stop.\n\n\nFeeding the Spiritual Life\n\nThen you need the Holy Spirit. Without him you cannot do anything.\nThe spirit of God works through clean hands. There are too many dirty\nhands, too many dirty people trying to preach a clean gospel. I have\nknown men that have preached the truth and God has honored the truth,\nalthough their lives were not as they should be. But God honored the\ntruth and not the people who preached the truth. But if they had been\nChristians themselves then God would have honored them more, because he\nwould have honored them and the truth.\n\nPrayer. Three-fourths of the church members have no family prayer. They\nlet spiritual life starve. That is the reason the pews are full of\ndriftwood; that is the reason that religion is but a mirage to many.\n\nPray God to give you power. Pray God to give you power to carry on his\nwork after you have become converted. I don't preach a sermon that I\ndon't pray God for help, and I never finish a sermon that I don't thank\nGod that I have preached it. Then I say: \"Lord, you take care of the\nseed I have sown in that sermon.\" I think the Church needs a baptism of\ngood, pure \"horse sense.\"\n\nPure hearts. If I have any iniquity in my heart the Lord will not\ncome in. We need a wise head. We need horse sense in preaching. We\nneed horse sense in what we do. I think God is constantly looking for\na company of men and women that are constantly alive. There are too\nmany dead ones. He needs men and women that are always at it, not only\nduring the revival; we need to be full of faith; dead in earnest, never\ngive up, a bulldog tenacity and stick-to-it-iveness for the cause of\nGod Almighty.\n\n\nThe Dignity of Personal Work\n\nIf it is beneath your dignity to do personal work then you are above\nyour Master. If you are not willing to do what he did, then don't call\nhim your Lord. The servant is not greater than the owner of the house.\nThe chauffeur is not greater than the owner of the automobile. The\nservant on the railroad is not greater than the owners of the road.\nCertainly they are not greater than our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nIt requires an effort to win souls to Christ. There is no harder work\nand none brings greater results than winning souls.\n\nYou'll need courage. It is hard to do personal work and the devil will\ntry to oppose you. You'll seek excuses to try to get out of it. Many\npeople who attend the meetings regularly now will begin to stay at home\nwhen asked to do personal work. It will surprise you to see them lie to\nget out of doing personal work.\n\nWe need enthusiasm for God. If there is any place on God's earth\nthat needs a baptism of enthusiasm, it is the church and the\nprayer-meetings. It is not popular in some communities and in some\nchurches to be enthusiastic for God. You'll never accomplish anything\nwithout pure enthusiasm, and don't be afraid of being a religious\nenthusiast. Religion is too cold. Formality is choking it in the pews.\n\nThere is nothing accomplished in war, politics or religion, without\nenthusiasm. Admiral Decatur once gave this toast: \"My country: May she\nalways be right, but right or wrong, my country!\" That's enthusiasm.\n\nPerseverance is needed to conquer in this old life. Perseverance is\ncontagious, not an epidemic. Religion is contagious. Roman soldiers\nshortened their swords and added to their kingdom. You shorten the\ndistance between you and the sinner and you'll add to the kingdom of\nGod. The trouble is you have been trying to reach them with a ten-foot\npole. Drop your dignity and formality and walk up to them; take them by\nthe hand. You are too dignified. You sit in your fine homes and see the\ntown going to hell.\n\nWe need carefulness to win souls. The way to win souls is to be careful\nwhat you say. Study the disposition of the person with whom you talk.\n\nWe need tact. Personal work is the department of the church efficient\nto deal with the individual and not the masses. It is analogous to\nthe sharpshooter in the army so dreaded by the opposing forces. The\nsharpshooter picks out the pivotal individual instead of shooting at\nthe mass. The preacher shoots with a siege gun at long range. You can\ngo to the individual and dispose of his difficulties. I shoot out there\ntwo or three hundred feet and you sit right beside people. If I were a\nphysician and you were sick I'd not prescribe _en masse_, I'd go down\nand see you individually. I'd try to find out what was the matter and\nprescribe what you needed. All medicine is good for something, but not\nfor everything.\n\nWe need sympathy. One of the noblest traits of the human character is\nsympathy. It levels mountains, warms the broken heart and melts the\niceberg. Have sympathy with the sinner. Not with sin, but the fact that\nhe is one. God hates sin and the devil. He will not compromise. Have\nsympathy with the girl who sins, but not with the sin that ruined her.\nGet down on the ground where the others are. You are away up there\nsaved, but you must get down and help the sinner.\n\n\nFive Classes of People\n\nThere are five classes of people and this classification will touch\nevery man and woman, whether in Scranton, New York or London.\n\nFirst, those who can not attend church, and you will always find some.\nSome are sick, shut in; some have to work in hotels and restaurants;\nthe maids in your house have to get your meals, the railroad men have\nto go out, the furnaces must be kept going in the steel works.\n\nSecond, those who can attend and who do not attend church. There are\nmillions of people that can and don't attend church. Some fellows never\ndarken the church door until they die, and they carry their old carcass\nin to have a large funeral. It is no compliment to any man, and it is\nan insult to manhood, and disgrace to the individual, that he never\ndarkens the church door. But he darkens the door of the grog shop any\nday.\n\nThird, those who can and do attend church and who are not moved by the\npreaching. There are lots of people who come out of curiosity.\n\nFourth, those who can go to church and those who do go to church and\nare moved by the preaching and convicted but not converted. Every man\nthat hears the truth is convicted. Talk to those men about Jesus\nChrist. Get them to take their stand for righteousness.\n\nFifth, those who can and do go to church and are convicted by the\npreaching and converted. They need strengthening. They are converted\nnow, but they need the benefit of your experience. You say, \"Where\nwill I find these people to talk to them?\" Where won't you find them?\nWhere can you find a place where they are not? You will only find one\nplace where they are not and that is in the cemetery. Right in your\nneighborhood, right in your block, how many are Christians? Is your\nhusband a Christian? Are your children Christians? If they are, let\nthem alone and get after somebody else's husband and children. Don't\nsit down and thank God that your husband and children are Christians.\nSuppose I were to say: \"My family, my George, my Nell, my Paul, my\nHelen are Christians!\" We are all Christians, let the rest of the world\ngo to the devil. There is too much of that spirit in the Church today.\n\nGo from house to house. Go to the people in your block, in your place\nof business. Have you said anything to the telephone girl when you\ncalled her up? You are quick enough to jump on her when she gives you\nthe wrong number. Have you said anything to the delivery boy--to the\nbutcher? Have you asked the milkman? Have you said anything to the\nnewsboy who throws your paper on the doorstep at night? Have you called\nthem up at the newspaper office? Have you said anything to the girl\nwho waits on you at the store; to the servant who brings your dinner\nin at home; to the woman who scrubs your floors? Where will you find\nthem?--where won't you find them?\n\n\nThe Privilege of Personal Work\n\nPersonal work is a great privilege. Not that God needs us, but that we\nneed him. Jesus Christ worked. \"I must do the works of Him that sent\nme.\" So must you. He didn't send me to work and you to loaf. Honor the\nGod that gives you the privilege to do what he wants. Jesus worked.\n\nPlease God and see how it will delight your soul. If you'll win a soul\nyou will have a blessing that the average church member knows nothing\nabout. They are absolute strangers to the higher Christian life. We\nneed an aroused church. An anxious church makes anxious sinners.\n\nIf all the Methodist preachers would each save a soul a month there\nwould be 460,000 souls saved in a year. If all the Baptist preachers\nwould each save a soul a month there would be 426,000 souls saved in a\nyear. If all the other evangelical preachers would save a soul a month\nthere would be 1,425,000 souls saved a year. Over 7,000 Protestant\nchurches recently made report of no accessions on confession of faith.\nChrist said to preach the gospel to all the world and that means every\ncreature in the world.\n\n[Illustration: \"MY GOD, I'VE GOT TWO BOYS DOWN THERE!\"]\n\nListen to this: There are 13,000,000 young men in this country between\nthe ages of sixteen and thirty years; 12,000,000 are not members of\nany church, Protestant or Catholic; 5,000,000 of them go to church\noccasionally; 7,000,000 never darken a church door from one year's\nend to another. They fill the saloons and the houses of ill fame, the\nhaunts of vice and corruption, and yet most young men have been touched\nby some Sunday-school influences; but you don't win them for God and\nthey go into the world never won for God.\n\n[Illustration: \"YOU OLD HYPOCRITE!\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"IT'S UP TO YOU.\"]\n\nI want to tell you if you want to solve the problem for the future get\nhold of the young men now. Get them for God now. Save your boys and\ngirls. Save the young man and woman and you launch a life-boat.\n\nAt the Iroquois fire in Chicago six hundred people were burned to\ndeath. One young woman about seventeen years of age fought through the\ncrowd, but her hair was singed from her head, her clothes were burned,\nher face blistered. She got on a street car to go to her home in Oak\nPark. She was wringing her hands and crying hysterically, and a woman\nsaid to her: \"Why, you ought to be thankful you escaped with your life.\"\n\n\"I escaped--but I didn't save anybody; there are hundreds that died. To\nthink that I escaped and didn't save anybody.\"\n\nIn Pennsylvania there was once a mine explosion, and the people were\nrushing there to help. Up came an old miner seventy or eighty years of\nage, tired, tottering and exhausted. He threw off his vest, his coat\nand hat and picked up a pick and shovel. Some of them stopped him and\nsaid: \"What is the matter? You are too old; let some of the younger\nones do that. Stand back.\"\n\nThe old fellow said: \"My God, I've got two boys down there!\"\n\nSo you see it seems to make all the difference when you've got some boy\ndown there.\n\nWho is wise? You say Andrew Carnegie, the millionaire, is wise, the\nmayor, the judge, the governor, the educator, the superintendent of\nschools, the principal of the high school, the people who don't worry\nor don't live for pleasure, the inventor. But what does the Lord say?\nThe Lord says, \"He who winneth souls is wise.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\n\"A Good Soldier of Jesus Christ\"\n\n I'd rather undertake to save ten drunkards than one old financial\n Shylock--it would be easier.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nSympathetic observers comment in distressed tones upon the physical\nexhaustion of Sunday after every one of his addresses. He speaks with\nsuch intensity and vigor that he is completely spent by every effort.\nTo one who does not know that he has worked at this terrific pace for\nnear a score of years it seems as if the evangelist is on the verge of\na complete collapse. He certainly seems to speak \"as a dying man to\ndying men.\" The uttermost ounce of his energy is offered up to each\naudience. Billy Sunday is an unsparing worker.\n\nFor a month or six weeks of every year he gives himself to rest.\nThe remainder of the year he is under a strain more intense than\nthat of a great political campaign. Even his Monday rest day, which\nis supposed to be devoted to recuperation, is oftener than not\ngiven to holding special meetings in some other city than the one\nwherein he is campaigning. Speaking twice or oftener every day, to\naudiences averaging many thousands, is a tax upon one's nerve force\nand vitality beyond all computation. In addition to this, Sunday\nhas his administrative work, with its many perplexities and grave\nresponsibilities.\n\nWithal, the evangelist, like every other man pre-eminent in his\ncalling, suffers a great loneliness; he has few intimates who can\nlead his mind apart from his work. What says Kipling, in his \"Song of\nDiego Valdez,\" the lord high admiral of Spain, who pined in vain for\nthe comradeship of his old companions, but who, in the aloneness of\neminence, mourned his solitary state?\n\n    \"They sold Diego Valdez\n    To bondage of great deeds.\"\n\nThe computable aggregate of Sunday's work is almost unbelievable.\nHis associates say that his converts number more than a quarter of a\nmillion persons. That is a greater total than the whole membership of\nthe entire Christian Church, decades after the resurrection of our\nLord. Imagine a city of a quarter of a million inhabitants, every one\nof whom was a zealous disciple of Jesus Christ. What a procession these\n\"trail-hitters\" would make could they all be gathered into one great\ncampaign parade!\n\nOf course these converts are not all trophies of Billy Sunday's\npreaching power. He has not won them alone. He has merely stood in the\nforefront, as the agent of the Church, with vast co-operative forces\nbehind him. Nevertheless, he has been the occasion and the instrument\nfor this huge accomplishment in the Church's conquest.\n\nWhen it comes to counting up the aggregate size of Sunday's audiences,\none is tempted not to believe his own figures, for the total runs up\ninto the millions, and even the tens of millions. Probably no living\nman has spoken to so great numbers of human beings as Billy Sunday.\n\nMore eloquent than any comment upon the magnitude and number of his\nmeetings is the following summary of his campaigns gathered from\nvarious sources. Sunday himself does not keep records of his work. His\nmotto seems to be, \"Forgetting those things which are behind.\"\n\nIn 1904-5 Billy Sunday visited various cities of Illinois, where\nconversions ranged in numbers from 650 to 1,800; in Iowa, where\nconversions ranged from 400 to 1,000; and in a few other towns. In\n1905-6 numerous campaigns in Illinois, Iowa and Minnesota produced\nconverts ranging from 550 to 2,400, the highest number being reached\nin Burlington, Iowa. In 1906-7 the converts numbered over 12,000,\nwith a maximum of 3,000 in Kewanee, Illinois. In 1907-8 campaigns in\nIllinois and Iowa, and one in Sharon, Pennsylvania, reported over\n24,000 converts in all, with a maximum of 6,700 in Decatur, Illinois.\nIn 1908-9 the total number of converts reached over 18,000, with 5,300\nin Spokane, Washington, and 4,700 in Springfield, Illinois. In 1908-9\ncampaigns in various cities reported a total of 35,000 converts, with\n6,600 in Newcastle, Pennsylvania, 5,900 in Youngstown, Ohio, and 5,000\nin Danville, Illinois. In 1911-12 campaigns in cities of Ohio, in\nErie, Pennsylvania, and in Wichita, Kansas, reported a total of 36,000\nconverts, with 7,600 in Toledo, and 6,800 in Springfield. In 1912-13\ncampaigns in other Ohio and Pennsylvania cities and in Fargo, North\nDakota; South Bend, Indiana; and Wheeling, West Virginia, brought\n81,000 converts, with a minimum in Fargo of 4,000, and a maximum of\n18,000 in Columbus.\n\n_The Lutheran Observer_ gives the following table of statistics for\neighteen of the largest cities in which campaigns have been conducted:\n\n                       Population   Conversions\n  Pittsburgh, Pa         533,905      26,601\n  Steubenville, Ohio      22,391       7,888\n  Columbus, Ohio         181,511      18,137\n  McKeesport, Pa          42,694      10,022\n  Toledo, Ohio           168,497       7,686\n  Wheeling, W. Va         41,641       8,300\n  Springfield, Ohio       46,921       6,804\n  Newcastle, Pa           36,280       6,683\n  Erie, Pa                66,525       5,312\n  Portsmouth, Ohio        23,481       5,224\n  Canton, Ohio            50,217       5,640\n  Youngstown, Ohio        79,066       5,915\n  South Bend, Ind         53,684       6,398\n  Wilkes-Barre, Pa        67,105      16,584\n  Beaver Falls, Pa        12,191       6,000\n  Lima, Ohio              30,508       5,659\n  East Liverpool, Ohio    20,387       6,354\n  Johnstown, Pa           55,482      11,829\n                          ------     -------\n     Total                           167,036\n\nIncluded in the 18,000 converts in Columbus were the chief of police\nand all the policemen who had been detailed to duty at the tabernacle.\nA notable work was also done in the penitentiary.\n\nWilkes-Barre's 16,000 conversions bore an extraordinary relation to the\npopulation of the city, which is but 67,105. The sheriff was among the\nWilkes-Barre converts and he has since proved his faith by his works in\nprosecuting law-breakers.\n\nThe statistics show that there were 6,000 converts at South Bend,\nIndiana, in the spring of 1913, but they do not reveal the fact that\nimmediately afterwards there was inaugurated an era of civic reform\nwhich cleaned up the city for the first time in fifteen years, and\nelected as mayor one of the Billy Sunday converts.\n\nPrior to the Sunday campaign in Steubenville, Ohio, September and\nOctober, 1913 (where the converts numbered 8,000), the town had gone\n\"wet\" by 1,400 majority, after the meetings it went \"dry\" by 300\nmajority.\n\nJohnstown, Pennsylvania, with a campaign held November and December,\n1913, reported 12,000 conversions, and a Billy Sunday Anti-saloon\nLeague of 10,000 men. The fame of the Pittsburgh campaign, January and\nFebruary, 1914, is in all the churches; 27,000 converts were reported.\n\nMrs. Sunday is my authority for these and the following details of\nrecent meetings:\n\nThe Scranton campaign (March and April, 1914) was unusual in several\nrespects. It not only reported 18,000 converts, but it also held the\ngreatest industrial parade, under distinctively Christian auspices,\nthat the country has ever seen. In preparation for the Sunday meetings\n10,000 adults were enlisted in Bible classes, and this number grew\nsteadily during and after the campaign.\n\nIn May and June of 1914 the evangelist worked in Huntingdon, West\nVirginia, where the conversions were 6,500. From there he went to\nColorado Springs and a total of 4,500 persons \"hit the trail.\" The\nColorado Springs meetings were unusual in that the attendants were from\nall parts of the country, and so the revival fire was carried far.\nThe organization of adult Bible classes followed the Colorado Springs\ncampaign. This promises to be one of the distinctive features of Billy\nSunday's meetings.\n\nIn reading such a compiled record as the foregoing, it is to be\nremembered that in all things that affect spiritual values the only\ntrue record is that which is kept in another world. Enough has been\nshown, however, to make clear that Sunday practices what he preaches\nwhen he urges Christians to whole-hearted service.\n\n\nSUNDAY'S \"CONSECRATION\" SERMON\n\n\"I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye\npresent your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,\nwhich is your reasonable service.\"\n\nThe armies of God are never made up of drafted men and women, ordered\ninto service whether willing or not. God never owned a slave. God\ndoesn't want you to do anything that you can't do without protest. This\nis not a call to hard duty, but an invitation to the enjoyment of a\nprivilege. It is not a call to hired labor to take the hoe and go into\nthe field, but the appeal of a loving father to his children to partake\nof all he has to give.\n\nIf there is nothing in you that will respond to God's appeal when you\nthink of his mercies, I don't think much of you. The impelling motive\nof my text is gratitude, not fear. It looks to Calvary, not to Sinai.\nWe are being entreated, not threatened. That's the amazing thing to me.\nTo think that God would entreat us--would stand to entreat us! He is\ngiving me a chance to show I love him.\n\nIf you are not ready to offer it in gratitude, God doesn't want you to\nserve him through fear, but because you realize his love for you, and\nappreciate and respond to it.\n\nA business man who loves his wife will never be too busy to do\nsomething for her, never too busy to stop sometimes to think of\nhow good she has been and what she has done for him. If men would\nonly think of the things God has done for them there would be less\ncard-playing, less thought of dinners and of concerts and other\ndiversions of the world. God wants us to sit down and think over his\ngoodness to us. The man who doesn't isn't worth a nickel a punch. Has\nGod done anything for us as a nation, has he done anything for us as\nindividuals, that commands our gratitude?\n\nAstronomers have counted three hundred and eighty million stars, and\nthey have barely commenced. Why, you might as well try to count those\ncountless stars as to try to count God's mercies. You might as well try\nto count the drops of water in the sea or the grains of sand upon the\nshore. If we only think, we shall say with David: \"According to Thy\ntender mercies.\"\n\n\nGod's Mercies\n\nAn old lady said one morning that she would try to count all God's\nmercies for that one day, but at noon she was becoming confused, and at\nthree o'clock she threw up her hands and said: \"They come three times\ntoo fast for me to count.\"\n\nJust think of the things we have to be thankful for! A visitor to an\ninsane asylum was walking through the grounds and as he passed one of\nthe buildings he heard a voice from a barred window high up in the wall\nand it said: \"Stranger, did you ever thank God for your reason?\" He had\nnever thought of that before, but he says that he has thought of it\nevery day since. Did you ever think that thousands of people who were\njust as good as you are, are beating their heads against the walls of\npadded cells? Did you ever think what a blessed thing it is that you\nare sane and you go about among men and follow your daily duties, and\ngo home to be greeted by your wife and have your children climb about\nyou?\n\nDid you ever thank God for your eyes? Did you ever thank him that you\ncan see the sunrise and the sunset and can see the flowers and the\ntrees and look upon the storm? Did you ever thank God that you have two\ngood eyes while so many others less fortunate than you must grope their\nway in blindness to the coffin?\n\nDid you ever thank God for hearing? That you can hear music and the\nvoices of friends and dear ones? That you can leave your home and\nbusiness, and come here and hear the songs and the preaching of the\nword of God? Did you ever think what it would mean to be deaf?\n\nDid you ever thank God for the blessing of taste? Some people can't\ntell whether they are eating sawdust and shavings or strawberries and\nice cream. Think of the good things we enjoy! Others have tastes so\nvicious that they find it almost impossible to eat. God might have made\nour food taste like quinine.\n\nDid you ever thank God that you can sleep? If not, you ought to be\nkept awake for a month. Think of the thousands who suffer from pain or\ninsomnia so that they can sleep only under opiates. Did you ever wake\nup in the morning and thank God that you have had a good night's rest?\nIf you haven't, God ought to keep you awake for a week, then you'd know\nyou've had reason to be thankful.\n\nDid you ever thank God for the doctors and nurses and hospitals? For\nthe surgeon who comes with scalpel to save your life or relieve your\nsufferings? If it had not been for them you'd be under the grass. For\nthe nurse who watches over you that you may be restored to health?\n\nDid you ever thank God for the bread you eat, while so many others are\nhungry? Did you ever thank him for the enemy that has been baffled, for\nthe lie against you that has failed?\n\nOut in Elgin, Illinois, I was taken driving by a friend, and he said\nthat he wanted me to go with him to see a man. He took me to see a man\nwho was lying in bed, with arms most pitifully wasted by suffering. The\npoor fellow said he had been in bed for thirty-two years, but he wasn't\nworrying about that. He said he was so sorry for the well people who\ndidn't know Jesus. I went out thanking God that I could walk. If your\nhearts are not made of stone or adamant they will melt with gratitude\nwhen you think of the many mercies, the tender mercies, of God.\n\n[Illustration: BILLY SUNDAY AND HIS STAFF AT SCRANTON. FROM LEFT TO\nRIGHT: (STANDING) F. R. SEIBERT, A. G. GILL: (SITTING) B. D. ACKLEY,\nMISS FRANCES MILLER, MISS GRACE SAXE, MR. SUNDAY.]\n\n\nThe Living Sacrifice\n\n\"Brethren\"--that's what God calls his true followers. No speaking from\nthe loft. If there's any lesson we need to learn it is that of being\n\"brethren.\"\n\nSinners are not called \"brethren\" in the Bible. God commands sinners.\nThey are in rebellion. He entreats Christians. When Lincoln called for\nvolunteers he addressed men as \"citizens of the United States,\" not as\nforeigners.\n\nThe man who is appreciative of God's mercies will not have much mercy\non himself. Don't stand up and say: \"I'll do what Jesus bids me to\ndo, and go where he bids me to go,\" then go to bed. Present your\nbodies--not mine--not those of your wives; you must present your own.\nPresent your bodies; not your neighbor's; not your children's; it is\ntheir duty to do that. Do you trust God enough to let him do what he\nwants to do?\n\nHenry Varley said to Moody, when that great American was in England,\nthat God is waiting to show this world what one man could do for him.\nMoody said: \"Varley, by the grace of God I'll be that man\"; and God\ntook hold of Moody and shook the world with him. God would shake the\nworld with us today if only we would present our bodies as a living\nsacrifice to him, as Moody did. Are you willing to present yourself? I\nam tired of a church of five hundred or seven hundred members without\npower enough to bring one soul to Christ.\n\nAt the opening of the Civil War many a man was willing that the country\nshould be saved by able-bodied male relatives of his wife, who made\nthemselves bullet-men, but he didn't go himself. God isn't asking for\nother men's bodies. He's asking for yours. If you would all give to God\nwhat rightfully belongs to him, I tell you he would create a commotion\non earth and in hell. If God had the feet of some of you he would point\nyour toes in different ways from those you have been going for many\nyears. If he had your feet he would never head you into a booze joint.\nIf he had your feet he would never send you into a ball-room. If he\nhad the feet of some of you he would make you wear out shoe leather\nlugging back what you've taken that doesn't belong to you. If God had\nyour feet he would take you to prayer-meeting. I'm afraid the preacher\nwould have nervous prostration, for he hasn't seen some of you there in\nyears. If God had your feet you'd find it harder to follow the devil.\nSome of you preachers have your children going to dancing school and I\nhear some of you go to dances. He would make your daily walk conform to\nthe Golden Rule and the Sermon on the Mount.\n\nSome people work only with their mouths. God wants that part that's on\nthe ground. Some soldiers sit around and smell the coffee and watch the\nbacon frying.\n\nIf God had your hands he would make you let go a lot of things you hold\non to with a death-like grip. If you don't let go of some of the things\nyou hold so tightly they will drag you down to hell. He would have you\nlet go some of the things you pay taxes on, but don't own, and he would\nmake you let go of money to pay taxes on some that you do own. Some\npeople are so busy muck-raking that they will lose a crown of glory\nhereafter. If God had your hands, how many countless tears you would\nwash away. A friend of mine bought a typewriter, and when he tried\nto use it his fingers seemed to be all sticks, but now he can write\nforty-five words a minute. Let God have your hands and he will make\nthem do things that would make the angels wonder and applaud.\n\n\nA Glass of Champagne\n\nA young man went down to Thomasville, Alabama, and while there was\ninvited to a dress ball--or rather an undress ball, if what I have read\nabout such affairs properly describes the uniforms. A young lady--a\nyoung lady with eyes like the dove and with beautiful tresses--came\nup to him and said to the young man, \"Won't you pledge a glass of\nchampagne with me?\"\n\nThe young man thanked her, but said: \"No, I don't drink.\"\n\n\"Not with me?\" she said, and smiled; and he repeated his answer, \"No.\"\n\nThen she said: \"If I had thought you would refuse me I would not have\nasked you and exposed myself to the embarrassment of a refusal. I did\nnot suppose you would think me bold for speaking to you in this way,\nand I thought you might be lonely.\"\n\nA little later she came back to him and repeated her invitation. Again\nhe said: \"No.\"\n\nOthers came up and laughed. He took it and hesitated. She smiled at him\nand he gave in and drank the champagne, then drank another glass and\nanother, until he was flushed with it. Then he danced.\n\nAt two o'clock the next morning a man with a linen duster over his\nother clothes walked back upon the railroad-station platform, waiting\nfor a train for the North; and as he walked he would exclaim, \"Oh God!\"\nand would pull a pint flask from his pocket and drink. \"My God,\" he\nwould say, \"what will mother say?\" Four months later in his home in\nVermont, with his weeping parents by him and with four strong men to\nhold him down, he died of delirium tremens.\n\nThe Epworth League's motto is: \"Look up, lift up.\" But you'll never\nlift much up unless God has hold of your hands. Unless he has, you will\nnever put your hands deep in your pocket, up to the elbows, and bring\nthem up full of money for his cause. A man who was about to be baptized\ntook out his watch and laid it aside; then he took out his knife and\nbankbook and laid them aside.\n\n\"Better give me your pocketbook to put aside for you,\" said the\nminister.\n\n\"No,\" said the man, \"I want it to be baptized, too.\"\n\nThere's no such thing as a bargain-counter religion. Pure and undefiled\nreligion will do more when God has something besides pennies to work\nwith. God doesn't run any excursions to heaven. You must pay the\nfull fare. Your religion is worth just what it cost you. If you get\nreligion and then lie down and go to sleep, your joints will get stiff\nas Rip Van Winkle's did, and you'll never win the religious marathon.\n\n\nDenying One's Self\n\nA man said to his wife that he had heard the preacher say that religion\nis worth just what it costs, and that he had determined to give more\nfor religion and to deny himself as well. \"What will you give up?\"\nshe asked. He said that he would give up coffee--for he dearly loved\ncoffee--used to drink several cups at every meal, the very best. She\nsaid that she would give up something, too--that she would give up\ntea. Then their daughter said she would give up some of her little\npleasures, and the father turned to his son Tom, who was shoveling\nmashed potatoes, covered with chicken gravy, into his mouth. He said,\n\"I'll give up salt mackerel. I never did like the stuff, anyway.\"\n\nThere are too many salt-mackerel people like that in the pews of our\nchurches today. They will take something that they don't like, and that\nnobody else will have, and give it to the Lord. That isn't enough for\nGod. He wants the best we have.\n\nGod wants your body with blood in it. Cain's altar was bigger than\nAbel's, but it had nothing valuable on it, while Abel's had real blood.\nGod rejected Cain's and accepted Abel's. God turns down the man who\nmerely lives a moral life and does not accept the religion of Jesus\nChrist. You must come with Jesus' blood. How thankful you are depends\non how much you are willing to sacrifice.\n\nI don't believe that the most honored angel in heaven has such a chance\nas we have. Angels can't suffer. They can't make sacrifices. They can\nclaim that they love God, but we can prove it.\n\nWhat would you think of a soldier if when he was ordered \"Present\narms,\" he would answer, \"Tomorrow\"; if he would say, \"When the man\nnext to me does\"; if he would say, \"When I get a new uniform\"?\n\"Present\"--that means now. It is in the present tense. God wants us to\nmake a present of our bodies to him--because we love him.\n\nA little girl showed a man some presents she had received and he asked\nher, \"How long may you keep them?\"\n\n\"How long?\" she answered. \"Why, they were given to me. They are mine!\"\n\nMany a man gives his boy a colt or a calf, then when it has grown to a\nhorse or a cow he sells it and pockets the money. Some of you fellows\nneed to do a little thinking along that line. When we give our bodies,\nthey ought to be His for keeps.\n\n\nThinking for God\n\nIf when you make a present you do not mean to give it outright, you are\nnot honest. \"Will a man rob God?\" You bet he will--a heap quicker than\nhe will rob any one else.\n\nYour body, that takes the head as well as hands. God wants brains as\nwell as bones and muscles. We ought to do our best thinking for God.\nGod is in the greatest business there is, and he wants the best help\nhe can get. Some of you old deacons and elders make me sick. If you\nused such methods in business as you do in the work of the Church\nthe sheriff's sale flag would soon be hanging outside your door. I\ndon't ask any of you business men to curtail any of your business\nactivities, but I do ask that you give more of your energy to the\nthings of religion. You want to use good business methods in religion.\nThe Republicans and the Democrats and the Socialists use good business\nmethods in politics. The farmer who hasn't any sense is still plowing\nwith a forked stick. The farmer who has sense uses a modern plow. Use\ncommon sense.\n\nBishop Taylor promised God that he would do as much hard thinking and\nplanning for him as he would do for another man for money. He did it.\nSo did Wesley and Whitefield and Savonarola, and look what they did for\nGod! If there is any better way of doing God's business than there was\none hundred years ago, for God's sake do it! He's entitled to the best\nthere is. This thing of just ringing the church bell to get people to\ncome in is about played out. In business, if they have a machine that\nis out of date and doesn't produce good results, it goes onto the scrap\nheap. If a man can produce a machine that can enlarge the product or\nbetter it, that machine is adopted at once. But in religion we have the\nsame old flint-lock guns, smooth-bore; the same old dips and tallow\ncandles; the same old stage coaches over corduroy roads; and if a\nprotest is made some of you will roll your eyes as if you had on a hair\nshirt, and say: \"Surely this is not the Lord's set time for work.\" I\ntell you any time is God's time. Now is God's time. It was God's time\nto teach us about electricity long before Franklin discovered it, but\nnobody had sense enough to learn.\n\nIt was God's time to give us the electric light long before Edison\ninvented it, but nobody had sense enough to understand it. It was God's\nset time to give us the steam engine long before Watts watched the\nkettle boil and saw it puff the lid off, but nobody had sense enough to\ngrasp the idea.\n\nIf God Almighty only had possession of your mouths, he'd stop your\nlying. If he had your mouths he'd stop your knocking. If he had your\nmouths, he'd stop your misrepresentations. If he had your mouths, he'd\nstop your swearing. If he had your mouths, he'd stop your back-biting.\nIf he had your mouths, he'd stop your slanders. There would be no\ncriticizing, no white lies, no black lies, no social lies, no talking\nbehind backs.\n\nIf God had your mouths, so much money wouldn't go up in tobacco smoke\nor out in tobacco spit. If God had your mouths, there would be no\nthousands of dollars a year spent for whisky, beer and wine. You\nwouldn't give so much to the devil and you would give more to the\nChurch. Many of you church pillars wouldn't be so noisy in politics\nand so quiet in religion. So many of you fellows wouldn't yell like\nComanche Indians at a ratification meeting and sit like a bump on a log\nin prayer-meeting.\n\nIf God had our eyes he'd bring the millennium. His eyes run to and fro\nthrough the world seeking for men to serve him; and if he had our eyes,\nhow our eyes would run to and fro looking for ways to help bring men\nto Christ. How hard it would be for sinners to get away. We would be\nlooking for drunkards, and the prostitutes and down-and-outs, to lift\nand save them. How many sorrowful hearts we would find and soothe, how\nmany griefs we would alleviate! Great God! How little you are doing.\nDon't you feel ashamed? Aren't you looking for a knot-hole to crawl\nthrough? If God had our eyes how many would stop looking at a lot of\nthings that make us proud and unclean and selfish and critical and\nunchristian.\n\n\nWhat God Asks\n\nGod wants you to give your body. Are you afraid to give it to him?\nAre you afraid of the doctor when you are sick? Your body--that thing\nthat sits out there in the seat, that thing that sits up there in the\nchoir and sings, that thing that sits there and writes editorials, that\nbody which can show Jesus Christ to fallen sons of Adam better than\nany angel--that's what God wants. God wants you to bring it to him and\nsay: \"Take it, God, it's yours.\" If he had your body, dissipation,\novereating and undersleeping would stop, for the body is holy ground.\nWe dare not abuse it.\n\nA friend of mine paid $10,000 for a horse. He put him in a stable and\nthere the animal had care-takers attending him day and night, who\nrubbed him down, and watched his feet to take care that they should not\nbe injured, and put mosquito netting on the windows, and cooled him\nwith electric fans, and sprinkled his oats and his hay. They wanted to\nkeep him in shape, for he was worth $10,000 and they wanted him for the\nrace-track. Give your body to God, and the devil will be welcome to\nanything he can find.\n\nGod wants your body as a living sacrifice, not a dead one. There are\ntoo many dead ones. A time was when God was satisfied with a dead\nsacrifice. Under old Jewish law a dead sheep would do. He wants my\nbody now when I'm alive and not when I am dead and the undertaker is\nwaiting to carry it out to the cemetery. The day of that dispensation\nis past, and now he wants you, a living sacrifice, a real sacrifice.\nA traveling man who wants to make his wife a present, and sits up all\nnight in the train instead of taking a berth for three dollars and uses\nthe three dollars to buy a present for his wife, makes a real sacrifice\nfor her. There never was a victory without sacrifice. Socrates advanced\nthe doctrine of immortality and died with a cup of poisoned hemlock.\nJesus Christ paid with a crown of thorns. Abraham Lincoln paid with a\nbullet in his body. If you mean to give yourself as a sacrifice to God,\nget out and work for him. Ask men to come to him.\n\n[Illustration: \"NO MORE OF YOU OLD DEACONS COMING DOWN THE AISLES\nSTROKING YOUR WHISKERS\"]\n\n\"A holy sacrifice.\" Some men shy at that word \"holy\" like a horse at an\nautomobile. Holy vessels were set apart for use in the worship of God.\nTo be holy is to be set apart for God's use--that's all. To be holy\nisn't to be long-faced and never smile.\n\n\"Acceptable unto the Lord.\" If that were true then this old desert\nwould blossom like Eden. If that were taken as our watchword, what\na stampede of short yardsticks, shrunken measures, light weights,\nadulterated foods, etc., there would be!\n\nWhat a stopping of the hitting up of booze! There would be no more\nliving in sin and keeping somebody on the side, no more of you old\ndeacons coming down the aisles stroking your whiskers and renting your\nbuildings for houses of ill fame, and newspapers would stop carrying\nads for whisky and beer.\n\n[Illustration: \"CLOSE THAT WINDOW, PLEASE.\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"BREAK AWAY FROM THE OLD BUNCH OF THE DAMNED.\"]\n\n\nReasonable Service\n\n\"Your reasonable service.\" God never asks anything unreasonable. He is\nnever exacting. He only asks rights when he asks you to forsake sin. A\nman must be an idiot if he does not see that man is unreasonable when\nunrighteous. God never made a law to govern you that you wouldn't have\nmade if you had known as much as God knows. You don't know that much\nand never can, so the only sensible thing to do is to obey God's laws.\nFaith never asks explanation.\n\nGod asks some things that are hard, but never any that are\nunreasonable. I beseech you, brethren. It was hard for Abraham to take\nhis son up on the mountain and prepare to offer him up as a sacrifice\nto God, but God had a reason. Abraham understands tonight, and Abraham\nis satisfied. It was hard for Joseph to be torn from his own people and\nto be sold into Egypt and to be lied about by that miserable woman,\ntorn from his mother and father, but God had a reason. Joseph knows\ntonight, and Joseph is satisfied. It was hard for Moses to lead the\nJews from Egypt, following the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by\nnight and make that crossing of the Red Sea, only to have God call him\nup to Mount Pisgah and show him the Promised Land and say: \"Moses, you\ncan't go in.\" It was hard, but God had a reason. Moses understands\ntonight, and Moses is satisfied. It was hard for Job to lose his\nchildren and all that he possessed and to be afflicted with boils, and\nto be so miserable that only his wife remained with him. But God had a\nreason. Job understands tonight, and Job is satisfied.\n\nIt was a hard thing God asked of Saul of Tarsus--to bear witness to\nhim at Rome and Ephesus, to face those jeering heathen, to suffer\nimprisonment and be beaten with forty stripes save one, and finally to\nput his head on the block and have it severed by the order of old Nero,\nbut God had a reason. Paul understands tonight, and Paul is satisfied.\nIt was a hard thing God asked of Jesus--to leave the songs of the\nangels and the presence of the redeemed and glorified and come down to\nearth and be born amid the malodors of a stable, and be forced to flee\nfrom post to post, and dispute with the learned doctors in the temple\nat twelve years of age and confute them, and to still the storm and\nthe troubled waters, and to say to the blind, \"Be whole,\" and finally\nto be betrayed by one of his own followers and to be murdered through\na conspiracy of Jews and Gentiles; but now he sits on the throne with\nthe Father, awaiting the time to judge the world. Jesus understands and\nJesus is satisfied.\n\nIt was a hard thing for me when God told me to leave home and go out\ninto the world to preach the gospel and be vilified and libeled and\nhave my life threatened and be denounced, but when my time comes, when\nI have preached my last sermon, and I can go home to God and the Lamb,\nhe'll say, \"Bill, this was the reason.\" I'll know what it all meant,\nand I'll say \"I'm satisfied, God, I'm satisfied.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nA Wonderful Day at a Great University\n\n The higher you climb the plainer you are seen.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nBilly Sunday has had many great days in his life--mountain-top\nexperiences of triumphant service; exalted occasions when it would seem\nthat the climax of his ministry had been reached. Doubtless, though,\nthe greatest day of his crowded life was the thirtieth of March, 1914,\nwhich he spent with the students of the University of Pennsylvania at\nPhiladelphia.\n\nThe interest not alone of a great university but also of a great city\nwas concentrated upon him on this occasion. An imposing group of\ndiscriminating folk took the opportunity to judge the much discussed\nevangelist and his work. In this respect, the day may be said to\nhave proved a turning point in the public career of the evangelist.\nIt silenced much of the widespread criticism which had been directed\ntoward him up to this time; and it won for him the encomiums of a host\nof intellectual leaders.\n\nWhat Sunday's own impressions of that day were may be understood from\nthe prayer he offered at the close of the night meeting.\n\n Oh, Jesus, isn't this a fine bunch? Did you ever look down on a\n finer crowd? I don't believe there is a mother who is any prouder of\n this lot of boys than I am tonight. I have never preached to a more\n appreciative crowd, and if I never preach another sermon, I am willing\n to go home to glory tonight, knowing that I have helped save the boys\n at the University of Pennsylvania. Help them to put aside temptations,\n and to follow in the paths in which Doctor Smith is trying to guide\n their feet.\n\nBack of the visit of the evangelist to the University lies a story,\nand a great principle. The latter is that materialism has no message\nfor the human soul or character. The authorities of the University, in\ncommon with a wide public, had been deeply disturbed over the suicide\nof several students during the winter of 1913-14. Sensational stories,\nlargely unwarranted, in the daily press had reported an epidemic of\nsuicides, due to infidelity.\n\nUnderneath all this \"yellow\" portrayal of conditions lay the truth,\nrealized by nobody more clearly than by the University head, Provost\nEdgar Fahs Smith, that the character of young manhood needs to be\nfortified by spiritual ideals. In his r\u00f4le of religious leader of the\nUniversity, and counselor to the young men, Provost Smith had heard\nconfessions of personal problems which had wrung his soul. None knew\nbetter than he that it takes more than culture to help a man win the\nbattle of life. Looking in every direction for succor in this deepest\nof all problems, the sight of Billy Sunday at Scranton indicated a\npossible ray of hope.\n\nLed by Thomas S. Evans, the secretary of the Christian Association\nof the University, a deputation of student leaders went to Scranton,\nheard the evangelist, and conveyed to him an invitation to spend a day\nwith the University. The call of the need of young men in particular\nis irresistible to Sunday, and he gladly accepted the invitation for a\nday in Philadelphia--going, it may be added parenthetically, entirely\nat his own expense, and insisting that the offering made be devoted to\nUniversity Christian Association work.\n\nThere is a thorough organization of the Christian work of the\nUniversity; so careful plans were laid for the visit of the evangelist.\nThe meetings were made the subject of student prayer groups, and all\nthat forethought could do to secure the smooth running of the day's\nservices was carefully attended to. Students were to be admitted by\ntheir registration cards, and a few hundred other guests, mostly\nministers and persons identified with the University, were given\nspecial admission cards.\n\nThere is no such rush for grand opera tickets in Philadelphia as was\nexperienced for these coveted cards of admission to the Billy Sunday\nmeetings at the University. The noon meeting and the night meetings\nwere exclusively for men, but in the afternoon a few score favored\nwomen were admitted. The result was that in these three services\nthe evangelist talked to representatives of the best life of the\nconservative old city of Philadelphia. He never before had faced so\nmuch concentrated culture as was represented that day within the walls\nof the great gymnasium.\n\nThis improvised auditorium could be made to hold about three thousand\npersons, especially when the hearers were students, and skilful in\ncrowding and utilizing every inch of space, such as window sills and\nrafters. The line of ticket holders that gathered before the opening\nof the doors itself preached a sermon to the whole city. As one of the\nPhiladelphia newspapers remarked, in the title it gave to a section\nof its whole page of Billy Sunday pictures, \"Wouldn't think they\nwere striving for admittance to a religious service, would you?\" The\nnewspapers, by pen and camera, chronicled this Billy Sunday day at the\nUniversity as the city's most important news for that issue.\n\nThe evangelist's chorister, Homer Rodeheaver, led the introductory\nservice of music. He set the college boys to singing and whistling\nfamiliar gospel hymns, and Mrs. De Armond's \"If Your Heart Keeps\nRight\"--a refrain which was heard for many weeks afterward in\nUniversity corridors and campus.\n\nFrom the first the students, than whom there are no more critical\nhearers alive, were won by Billy Sunday. Provost Smith, who has the\nmen's hearts, introduced him in this happy fashion:\n\n\"Billy Sunday is a friend of men. He is a friend of yours and a friend\nof mine, and that's why we are glad to have him here today to tell us\nabout his other friend, Jesus Christ. His is the spirit of friendship,\nand we are glad to extend to him our fellowship while we have the\nopportunity.\"\n\nThe three addresses given on that day were \"What Shall I Do with\nJesus?\" \"Real Manhood,\" and \"Hot-cakes off the Griddle.\"\n\nThese fragments of the three addresses culled from the newspaper\nreports give the flavor of the messages heard by the students:\n\n\"What shall I do with Jesus?\"\n\n\"This question is just as pertinent to the world today as it was to\nPilate,\" he said. \"Pilate had many things to encourage and discourage\nhim, but no man ever sought to do anything without meeting difficulties.\n\n\"Pilate should have been influenced by his wife's dream,\" the speaker\ncontinued, whimsically suggesting that he didn't care what sort of\nwife Pilate had. \"She may have been one of those miserable, pliable,\nplastic, two-faced, two-by-four, lick-spittle, toot-my-own-horn sort of\nwomen, but Pilate should have heeded her warning and set Jesus free,\"\nhe asserted.\n\n\"Pilate had the personality of Jesus before him and should have been\ninfluenced by this. He had also heard of the miracles of Jesus, even if\nhe had never seen them.\n\n\"Why, Jesus was cussed and discussed from one end of the land to the\nother. All he had to do was to say 'Come forth,' and the graves opened\nlike chestnut burrs in the fall,\" he added.\n\n\"I have no use for the fellow that sneers and mocks at Jesus Christ. If\nthe world is against Christ, I am against the world, with every tooth,\nnail, bit of skin, hair follicle, muscular molecule, articulation\njoint\"--here the evangelist paused for breath before adding--\"yes, and\neven my vermiform appendix.\n\n\"But Pilate was just one of those rat-hole, pin-headed, pliable,\nstandpat, free-lunch, pie-counter politicians. He was the direct result\nof the machine gang in Jewish politics, and he was afraid that if he\nreleased Christ he would lose his job.\n\n\"Say, boys,\" he demanded, leaning so far over the platform it seemed\nhe must have fallen, \"are you fellows willing to slap Jesus Christ in\nthe face in order to have some one come up and slap you on the back and\nsay you are a good fellow and a dead-game sport? That is the surest\nway to lose out in life. I am giving you the experience of a life that\nknows.\n\n\"Pilate had his chance and he missed it. His name rings down through\nthe ages in scorn and contempt because he had not the courage to stand\nup for his convictions and Jesus Christ. Aren't you boys doing the same\nthing? You are convinced that Jesus Christ is the son of God, but you\nare afraid of the horse-laugh the boys will give you.\n\n\"God will have nothing to do with you unless you are willing to keep\nclean,\" he said. \"Some people think they are not good enough to go to\nheaven and not bad enough to go to hell, and that God is too good to\nsend them to hell, so they fix up a little religion of their own. God\nisn't keeping any half-way house for any one. The man who believes in\nthat will change his theology before he has been in hell five minutes.\n\n\"There's just one enemy that keeps every one from accepting Christ, and\nthat is your stubborn, miserable will power. You are not men enough to\ncome clean for Jesus.\n\n\"I don't care whether you have brains enough to fill a hogshead or\nlittle enough to fill a thimble, you are up against this proposition:\nYou must begin to measure Christ by the rules of God instead of the\nrules of men. Put him in the God class instead of in the man class;\njudge Christ by his task and the work he performed, and see if he was\nonly a man.\"\n\nThe University of Pennsylvania would be turning out bigger men\nthan Jesus Christ, he said, if Christ were not the son of God. The\nconditions and the opportunities are so much greater in these days,\nhe showed, that a real superman should be the product of our day if\neducation, society, business, politics and these varied interests could\nproduce such a thing.\n\n\"Jesus Christ is just as well known today as old Cleopatra, the\nflat-nosed enchantress of the Nile, was known hundreds and hundreds of\nyears ago.\n\n\"Don't swell up like a poisoned pup and say that 'it doesn't meet with\nmy stupendous intellectual conception of what God intended should be\nunderstood.' God should have waited until you were born and then called\nyou into counsel, I suppose. Say, fellows, I don't like to think that\nthere are any four-flushing, excess-baggage, lackadaisical fools like\nthat alive today, but there are a few.\n\n\"On the square, now, if you want to find a man of reason, would you go\ndown in the red-light district, where women are selling their honor\nfor money, or through the beer halls or fan-tan joints? You don't find\nintellect there,\" he continued.\n\nIn contrast to these places, the evangelist described with remarkable\naccuracy and emotion the scenes surrounding the death of President\nMcKinley and the burial ceremony at Canton, Ohio; how the great men\nof the nation, all Christian men, passed by the flag-covered casket\nand paid their silent tribute to the man who had died with Christian\nconfidence expressed in his last words.\n\n\"When I came out of that court-house at Canton, I said: 'Thank God, I'm\nin good company, for the greatest men of my nation are on the side of\nJesus Christ,'\" he added. From the farthest corner of the auditorium\nthere came a fervent \"Amen,\" which found many repetitions in the brief\nsilence that followed.\n\nMr. Sunday reached a powerful climax when he described the\npossibilities of the Judgment Day, and the efforts of the evil one to\nlead into the dark, abysmal depths souls of men who have been popular\nin the world. To those who have accepted Christ, the Saviour will\nappear on that day as an advocate at the heavenly throne, he argued,\nand the saved ones can turn to the devil and say:\n\n[Illustration: BILLY SUNDAY AND HIS FAMILY AT HOME, MOUNT HOOD, WINONA\nLAKE, INDIANA.]\n\n\"'Beat it, you old skin-flint. I have you skinned to a frazzle.\nI have taken Jesus Christ and he's going to stand by me through all\neternity.'\n\n\"Wherein does Jesus Christ fail to come up to your standard and the\nhighest conception of the greatest God-like spirit? Show me one flaw\nin his character. I challenge any infidel on earth to make good his\nclaims that Christ was an ordinary man. The name of Jesus Christ, the\nson of God, is greater than any. It is the name that unhorsed Saul of\nTarsus, and it is holding 500,000,000 of people by its majestic spell\nand enduring power.\n\n\"If you can't understand what this means, just take a walk out into\nsome cemetery some day and look at the tombstones. You'll find that\nthe name of the man who had a political drag twenty-five years ago is\nabsolutely forgotten,\" continued the challenge.\n\n\"Do you fellows know what sacrifice means?\" suddenly asked the speaker.\n\"Some of your fathers are making sacrifices and wearing old clothes\njust to keep you here in school. He wants you to have an education\nbecause he can't even handle the multiplication table.\n\n\"If Jesus Christ should enter this gymnasium we would all fall to our\nknees. We have that much reverence in our hearts for him. I would run\ndown and meet him, and would tell him how much I love him and that I am\nwilling to go wherever he would have me go.\"\n\nIn closing, the evangelist told the story of a man who recklessly\ntossed a valuable pearl high into the air, reaching over the side of\na ship to catch it as it fell. Time and again he was successful, but\nfinally the ship swerved to one side and the gem disappeared beneath\nthe waves.\n\n\"Boys, that man lost everything just to gain the plaudits of the crowd.\nAre you doing the same thing?\n\n\"That is the condition of thousands of people beneath the Stars and\nStripes today--losing everything just to hear the clamor of the people,\nand get a little pat on the back for doing something the mob likes.\"\n\nMr. Sunday suddenly abandoned his dramatic attitude, and lowered his\nvoice. There was an instantaneous bowing of heads, although he had\ngiven no suggestion of a prayer. It seemed proper at that time, and one\nof the evangelist's heart-to-heart talks with Christ, asking a blessing\non the Christian workers of the University, and an earnest effort, on\nthe part of every student, to live a Christian life, accompanied the\ngreat audience as it filed from the gymnasium.\n\n\nReal Manhood\n\n\"Be thou strong, therefore, and show thyself a man,\" the Bible verse\nreads, and Mr. Sunday promptly added: \"Don't be a mutt! Don't be a\nfour-flusher--a mere cipher on the sea of human enterprise.\n\n\"God is a respecter of character, even if he isn't a respecter of\npersons,\" continued the speaker. \"Abraham towers out, like a mountain\nabove a molehill, and beside him some of our modern gimlet-eyed,\nheel-worn fellows shrink like Edward Hyde in Doctor Jekyll's clothes.\n\n\"When those fellows over in Babylon offered booze to Daniel, although\nhe was only seventeen years old, he said, 'Nothing doing.' He told\nthem where to head in. Moses pushed aside the greatest scepter of any\nkingdom and did what his heart told him was right. 'Be thou strong and\nshow thyself a man.'\n\n\"David was a man of lofty purposes and his life was influenced by those\nthat had preceded him. It wasn't an accident that made David a king.\nThe big job is always looking for big men. A round peg will not fit\ninto a square hole, even if he is a university professor.\n\n\"The young buck who inherits a big fortune without working for it,\"\ncontinued Mr. Sunday, \"is going down the line so fast you can't see\nhim for the fog. The man who has real, rich, red blood in his veins,\ninstead of pink tea and ice water, when the lions of opposition roar,\nthinks it is only a call for dinner in the dining car, and he goes\nahead and does things.\n\n\"There are some going around disguised as men who ought to be\narrested,\" the evangelist interposed. \"To know some men is an\ninvitation to do right; to know others is an invitation to know dirty\nbooze and to blot the family escutcheon, insult your mothers and\nsisters. The size of the man depends on his mind, not on his muscle.\nThere is lots of bulk but little brains in some men.\n\n\"It's a sad day for a young man when Bill Taft's overcoat wouldn't make\nhim a vest,\" he added, amid shouts of laughter, in which even staid,\nstern-faced professors joined with the students.\n\n\"Too many fellows look like men from across the street, but when you\nget close to them they shrivel up.\n\n\"It makes a difference what kind of an example you follow. If Thomas\nEdison should say to his boy, 'Be an inventor,' the boy would know what\nhe meant, but if some red-nosed, beer-soaked old reprobate should tell\nhis boy to 'be a man,' the boy would be all in. Lots of fellows today\nturn out bad because their fathers' talk and walk do not agree.\n\n\"The best thing that can happen to a young man,\" said Mr. Sunday,\n\"is to come under the influence of a real man. Every one has a hero,\nwhether it be on the foot-ball field or in the classroom, and if every\none would lead right today, there would be no going astray tomorrow.\n\n\"There are some men in this world that when they are around you turn\nup your collar, feel chills running up and down your back and when you\nlook at the thermometer, you find the temperature is about 60 degrees\nbelow zero.\"\n\nThen followed the evangelist's famous story of how David killed\nGoliath, considerably tempered to suit the culture of his audience. He\ntold how David boldly asked who the \"big lobster was,\" and why he was\n\"strutting around as if he was the whole cheese, the head guy of the\nopposition party.\n\n\"David put down the sword that Saul had given him, for he felt like a\nfellow in a hand-me-down suit two sizes too large. He picked up one of\nhis little pebbles, slung it across the river and hit poor old Goliath\non the koko.\"\n\n\"Some fellows are working so hard to become angels they forget to be\nmen. If you will study your Bible you will find that the men of old\nwere subject to the same temptations as the men of today, but they\ndidn't let their temptations get the best of them.\n\n\"If your manhood is buried in doubt and cheap booze, dig it out. You\nhave to sign your own Declaration of Independence and fight your own\nRevolutionary wars before you can celebrate the Fourth of July over the\nthings that try to keep you down.\n\n\"The best time for a man to sow his wild oats is between the age of\neighty-five and ninety years. A six-ply drunk is about as good a\npassport into commercial life as a record for housebreaking, and the\nyouth who goes to the mat with a half-pint of red-eye in his stomach,\nwill be as beneficial to humanity as a one-legged man in a hurdle race.\"\n\n\"If I knew, when the undertaker pumps that pink stuff into me and\nembalms me, that the end of all had come, I would still be glad I lived\na Christian life, because it meant a life of decency,\" he said. \"I\nwould rather go through the world without knowing the multiplication\ntable than never to know the love of Christ. I don't underestimate the\nvalue of an education, boys, but just try living on oatmeal porridge.\nGet your education, but don't lose sight of Jesus.\"\n\n\"Once you have made your plan, cling to it. Be a man, even in\nsituations of great danger. The man whose diet is swill will be at home\nwith the hogs in any pen. He's bound to have bristles sticking through\nhis skin. If Abraham Lincoln had read about Alkali Ike, or Three\nFingered Pete, do you think he would ever have been President? While\nother young men were waking up with booze-headaches, he was pulling up\nhis old-fashioned galluses and saying, 'I'm going to be a man.'\n\n\"And one morning the world awoke, rubbed its sleepy eyes and looked\naround for a man for a certain place. It found Abraham Lincoln and\nraised him from obscurity to the highest pinnacle of popular favor. He\nwas a man and his example should be a guiding influence in the life of\nevery American citizen.\"\n\nBooze, evil women, licentious practices, cigarettes--all these came\nunder the ban of Mr. Sunday's system of Christian living. He spared no\nwords; he called a spade a spade and looked at modern affairs without\ncolored glasses.\n\n\"You can't find a drunkard who ever intended to be a drunkard,\" argued\nMr. Sunday. \"He just intended to be a moderate drinker. He was up\nagainst a hard game, a game you can't beat.\"\n\nHe asserted that he could get more nourishment from a little bit of\nbeef extract, placed on the edge of a knife blade, than can be obtained\nfrom 800 gallons of the best beer brewed.\n\nTalking about riches, he suggested that King Solomon, with his wealth,\ncould have hired Andrew Carnegie as a chauffeur or J. Pierpont Morgan\nto cut the lawns around his palace. \"Money isn't all there is in this\nworld, but neither is beer,\" he said. \"I don't want to see you students\nget the booze habit, just because we are licensing men at so much per\nyear to make you staggering, reeling, drunken sots, murderers, thieves\nand vagabonds.\"\n\nThe double standard of living was bitterly attacked by the revivalist,\nwho said one of the crying needs of America was the recognition of a\nsingle standard of living.\n\n\"It makes no difference to God whether the sinner wears a plug hat\nand pair of suspenders or a petticoat and a willow plume. No man who\ndeliberately drugs a girl and sends her into a life of shame ought to\nbe permitted in good society. He ought to be shot at sunrise.\" This\nsentiment evoked a tremendous round of applause, and cries of \"Amen!\"\nand \"Good, Bill!\" were not infrequent.\n\n\"The avenging God is on his trail and the man who wrecks women's lives\nis going to crack brimstone on the hottest stone in hell, praise God,\"\nthe speaker continued. \"If we are to conciliate this unthinkable and\nunspeakable practice of vampires feeding on women's virtue, we might as\nwell back-pedal in the progress of the nations. The virtue of womanhood\nis the rampart of our civilization and we must not let it be betrayed.\"\n\nWhen the invitation was given after the night meeting, for men\nwho wanted to dedicate themselves to cleaner, nobler manhood to\nrise, nearly the entire body, visibly moved by the words of the\npreacher, rose to its feet. Then, with a daring which prim and\nconservative Philadelphia had not thought possible in this citadel\nof intellectuality and conventionality, Sunday gave the invitation\nto the students who would begin a new life by confessing Christ to\ncome forward. Accounts vary as to the number who went up and grasped\nthe evangelist's hand. All reporters seemed to be carried away by the\nthrill of the occasion. Many reported that hundreds went forward. The\nmost conservative report was that 175 young men took this open stand of\nconfession of Jesus Christ.\n\nThe University weekly, _Old Penn_, in its issue of the following\nSaturday summarized the Billy Sunday visit in pages of contributions.\nThese three paragraphs are the sober judgment of those best informed\nfrom the University standpoint:\n\n The results of Mr. Sunday's visit within the University have\n been nothing short of marvelous. The Provost has been receiving\n congratulations from trustees, business men, lawyers, members of the\n faculty and prominent undergraduates. Several whole fraternities have\n taken action leading to higher living in every line. Drink has been\n completely excluded from class banquets. Students are joining the\n churches, and religion has been the paramount topic of conversation\n throughout the entire University.\n\n Under the leadership of the University Christian Association,\n the church leaders of Philadelphia of all denominations have been\n canvassing their own students in the University and have found most\n hearty response to everything that has to do with good living. The\n effect is really that of a religious crusade, and the result is of\n that permanent sort which expresses itself in righteousness of life.\n At the close of the night meeting on Monday, about 1,000 students\n arose to their feet in answer to Mr. Sunday's invitation to live the\n Christian life in earnest, or to join for the first time the Christian\n way of life. Those who have called upon the students who took this\n stand have found that it was genuine, and not in any sense due to a\n mere emotional movement. Mr. Sunday's appeal seems to be almost wholly\n to the will and conscience, but it is entirely based upon the movement\n of the Holy Spirit of God.\n\n No one who has ever addressed the students of the University of\n Pennsylvania on vital religion has ever approached the success which\n was attained by Mr. Sunday in reaching the students, and without doubt\n this visit is only the opening up of a marvelous opportunity for Mr.\n Sunday to reach the students of the entire country, especially those\n of our great cosmopolitan universities.\n\nThe editor of _Old Penn_ asked opinions from members of the faculty and\nundergraduate body. Dean Edward C. Kirk, M.D., D.D.S., of the Dental\nDepartment, said in his appraisal of the Sunday visit:\n\n If, as according to some of the critics, the impression that he has\n made is but temporary and the enthusiasm which he has created is only\n a momentary impulse, even so, the success of his accomplishment lies\n in the fact that he has produced results where others have failed to\n make a beginning. The University ought to have the uplifting force not\n only of a Billy Sunday, but a Billy Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and\n every other day in the week.\n\nOf the students who testified in print, one, a prominent senior, wrote:\n\n\n Mr. Sunday awoke in me a realization of my evil practices and sins\n so forcefully that I am going to make a determined effort to give\n them up and to make amends for the past. From my many conversations\n with fellow-students I find that this is what Mr. Sunday did. If he\n did not directly cause the student to come forward and take a stand,\n every student at least was aroused to think about this all-important\n question in a light that he had not seriously considered it in before.\n The undergraduate body, as a whole, is glad that Mr. Sunday came to\n Philadelphia.\n\nA Christian worker from the Law School gave his opinion as follows:\n\n I have been connected with the University of Pennsylvania for six\n years, and for the greater part of this time have been in close\n touch with the work of the Christian Association. The influence of\n the Association seems to be increasing constantly, but Billy Sunday\n accomplished in one day what the Association would be proud to have\n accomplished in one year. To my mind, Mr. Sunday's visit marks the\n beginning of a new epoch--the Renaissance of religious work of the\n University.\n\nThat is the sort of thing that occupied pages of the official\npublication of the University, following the evangelist's visit. This\nday's work attracted the attention not only of Philadelphia newspapers,\nbut the religious press throughout the country quite generally\ncommented upon it. Dr. Mosley H. Williams graphically reviewed it in\nthe _Congregationalist_.\n\n The University of Pennsylvania, founded by Benjamin Franklin in 1749,\n is the fourth in age of American universities, antedated only by\n Harvard, Yale, and Princeton by one year. It is located in a city of\n a million and three-quarters people. It now enrolls 6,632 students,\n representing every state in the Union, and fifty-nine foreign\n countries. There are 250 from Europe and Asia, and 150 from Latin\n America; so that in the cosmopolitanism of its make-up, probably no\n American university equals it. Its Young Men's Christian Association\n employs twenty-seven secretaries, its Bible classes on week days\n gather 650 students, and every Fraternity House has its own Bible\n Class. But attendance upon daily prayers is not obligatory, and less\n than a hundred, on an average, are seen at those services.\n\n Into this cosmopolitan University Billy Sunday came like a cyclone.\n After preaching in Scranton three times on the Sabbath, to audiences\n aggregating 30,000 people, he traveled all night, reached Philadelphia\n Monday morning, took an automobile spin to the baseball park, where he\n was a famous player twenty years ago, and preached three times in the\n University of Pennsylvania gymnasium, which was seated with chairs,\n and accommodated 3,000 hearers.\n\n There were three services--noon, afternoon and evening. Tickets were\n issued, red, white and blue, each good for one service, and that one\n exclusively. Not a person was admitted without a ticket. The long\n lines reached squares away, and the police kept the people moving in\n order.\n\n What does such a spectacle mean in a great old university, in a great\n city? Such a student body knows slang, and athleticism, and all sorts\n of side plays. No doubt there was plenty of criticism and questioning;\n but a spectator who had his eyes and ears and mind open, would say,\n that in getting a response to the religious appeal, Billy Sunday's\n Monday in the University of Pennsylvania scored high.\n\n This effort for quickening religious interests in the University was\n not a spasmodic effort for one day; there had been the most careful\n preparations beforehand, in consultation with leading ministers of all\n denominations in the city, to seek out students of every denomination.\n Lists were carefully made and cards put in the hands of ministers and\n Christian workers, with the understanding that all the young men of\n the University should be visited in a friendly and Christian spirit by\n representatives of various churches. The results, of course, remain to\n be seen, but after this effort, no student need say, \"No man cares for\n my soul.\"\n\nThe conclusion of the whole matter, of course, is that the old-time\nreligion, the gospel of our fathers and our mothers, is still the\ndeepest need of all sorts and conditions of men. The religion that\nsaved the outcast in the gutter is adequate to redeem the man in the\nuniversity.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nThe Christian's Daily Helper\n\n Too much of the work of the Church today is like a squirrel in a\n cage--lots of activity, but no progress.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nIn the course of one of his campaigns, Sunday sweeps the arc of the\ngreat Christian doctrines. While he stresses ever and again the\npractical duties of the Christian life, yet he makes clear that the\nreliance of the Christian for all that he hopes to attain in character\nand in service is upon the promised Helper sent by our Lord, the\never-present Holy Spirit. One of the evangelist's greatest sermons is\nupon this theme, and no transcript of his essential message would be\ncomplete without it.\n\n\n\"THE HOLY SPIRIT\"\n\nThe personality, the divinity and the attributes of the Holy Ghost\nafford one of the most inspiring, one of the most beneficial examples\nin our spiritual life. We are told that when the Holy Spirit came at\nPentecost, he came as the rushing of a mighty wind and overurging\nexpectancy. When Jesus was baptized in the River Jordan, of John, out\nfrom the expanse of heaven was seen to float the Spirit of God like a\nsnowflake, and they heard a sound as of whirring wings, and the Holy\nSpirit in the form of a dove hovered over the dripping locks of Christ.\nNeither your eyes nor mine will ever behold such a scene; neither will\nour ears ever hear such a sound again. You cannot dissect or weigh the\nHoly Spirit, nor analyze him as a chemist may analyze material matter\nin his laboratory, but we can all feel the pulsing of the breath of his\neternal love.\n\nThe Holy Spirit is a personality; as much a personality as Christ, or\nyou or I. \"Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will\nguide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself.\" He is to\nus what Jesus was when he was on earth. Jesus always speaks of the Holy\nSpirit in the future tense. He said, \"It is expedient that I go away;\nif I go not away the Spirit will not come. It is expedient for you that\nI go away, but when I am gone, then I will send Him unto you who is\nfrom the Father.\" So we are living today in the beneficence of the Holy\nSpirit.\n\n\nNo Universal Salvation\n\nI do not believe in this twentieth-century theory of the universal\nfatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. We are all made of one\nblood--that is true, physically speaking; we are all related. I am\ntalking about the spiritual, not the physical. You are not a child of\nGod unless you are a Christian; then you are a child of God--if you are\na Christian.\n\nSamson with the Holy Spirit upon him could take the jawbone of an ass\nand lay dead a thousand Philistines. Samson without the Holy Spirit was\nas weak as a new-born babe, and they poked his eyes out and cut off his\nlocks. And so with the Church and her members. Without the Holy Spirit\nyou are as sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, simply four walls and\na roof, and a pipe organ and a preacher to do a little stunt on Sunday\nmorning and evening. I tell you, Christian people, that with the Holy\nSpirit there is no power on earth or in hell that can stand before the\nChurch of Jesus Christ. And the damnable, hell-born, whisky-soaked,\nhog-jowled, rum-soaked moral assassins have damned this community long\nenough. Now it is time it was broken up and it is time to do something.\n\nThere are three classes in the Church, as I have looked at it from my\nstandpoint. The first are those in the Church personally who want to be\nsaved, but they are not concerned about other people. They do not give\nany help to other people; they don't lie awake at night praying for\nother people that they may be brought to the Lord.\n\nThe second class are going to depend upon human wisdom. There is no\nsuch thing as latent power, expressed or implied--power is just as\ndistinctive in an individual as the electricity in these lights. If\nthese globes are without a current they would be nothing but glass\nbulbs, fit for nothing but the scrap heap. Without the Holy Spirit you\nare as sounding brass and tinkling cymbals, and a third-rate amusement\nparlor, with religion left out.\n\nThe third class are church members not from might and honor and power,\nbut from the Spirit.\n\nWhile at Pentecost one sermon saved 3,000 people, now it takes 3,000\nsermons to get one old buttermilk-eyed, whisky-soaked blasphemer.\n\n\nHappiest Nation on Earth\n\nWe have our churches, our joss houses, our tabernacles; we have got the\nwisdom of the orientals, the ginger, vim, tabasco sauce, peppering of\nthe twentieth century; we have got all of that, and I do not believe\nthat there are any people beneath the sun who are better fed, better\npaid, better clothed, better housed, or any happier than we are beneath\nthe stars and stripes--no nation on earth. There are lots of things\nthat could be eliminated to make us better than we are today. We are\nthe happiest people in God's world.\n\nOut in Iowa, a fellow said to me: \"Mr. Sunday, we ought to be better\norganized.\" Just think of that, we ought to be better organized. Now\nlisten to me, my friends! Listen to me! There is so much machinery in\nthe churches today that you can hear it squeak.\n\nDrop into a young people's meeting. The leader will say in a weak,\neffeminate, apologetic, minor sort of way, that there was a splendid\ntopic this evening but he had not had much time for preparation. It\nis superfluous for him to say that; you could have told that. He goes\nalong and tells how happy he is to have you there to take part this\nevening, making this meeting interesting. Some one gets up and reads\na poem from the _Christian Endeavor World_ and then they sing No. 38.\nThey get up and sing:\n\n    \"Oh, to be nothing--nothing,\n    Only to lie at His feet.\"\n\nWe used to sing that song, but I found out that people took it so\nliterally that I cut it out.\n\nThen a long pause, and some one says, \"Let us sing No. 52.\" So they get\nup and then some one starts,\n\n    \"Throw out the life line,\n    Throw out the life line.\"\n\nThey haven't got strength enough to put up a clothesline. Another long\npause, and then you hear, \"Have all taken part that feel free to do so?\nWe have a few minutes left. So let us sing No. 23.\" Then another long\npause. \"I hear the organ prelude; it is time for us to close, now let\nus all repeat together, 'The Lord keep watch between me and thee, while\nwe are absent one from another.'\"\n\nI tell you God has got a hard job on his hands. Ever hear anything like\nthat?\n\n\nAmbassadors of God\n\nBelieve that God Almighty can do something. Don't whine around as\nthough God were a corpse, ready for the undertaker. God is still on\nthe job. The Holy Spirit is needed to bring man into spiritual touch\nwith God; to make man realize that he is a joint representative\nof God on earth today. Do you ever realize that you are God's\nrepresentative--God's ambassador?\n\nAnd as we are God's ambassadors why should we fear what the devil may\ndo? Can it be that you fail to realize his power? Or are you so blind\nto the spiritual that you can't see that you need God's help? Let me\nask you one question: Are you ready to surrender to him? A man said\nto me: \"It was a mighty little thing to drive Adam and Eve out of the\nGarden of Eden because they ate an apple.\" It wasn't the fruit. It was\nthe principle, whether man should bow to God or God bow to man. That\nact was an act of disobedience. You may say it was a mighty little\nthing for England to go to war with us because we threw some tea into\nBoston harbor. We didn't go to war over the tea. We said: \"You can't\nbrew tea in the East India Company and pour it down our throats.\" It\nwas the principle we went to war about, not the price of tea, and we\nfought it out. Are you ready to surrender? You, who are in rebellion\nagainst God? You, who are in rebellion against the authority of God's\ngovernment? Are you ready to do his will?\n\nA good many people suppose that when they have accepted Jesus Christ\nas their Saviour and joined the Church that is all there is to the\nChristian life. As well might a student who has just matriculated\nimagine that he has finished his education. Nobody has reached a stage\nin the Christian life from which he cannot go further unless he is\nin the coffin--and then it's all over. To accept Christ, to join the\nChurch, is only to begin. It is the starting of the race, not the\nreaching of the goal. There are constant and increasing blessings if\nyou are willing to pay the price.\n\nI don't care when or where you became a church member, if the\nComforter, who is the Holy Ghost, is not with you, you are a failure.\n\nThis power of the Spirit is meant for all who are Christians. It is a\ngreat blessing for the Presbyterian elder as well as for the preacher.\nI know some Methodist stewards who need it. Deacons would \"deak\" better\nif they had it. It is a great blessing for the deacon and the members\nof the prudential committee, and it is just as great a blessing for the\nman in the pew who holds no office. To hear some people talk you would\nthink that the Holy Spirit is only for preachers. God sets no double\nstandard for the Christian life. There's nothing in the Bible to show\nthat the people may live differently from the man in the pulpit.\n\n\nHoly Spirit a Person\n\nI once heard a doctor of divinity pray for the Holy Spirit, and he\nsaid: \"Send it upon us now.\" He was wrong, doubly wrong. The Holy\nSpirit is not an impersonal thing. He is a person, not an \"it.\" And the\nHoly Spirit has always been here since the days of Pentecost. He does\nnot come and go. He is right here in the world and his power is at the\ncommand of all who will put themselves into position to use it.\n\nA university professor was greeted by a friend of mine who took him\nby the hand, and said: \"What do you think of the Holy Spirit?\" The\nprofessor answered that he regarded the Holy Spirit as an influence for\ngood, a sort of emanation from God. My friend talked to him and tried\nto show him his mistake, and a few months later he met him again. \"What\ndo you think of the Holy Spirit now?\" he asked. The professor answered:\n\"Well, I know that the Holy Spirit is a person. Since I talked with\nyou and have come to that conviction, I have succeeded in bringing\nsixty-three students to Christ.\"\n\nA great many people think the Holy Spirit comes and goes again, and\nquote from the Acts, where it says that Peter was filled with the Holy\nSpirit. Well, if you will find that Peter had been doing things right\nalong, that showed he had been filled with the Holy Spirit all the\ntime. Acts, second chapter and fourth verse, we read: \"And they were\nall filled with the Holy Spirit.\" You have no right, nor have I, to\nsay that the Holy Spirit ever left any one. We have no right to seek\nto find Scripture to bolster up some little theory of our own. We must\ntake the Word of God for it, just as we find it written there. Now, at\nPentecost, Peter had said: \"Repent, and be baptized for the remission\nof sins.\" Then he promised them that the Holy Spirit would come and\nfill them. Now we have the fulfilment of the promise.\n\nWho were filled with the Holy Spirit? Peter and James and John? No--the\npeople. That is the record of the filling with the Holy Spirit of the\nthree thousand who were converted at Pentecost, not the filling of\nPeter and James and John.\n\nIf the Spirit remains forever, why doesn't his power always show\nitself? Why haven't you as much power with God as the one hundred and\ntwenty had at Pentecost? There are too many frauds, too much trash in\nthe Church. It is because the people are not true to God. They are\ndisobeying him. They are not right with him yet.\n\nI don't know just how the Holy Spirit will come, but Jesus said we\nshould do even greater works than he did. What are you doing? You are\nnot doing such works now.\n\n\nThe Last Dispensation\n\nWe find the Holy Spirit in the Old Testament. When the prophets spoke\nthey were moved by him. God seems to have spoken to man in three\ndistinct dispensations. Once it was through the covenant with Abraham,\nthen it was through Moses and under the Mosaic dispensation, and\nfinally it is through his own son, Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ came\ninto the world, proved that he is the Son of God, suffered, died and\nwas buried, rose again, and sent his Holy Comforter. This is the last\ndispensation. There is no evidence that after the Holy Spirit once\ncame, he ever left the world. He is here now, ready to help you to\novercome your pride, and your diffidence that has kept you from doing\npersonal work, and is willing and ready to lead you into a closer\nrelationship with Jesus.\n\nBut you say, some are elected and some are not. On that point I agree\nwith Henry Ward Beecher. He said: \"The elect are those who will and the\nnon-elect are those who won't.\"\n\nBut you go in for culture--\"culchah.\" If you are too cultured to be\na Christian, God pity you. You may call it culture. I have another\nname for it. Is there anything about Christianity that is necessarily\nuncultured? I think the best culture in the world is among the\nfollowers of Jesus Christ.\n\nBut you say: \"Ignorance is a bar to some.\" No sir. Billy Bray, the\nCornish miner, was an illiterate man. He was asked if he could read\nwriting, and he answered: \"No, I can't even read readin'.\" Yet Billy\nBray did a wonderful work for God in Wales and England. Ignorance is\nno bar to religion, or to usefulness for Jesus.\n\nSome time ago, over in England, a man died in the poor house. He had\nhad a little property, just a few acres of land, and it hadn't been\nenough to support him. After he died the new owner dug a well on it,\nand at a depth of sixty-five feet he found a vein of copper so rich\nthat it meant a little fortune. If the man who died had only known of\nthat vein, he need not have lived in poverty. There are many who are\njust as ignorant of the great riches within their reach. Lots of people\nhold checks on the bank of heaven, and haven't faith enough to present\nthem at the window to have them cashed.\n\n\n\"Little Things\"\n\nYou may say, \"I have failed in something, but it is a little thing.\"\nOh, these little things! Bugs are little things, but they cost this\ncountry $800,000,000 in one year. Birds are little enemies of the bugs,\nand birds are little things, and if it weren't for the birds we would\nstarve in two years. If there's anything that makes me mad it is to see\na farmer grab a shotgun and kill a chicken hawk. That hawk is worth a\nlot more than some old hen you couldn't cook tender if you boiled it\nfor two days. That chicken hawk has killed all the gophers, mice and\nsnakes it could get its claws on and it has come to demand from the\nfarmer the toll that is rightfully due to it, for what it has done to\nrid the land of pests.\n\nWhy is it that with all our universities and colleges we haven't\nproduced a book like the Bible? It was written long ago by people who\nlived in a little country no bigger than some of our states. The reason\nwas that God was behind the writers. The book was inspired.\n\nWhen good old Dr. Backus, of Hamilton College, lay dying the doctor\nwhispered to Mrs. Backus, saying, \"Dr. Backus is dying.\" The old\nman heard and looked up with a smile on his face and asked: \"Did I\nunderstand you to say that I am dying?\"\n\nSadly the doctor said: \"Yes, I'm sorry, you have no more than half an\nhour to live.\"\n\nDr. Backus smiled again. \"Then it will soon be over,\" he said. \"Take\nme out of bed and put me on my knees. I want to die praying for the\nstudents of Hamilton College.\" They lifted him out and he knelt down\nand covered his face with his transparent hands, and prayed \"Oh, God,\nsave the students of Hamilton College.\"\n\nFor a time he continued to pray, then the doctor said, \"He is getting\nweaker.\" They lifted him back upon the bed, and his face was whiter\nthan the pillows. Still his lips moved. \"Oh, God, save----\" Then the\nlight of life went out, and he finished the prayer in the presence of\nJesus. What did his dying prayer do? Why, almost the entire student\nbody of Hamilton College accepted Jesus Christ.\n\nIf you haven't the power of the Spirit you have done something wrong. I\ndon't know what it is--it's none of my business. It's between you and\nGod. It is only my duty to call upon you to confess and get right with\nhim.\n\nA man went to a friend of mine and said: \"I don't know what is wrong\nwith me. I teach a Sunday-school class of young men, and I have tried\nto bring them to Jesus, and I have failed. Can you tell me why?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" was the answer. \"There's something wrong with you. You've done\nsomething wrong.\"\n\nThe man hesitated, but finally he said, \"You're right. Years ago I was\ncashier in a big business house, and one time the books balanced and\nthere was some money left over. I took that money and I have kept it.\nThat was twelve years ago. Here is the money in this envelope.\"\n\n\"Take it back to the owner,\" said my friend. \"It's not yours, and it's\nnot mine.\"\n\n\"But I can't do that,\" said the man. \"I am making a salary of $22,000\na year now, and I have a wife and daughters, and my firm will never\nemploy a dishonest man.\"\n\n\"Well, that's your business,\" said my friend. \"I have advised you, and\nthat's all I can do; but God will never forgive you until you've given\nthat money back.\"\n\nThe man sank into a chair and covered his eyes for a while. Then he got\nup and said, \"I'll do it.\" He took a Chesapeake and Ohio train and went\nto Philadelphia, and went to a great merchant prince in whose employ he\nhad been, and told his story. The merchant prince shut and locked the\ndoor. \"Let us pray,\" he said. They knelt together, the great merchant's\narm about his visitor; and when they got up the great merchant said:\n\"Go in peace. God bless you.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"I'VE WALKED SIXTY MILES TO LOOK UPON HER FACE AGAIN\"]\n\nOn the next Sunday the man who had confessed took the Bible on his\nknee as he sat before his class and said to them: \"Young men, I often\nwondered why I couldn't win any of you to Christ. My life was wrong,\nand I've repented and made it right.\" That man won his entire class\nfor Christ, and they joined Dr. McKibben's church at Walnut Hills,\nCincinnati, Ohio.\n\nIf you would get right with God what would be the result? Why, you\nwould save your city.\n\n\nThe Fame of a Christian\n\nSome time ago the funeral of a famous woman was held in London. Edward,\nwho was king then, came with his consort, Alexandra, to look upon her\nface, and dukes and duchesses and members of the nobility came. Then\nthe doors were opened and the populace came in by thousands. Down the\naisle came a woman whose face and dress bore the marks of poverty. By\none hand she led a child, and in her arms she carried another. As she\nreached the coffin she set down the child she was carrying and bent her\nhead upon the glass above the quiet face in the coffin, and her old\nfascinator fell down upon it.\n\n\"Come,\" said a policeman, \"you must move on.\"\n\nBut the woman stood by the coffin. \"I'll not move on,\" she said, \"for I\nhave a right here.\"\n\nThe policeman said, \"You must move on. It's orders;\" but the woman\nsaid, \"No, I've walked sixty miles to look upon her face again. She\nsaved my two boys from being drunkards.\" The woman in the coffin was\nMrs. Booth, wife of the great leader of the Salvation Army.\n\nI'd rather have some reclaimed drunkard, or some poor girl redeemed\nfrom sin and shame, stand by my coffin and rain down tears of gratitude\nupon it, than to have a monument of gold studded with precious stones,\nthat would pierce the skies.\n\n\"If ye love me keep my commandments. And I will pray the Father, and he\nshall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you forever.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nA Victorious Sermon\n\n If you fall into sin and you're a sheep you'll get out; if you're a\n hog you'll stay there, just like a sheep and a hog when they fall into\n the mud.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nOn the walls of Sir Walter Scott's home at Abbottsford hangs the\nclaymore of the redoubtable Rob Roy, one of the most interesting\nobjects in that absorbing library of the great novelist. A peculiar\ninterest attaches to the instruments of great achievement, as the\nscimitar of Saladin, or the sword of Richard the Lion-Hearted, or the\nrifle of Daniel Boone. Something of this same sort of interest clings\nto a particular form of words that has wrought wondrously. Apart\naltogether from its contents, Sunday's sermon on \"The Unpardonable\nSin\" is of peculiar interest to the reader. This is the message\nthat has penetrated through the indifference and skepticism and\nself-righteousness and shameless sin of thousands of men and women.\nMany thousands of persons have, under the impulse of these words,\nabandoned their old lives and crowded forward up the sawdust trail to\ngrasp the preacher's hand, as a sign that they would henceforth serve\nthe Lord Christ.\n\n\"The Unpardonable Sin\" is a good sample of Sunday's sermons. It\nshows the character of the man's mind, and that quality of sound\nreasonableness which we call \"common sense.\" There are no excesses, no\nabnormalities, no wrenchings of Scripture in this terrific utterance.\n\n\n\"THE UNPARDONABLE SIN\"\n\n\"Wherefore I say unto you, All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be\nforgiven unto men: but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not\nbe forgiven unto men.\n\n\"And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall be\nforgiven him: but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall\nnot be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to\ncome.\"\n\nI'd like to know where anybody ever found any authority for a belief in\nfuture probation. Jesus Christ was either human or he was divine. And\nif he was only human then I am not obligated to obey his word any more\nthan I am that of any other philosopher.\n\nThe Pharisees charged Jesus with being in league with the devil. They\nsaid to him, \"You have a devil.\" They grew bolder in their denunciation\nand said: \"You do what you do through Beelzebub, the prince of devils.\"\nJesus said: \"How is that so? If what I do I do through the devil,\nexplain why it is I am overthrowing the works of the devil. If I am a\ndevil and if what I do is through the devil, then I wouldn't be working\nto hurt the works of the devil. I would not be doing what I am doing to\ndestroy the works of the devil, but I would be working to destroy the\nworks of God.\"\n\nFrom that day forth they dared not ask him any questions.\n\nI know there are various opinions held by men as to what they believe\nconstitutes the sin against the Holy Ghost. There are those who think\nit could have been committed only by those who heard Jesus Christ speak\nand saw him in the flesh. If that be true then neither you nor I are\nin danger, for neither has ever seen Jesus in the flesh nor heard him.\nAnother class think that it has been committed since the days of Jesus,\nbut at extremely rare intervals; and still a third class think they\nhave committed it and they spend their lives in gloom and dread and are\nperfectly useless to themselves and the community.\n\nAnd yet I haven't the slightest doubt but that there are thousands\nthat come under the head of my message, who are never gloomy, never\ndepressed, never downcast; their conscience is at ease, their spirits\nare light and gay, they eat three meals a day and sleep as sound as a\nbabe at night; nothing seems to disturb them, life is all pleasure and\nsong.\n\n\nWhat It Is\n\nIf you will lay aside any preconceived ideas or opinions which you\nmay have had or still have as to what you imagine, think or believe\nconstitutes the sin against the Holy Ghost, or the unpardonable sin,\nand if you will listen to me, for I have read every sermon I could ever\nget my hands upon the subject, and have listened to every man I have\never had an opportunity to hear preach, and have read everything the\nBible has taught on the subject.\n\nI do not say that my views on the subject are infallible, but I have\nwept and prayed and studied over it, and if time will permit and my\nstrength will allow and your patience endure, I will try and ask and\nanswer a few questions. What is it? Why will God not forgive it?\n\nIt is not swearing. If swearing were the unpardonable sin, lots of\nmen in heaven would have to go to hell and there are multitudes on\nearth on their way to heaven who would have to go to hell. It is\nnot drunkenness. There are multitudes in heaven that have crept and\ncrawled out of the quagmires of filth and the cesspools of iniquity and\ndrunkenness. Some of the brightest lights that ever blazed for God have\nbeen men that God saved from drunkenness.\n\nIt's not adultery. Jesus said to the woman committing adultery and\ncaught in the very act: \"Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more.\"\n\nIt isn't theft. He said to Zaccheus, \"This day is salvation come upon\nthy house.\" Zaccheus had been a thief.\n\nIt's not murder. Men's hands have been red with blood and God has\nforgiven them. The Apostle Paul's hands were red with blood.\n\nWhat is it? To me it is plain and simple. It is constant and continual,\nand final rejection of Jesus Christ as your Saviour. God's offer of\nmercy and salvation comes to you and you say, \"No,\" and you push it\naside. I do know that there is such a thing as the last call to every\nman or woman. God says that his spirit will not always strive with man,\nand when a man or woman says \"No\" as God's spirit strives for the last\ntime it forever seals your doom.\n\nIt is no special form of sin, no one act. It might be swearing, it\nmight be theft. Any one becomes unpardonable if God keeps calling on\nyou to forsake that sin and you keep on refusing to forsake it, and if\nyou don't then he will withdraw and let you alone and that sin will\nbecome unpardonable, for God won't ask you again to forsake it.\n\nIt is no one glaring act, but the constant repetition of the same\nthing. There will come a time when you commit that sin once too often.\n\nIt is a known law of mind that truth resisted loses its power on the\nmind that resists it. You hear a truth the first time and reject it.\nThe next time the truth won't seem so strong and will be easier to\nresist. God throws a truth in your face. You reject it. He throws\nagain; you reject again. Finally God will stop throwing the truth at\nyou and you will have committed the unpardonable sin.\n\n    \"There is a line by us unseen;\n      It crosses every path;\n    It is God's boundary between\n      His patience and his wrath.\n\n    \"To cross that limit is to die,\n      To die as if by stealth.\n    It may not dim your eye,\n      Nor pale the glow of health,\n\n    \"Your conscience may be still at ease;\n      Your spirits light and gay;\n    That which pleases still may please,\n      And care be thrown away;\n\n    \"But on that forehead God hath set\n      Indelibly a mark,\n    Unseen by man; for man as yet\n      Is blind and in the dark.\n\n    \"Indeed, the doomed one's path below\n      May bloom as Edens bloom;\n    He does not, will not know,\n      Nor believe that he is doomed.\"\n\nOver in Scotland there are men who earn their living by gathering the\neggs of birds, laid upon ledges on rocks away below the cliff top. They\nfasten a rope to a tree, also to themselves, then swing back and forth\nand in upon the ledge of rock. When a man was doing that same thing\nyears ago, the rope beneath his arms became untied, and the protruding\nrock caused the rope to hang many feet beyond his reach.\n\nThe man waited for help to come, but none came. Darkness came, the\nlight dawned, and he gave himself up to the fate of starvation, which\nhe felt inevitably awaiting him, when a breeze freshened and the\ndangling rope began to vibrate. As the wind increased in velocity it\nincreased the vibration of the rope and as it would bend in, he said:\n\"If I miss it, I die; if I seize it, it's my only chance,\" and with\na prayer to God as the rope bent in, he leaped out of the chasm and\nseized it and made his way hand over hand to the top, and when he\nreached it his hair was as white as the driven snow.\n\nThere is one cord that swings through this old world today--the Holy\nSpirit. With every invitation it swings farther away. We are living in\nthe last dispensation, the dispensation of the Holy Spirit, and God is\nspeaking to the world through the Holy Spirit today.\n\n\nResisting the Truth\n\nBy every known law of the mind, conversion must be effected by the\ninfluence of the truth on the mind. Every time you resist the truth\nthe next time you hear it, it loses its force on your mind. And every\ntime you hear a truth and withstand it, then you become stronger in\nyour power to resist the truth. We all know this, that each resistance\nstrengthens you against the truth. When a man hears the truth and he\nresists it, the truth grows weaker and he grows stronger to resist it.\n\nNo matter what Jesus Christ did the Jews refused to believe. He had\nperformed wonderful deeds but they wouldn't believe, so when Lazarus\nwas dead, he said: \"Lazarus, come forth,\" and then turned to the Jews\nand said: \"Isn't that evidence enough that I am the Son of God?\" and\nthey cried: \"Away with him.\" One day he was walking down the hot dusty\nroad and he met a funeral procession. The mourners were bearing the\nbody of a young man and his mother was weeping. He told them to place\nthe coffin on the ground and said:\n\n\"Young man arise,\" and he arose. Then he asked the Pharisees: \"Is that\nnot proof enough that I am the Son of God, that I make the dead to\narise?\" and they cried: \"Away with him.\" So no matter what Jesus did,\nthe Jews refused to believe him. No matter what Jesus Christ says or\ndoes today, you'll refuse to accept, and continue to rush pell-mell to\neternal damnation.\n\n\n\"Too Late\"\n\nJesus Christ gives you just as much evidence today. Down in Indiana, my\nfriend, Mrs. Robinson, was preaching. I don't remember the town, but I\nthink it was Kokomo, and I remember the incident, and the last day she\ntried to get the leader of society there to give her heart to God. She\npreached and then went down in the aisle and talked to her. Then she\nwent back to the platform and made her appeal from there. Again she\nwent to the girl, but she still refused. As Mrs. Robinson turned to go\nshe saw her borrow a pencil from her escort and write something in the\nback of a hymn book.\n\nA few years afterward Mrs. Robinson went back to the town and was\ntold the girl was dying. They told her the physicians had just held a\nconsultation and said she could not live until night. Mrs. Robinson\nhurried to her home. The girl looked up, recognized her and said: \"I\ndidn't send for you. You came on your own account, and you're too\nlate.\" To every appeal she would reply: \"You're too late.\" Finally she\nsaid: \"Go look in the hymn book in the church.\"\n\nThey hurried to the church and looked over the hymn books and found in\nthe back of one her name and address and these words, \"I'll run the\nrisk; I'll take my chance.\" That was the last call to her. Not any one\nsin is the unpardonable sin, but it may be that constant repetition,\nover and over again until God will say: \"Take it and go to hell.\"\n\nWho can commit it? I used to think that only the vile, the profane were\nthe people who could commit it.\n\nWhom did Jesus warn? The Pharisees. And who were they? The best men,\nmorally, in Jerusalem.\n\nWho can commit it? Any man or woman who says \"No\" to Jesus Christ. You\nmay even defend the Bible. You may be the best man or woman, morally,\nin the world. Your name may be synonymous with virtue and purity, but\nlet God try to get into your heart, let him try to get you to walk down\nthe aisle and publicly acknowledge Jesus Christ, and your heart and\nlips are sealed like a bank vault, and God hasn't been able to pull you\nto your feet. And God won't keep on begging you to do it.\n\nSomething may say to you, \"I ought to be a Christian.\" This is the\ndispensation of the Holy Spirit. God spoke in three dispensations.\nFirst, through the old Mosaic law. Then Jesus Christ came upon this\nearth and lived and the Jews and Gentiles conspired to kill him. Then\nthe Holy Spirit came down at Pentecost and God is speaking through the\nHoly Spirit today. The Holy Spirit is pressing you to be a Christian.\nIt takes the combined efforts of the Trinity to keep you out of\nhell--God the Father to provide the plan of salvation, the Holy Spirit\nto convict, Jesus Christ to redeem you through his blood, and your\nacceptance and repentance to save you. Sin is no trifle.\n\n\nRepresentative of the Trinity\n\nThe only representative of the Trinity in the world today is the Holy\nGhost. Jesus has been here, but he is not here now--that is, in flesh\nand blood. The Holy Ghost is here now. When he leaves the world,\ngood-bye.\n\nThere was an old saint of God, now in glory. He was holding meetings\none time and a young man came down the aisle and went so far as to\nask him to pray for him. He said: \"Let's settle it now,\" but the\nyoung man refused and told him to pray for him. Years afterwards, in\nPhiladelphia, the old saint was in a hotel waiting for his card to\nbe taken up to the man he wanted to see. He looked in the bar-room\ndoor. There was a young man ordering a drink. The two saw each other's\nreflections in the French plate behind the bar, and the young man came\nout and said: \"How do you do?\" The old man spoke to him.\n\nThe young fellow said: \"I suppose you don't remember me?\" and the old\nsaint had to admit that he did not.\n\nThe young fellow asked him if he remembered the meeting eleven years\nbefore in New York when a young man came down the aisle and asked him\nto pray for him. He said he was the young man. The old saint said:\n\"From what I have just seen I would suppose that you did not settle it.\"\n\nThe young fellow said: \"I did not and I never expect to. I believe\nthere is a hell and I'm going there as fast as I can go.\"\n\nThe old man begged him to keep still, but he said: \"It is true. If\nJesus Christ would come through that door now I would spit in his\nface.\"\n\nThe old man said: \"Don't talk that way. I would not stand to have you\ntalk about my wife that way, and I will not stand it to have you talk\nabout Christ that way.\" The young fellow said it was all true. The old\nfellow said: \"Maybe it is all true, but I do not like to hear it.\" The\nyoung fellow said it was true, and that if he had a Bible he would tear\nit up. With a string of oaths he went to the bar, took two or three\ndrinks and went out the door.\n\nSometimes it may be utter, absolute indifference. Some can hear any\nsermon and any song and not be moved. I'll venture that some of you\nhave not been convicted of sin for twenty-five years. Back yonder the\nSpirit of God convicted you and you didn't yield. The first place I\never preached, in the little town of Garner, in Hancock county, Iowa, a\nman came down the aisle. I said, \"Who's that?\" and someone told me that\nhe was one of the richest men in the county. I asked him what I had\nsaid to help him, and he said nothing. Then he told me that twenty-one\nyears ago he had gone to Chicago and sold his stock four hours before\nhe had to catch a train. Moody was in town and with a friend he had\ngone and stood inside the door, listening to the sermon. When Moody\ngave the invitation he handed his coat and hat to his friend and said\nhe was going down to give Moody his hand. The friend told him not to do\nit, that he would miss his train, and then the railroad pass would be\nno good after that day. He said he could afford to pay his way home.\n\nHis friend told him not to go up there amid all the excitement, but to\nwait and settle it at home. He said he had waited thirty-five years and\nhadn't settled it at home, but the friend persisted against his going\nforward and giving his heart to God. Finally the time passed and they\nhad to catch the train and the man hadn't gone forward. He told me that\nhe had never had a desire to give his heart to God until that time,\ntwenty-one years later, when he heard me preach. The Spirit called him\nwhen he heard Moody, and then the Spirit did not call him again until\ntwenty-one years later, when he heard me.\n\nI have never said and I never will say that all unbelievers died in\nagony. Man ordinarily dies as he has lived. If you have lived in\nunbelief, ninety-nine cases out of one hundred you'll die that way. If\nChristianity is a good thing to die with it is a good thing to live\nwith.\n\n\nDeath-bed Confessions\n\nI don't go much on these death-bed confessions. A death-bed confession\nis like burning a candle at both ends and then blowing the smoke in the\nface of Jesus. A death-bed confession is like drinking the cup of life\nand then offering the dregs to Christ. I think it is one of the most\ncontemptible, miserable, low-down, unmanly and unwomanly things that\nyou can do, to keep your life in your own control until the last moment\nand then try to creep into the kingdom on account of the long-suffering\nand mercy of Jesus Christ. I don't say that none is genuine. But there\nis only one on record in the Bible, and that was the first time the\ndying thief had ever heard of Christ, and he accepted at once. So your\ncase is not analogous to this. You have wagon loads of sermons dumped\ninto you, but it's a mighty hard thing to accept in the last moment. If\nyou've lived without conviction, your friends ought not to get mad when\nthe preacher preaches your funeral sermon, if he doesn't put you in the\nfront row in heaven, with a harp in your hands and a crown on your head.\n\nGod can forgive sins but you have got to comply with his requirements.\nHe is not willing that any shall perish, but he has a right to tell me\nand you what to do to be saved.\n\nA doctor had been a practitioner for sixty years and he was asked\nhow many Godless men he had seen show any trace of concern on their\ndeath-bed. He said he had kept track of three hundred and only three\nhad shown any real concern. That is appalling to me. You ordinarily die\nas you have lived.\n\nA minister was called to a house of shame to be with a dying girl in\nher last moments. He prayed and then looked at her face and saw no\nsigns of hope of repentance. He was led to pray again and this time he\nwas led to put in a verse of scripture, Isaiah 1:18: \"Come now and let\nus reason together, saith the Lord: Though your sins be as scarlet,\nthey shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they\nshall be as wool.\"\n\n\"Is that what the Bible says?\" the girl asked. He said it was. \"Would\nyou let me see it?\" and the minister pointed it out to her.\n\n\"Would you pray again and put in that verse?\" the girl asked and as he\nstarted she called, \"Stop! Let me put my finger on that verse.\" The\nminister prayed and when he looked again, he saw hope and pardon and\npeace in the girl's face. \"I'm so glad God made that 'scarlet,'\" she\nsaid, \"for that means me.\"\n\nAll manner of sins God will forgive. Then tell me why you will not come\nwhen God says, \"All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto\nmen.\" Great heavens! I can't understand how you sit still.\n\nBut a man says: \"Bill, will He forgive a murderer? My hands are red\nwith blood, although no one knows it.\" Didn't I say he forgave Paul?\n\n\nA Forgiving God\n\nA friend of mine was preaching in Lansing, Michigan, one time, and\nin the middle section of the church there was a man who made him so\nnervous he couldn't watch him and preach. Nothing seemed to attract him\nuntil he said, \"Supposing there were a murderer here tonight, God would\nforgive him if he accepted Christ,\" and the man grabbed the chair in\nfront of him at the word murderer and sat rigid throughout the sermon,\nnever taking his eyes from my friend. At the end of the meeting my\nfriend went down to him and asked him what was the matter, telling him\nthat he had made him so nervous he could hardly preach. The man said:\n\"I'm a murderer. I escaped through a technicality and I'm supporting\nthe widow and children, but I am a murderer.\" My friend brought him to\nJesus Christ and now that man is a power in the Church. All manner of\nsins God says he will forgive.\n\nSome say: \"Mr. Sunday, why is it that so few aged sinners are converts?\"\n\nInfidels when asked this, seize upon it as a plan of attack. When God\nbegins to show his power, then the devil and all of the demons of hell\nget busy. That's the best evidence in the world that these meetings are\ndoing good, when that bunch of knockers gets busy. Infidels sneer and\nsay: \"How does it happen that when a man's mind has developed through\nage and experience and contact with the world, and he has passed the\nperiod of youthful enthusiasm, how does it happen that so few of them\nare converted?\"\n\nReligion makes its appeal to your sensibility, not to your intellect.\nThe way into the kingdom of heaven is heart first, not head first. God\nis not an explanation; God is a revelation.\n\nA grain of corn is a revelation, but you can't explain it. You know\nthat if you put the vegetable kingdom in the mineral kingdom the\nvegetable will be born again, but you can't explain it. Some of the\ngreatest things are revelations. Therefore, instead of being an\nargument against religion, it is an argument for it.\n\nDon't you know that sixteen out of twenty who are converted are\nconverted before they are twenty years old? Don't you know that\neighteen out of thirty who are converted are converted before they are\nthirty years old? Don't you know that?\n\nWhat does that prove? It proves that if you are not converted before\nyou are thirty years old the chances are about 100,000 to one that you\nnever will be converted.\n\n\nPower of Revivals\n\nMost people are converted at special revival services. I want to\nhurl this in the teeth, cram it down the throats of those who sneer\nat revival efforts--preachers included. Almost nine-tenths of the\nChristians at this meeting were converted at a revival. What does that\nshow? It shows that if you are thirty and have not been converted, the\nchances are that if you are not converted at this revival you never\nwill be converted.\n\nIf it weren't for revivals, just think of what hell would be like. Then\nthink of any low-down, God-forsaken, dirty gang knocking a revival.\n\nGod says: \"You can spurn my love and trample the blood under your\nfeet, but if you seek my pardon I will forgive you.\" You might have\nbeen indifferent to the appeals of the minister, you might have been a\nthief, or an adulterer, or a blasphemer, or a scoffer, and all that,\nbut God says: \"I will forgive you.\" You might have been indifferent to\nthe tears of poor wife and children and friends, but if you will seek\nGod he will forgive you.\n\nBut when He came down and revealed himself as the Son of God through\nthe Holy Spirit, if you sneer and say it is not true, your sin may\nbecome unpardonable. If you don't settle it here you never will settle\nit anywhere else.\n\nI will close with a word of comfort and a word of warning. If you have\na desire to be a Christian it is proof that the devil hasn't got you\nyet. That is the comfort. Now for the warning: If you have that desire\nthank God for it and yield to it. You may never have another chance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nEternity! Eternity!\n\n I tell you a lot of people are going to be fooled on the Day of\n Judgment.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nOnly a man to whom has been given eloquence and a dramatic instinct\ncan drive home to the average mind the realities of eternity and its\nrelation to right living in this world and time. Under the title \"What\nShall the End Be?\" Sunday has widely circulated his message upon this\ntheme:\n\n\n\"WHAT SHALL THE END BE?\"\n\nNo book ever came by luck or chance. Every book owes its existence\nto some being or beings, and within the range and scope of human\nintelligence there are but three things--good, bad and God. All that\noriginates in intellect; all which the intellect can comprehend, must\ncome from one of the three. This book, the Bible, could not possibly\nbe the product of evil, wicked, godless, corrupt, vile men, for it\npronounces the heaviest penalties against sin. Like produces like, and\nif bad men were writing the Bible they never would have pronounced\ncondemnation and punishment against wrong-doing. So that is pushed\naside.\n\nThe holy men of old, we are told, spake as they were moved by the\nHoly Ghost. Men do not attribute these beautiful and matchless and\nwell-arranged sentences to human intelligence alone, but we are told\nthat men spake as they were inspired by the Holy Ghost.\n\nThe only being left, to whom you, or I or any sensible person could\nascribe the origin of the Bible, is God, for here is a book, the\nexcellence of which rises above other books, like mountains above\nmolehills--a book whose brilliancy and life-giving power exceed the\naccumulated knowledge and combined efforts of men, as the sun exceeds\nthe lamp, which is but a base imitation of the sun's glory. Here is\na book that tells me where I came from and where I am going, a book\nwithout which I would not know of my origin or destiny, except as I\nmight glean it from the dim outlines of reason or nature, either or\nboth of which would be unsatisfactory to me. Here is a book that tells\nme what to do and what not to do.\n\n\nMen Believe in God\n\nMost men believe in God. Now and then you find a man who doesn't, and\nhe's a fool, for \"The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God.\"\nMost men have sense. Occasionally you will find a fool, or an infidel,\nwho doesn't believe in God. Most men believe in a God that will reward\nthe right and punish the wrong; therefore it is clear what attitude you\nought to assume toward my message tonight, for the message I bring to\nyou is not from human reason or intelligence, but from God's Book.\n\n\"What shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?\" Now\nlisten, and I will try to help you. Israel's condition was desperate.\nPeter told them that if they continued to break God's law, they would\nmerit his wrath. I can imagine him crying out in the words of Jeremiah:\n\"What will you do in the swelling of the Jordan?\" I hear him cry in the\nwords of Solomon: \"The way of the transgressor is hard.\" That seems to\nhave moved him, and I can hear him cry in the words of my text: \"What\nshall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?\"\n\nThere are those who did obey. Peter knew what their end would\nbe--blessings here and eternal life hereafter--but he said, \"What shall\nthe end be of them that obey not?\"\n\nA man said, \"I cannot be a Christian. I cannot obey God.\" That is not\ntrue. That would make God out a demon and a wretch. God says if you\nare not a Christian you will be doomed. If God asked mankind to do\nsomething, and he knew when he asked them that they could not do it,\nand he told them he would damn them if they didn't do it, it would make\nGod out a demon and a wretch, and I will not allow you or any other man\nto stand up and insult my God. You can be a Christian if you want to,\nand it is your cussedness that you are unwilling to give up that keeps\nyou away from God.\n\nSupposing I should go on top of a building and say to my little baby\nboy, \"Fly up to me.\" If he could talk, he would say, \"I can't.\" And\nsupposing I would say, \"But you can; if you don't, I'll whip you to\ndeath.\" When I asked him to do it, I knew he couldn't, yet I told him I\nwould whip him to death if he didn't, and in saying that I would, as an\nearthly father, be just as reasonable as God would be if he should ask\nyou to do something you couldn't do, and though he knew when he asked\nyou that you couldn't do it, nevertheless would damn you if you didn't\ndo it.\n\nDon't tell God you can't. Just say you don't want to be a Christian,\nthat's the way to be a man. Just say, \"I don't want to be decent; I\ndon't want to quit cussing; I don't want to quit booze-fighting; I\ndon't want to quit lying; I don't want to quit committing adultery.\nIf I should be a Christian I would have to quit all these things,\nand I don't want to do it.\" Tell God you are not man enough to be a\nChristian. Don't try to saddle it off on the Lord. You don't want to do\nit, that's all; that's the trouble with you.\n\n\nAt the Cross\n\nA man in a town in Ohio came and handed one of the ministers a letter,\nand he said, \"I want you to read that when you get home.\" When the\nminister got home he opened it and it read like this:\n\n\"I was at the meeting last night, and somehow or other, the words\n'What shall the end be?' got hold of me, and troubled me. I went to\nbed, but couldn't sleep. I got up and went to my library. I took down\nmy books on infidelity and searched them through and searched through\nthe writings of Voltaire, and Darwin, and Spencer, and Strauss, and\nHuxley, and Tyndall, and through the lectures of Ingersoll, but none of\nthem could answer the cry and longing of my heart, and I turn to you.\nIs there help? Where will I find it?\" And that man found it where every\nman ever has, or ever will find it, down at the Cross of Jesus Christ,\nand I have been praying God that might be the experience of many a man\nand woman in this Tabernacle.\n\nEver since God saved my soul and sent me out to preach, I have prayed\nhim to enable me to pronounce two words, and put into those words all\nthey will mean to you; if they ever become a reality, God pity you. One\nword is \"Lost,\" and the other is \"Eternity.\"\n\nTen thousand years from now we will all be somewhere. Ten thousand\ntimes ten thousand times ten thousand years, the eternity has just\nbegun. Increase the multiple and you will only increase the truth. If\nGod should commission a bird to carry this earth, particle by particle,\nto yonder planet, making a round trip once in a thousand years, and\nif, after the bird had performed that task God should prolong its\nlife, and it would carry the world back, particle by particle, making\na round trip once in a thousand years, and put everything back as it\nwas originally, after it had accomplished its task, you would have been\nfive minutes in eternity; and yet you sit there with just a heart-beat\nbetween you and the judgment of God. I have been praying that God would\nenable me to pronounce those two words and put in them all they will\nmean to you, that I might startle you from your lethargy. I prayed God,\ntoo, that he might give me some new figure of speech tonight, that he\nmight impress my mind, that I, in turn, might impress your mind in such\na manner that I could startle you from your indifference and sin, until\nyou would rush to Jesus.\n\n\nThe Judgment of God\n\nWhat is your life? A hand's breadth--yes, a hair's breadth--yes, one\nsingle heart-beat, and you are gone, and yet you sit with the judgment\nof God hovering over you. \"What shall the end be?\"\n\nI never met any man or woman in my life who disbelieved in Christianity\nbut could not be classified under one of these two headings.\n\nFirst--They who, because of an utter disregard of God's claims upon\ntheir lives, have, by and through that disregard, become poltroons,\nmarplots or degenerate scoundrels, and have thrown themselves beyond\nthe pale of God's mercy.\n\nSecond--Men and women with splendid, noble and magnificent abilities,\nwhich they have allowed to become absorbed in other matters, and they\ndo not give to the subjects of religion so much as passing attention.\nThey have the audacity to claim for themselves an intellectual\nsuperiority to those who believe the Bible, which they sneeringly term\n'that superstition.' But, listen! I will challenge you. If you will\nbring to religion or to the divinity of Jesus, or the salvation of your\nsoul, the same honest inquiry you demand of yourself in other matters,\nyou will know God is God; you will know the Bible is the Word of God,\nand you will know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. You will know\nthat you are a sinner on the road to hell, and you will turn from your\nsins. But you don't give to religion, you don't demand of yourself,\nthe same amount of research that you would demand of yourself if you\nwere going to buy a piece of property, to find out whether or not the\ntitle was perfect. You wouldn't buy it if you didn't know the title was\nwithout a flaw, and yet you will pass the Bible by and claim you have\nmore sense than the person who does investigate and finds out, accepts\nand is saved.\n\n\nGlad Tidings to All\n\nWhat is the Gospel that the people ought to obey it? It is good news,\nglad tidings of salvation, through Jesus Christ.\n\nOh, but somebody says, do you call the news of that book that I am on\nthe road to hell, good news? No, sir; that in itself is not good news,\nbut since it is the truth, the sooner you find out the better it will\nbe for you.\n\nSupposing you are wandering, lost in a swamp, and a man would come to\nyou and say: \"You are lost.\" That wouldn't help you. But supposing the\nman said: \"You are lost; I am a guide; I know the way out. If you put\nyourself in my care, I will lead you back to your home, back to your\nloved ones.\" That would meet your condition.\n\nNow God doesn't tell you that you are lost, and on the road to hell,\nand then leave you, but he tells you that you are on the road to hell,\nand he says, \"I have sent a guide, my Son, to lead you out, and to lead\nyou back to peace and salvation.\" That's good news, that God is kind\nenough to tell you that you are lost, and on the road to hell, and that\nhe sends a guide, who, if you will submit, will lead you out of your\ncondition and lead you to peace and salvation. That's gospel; that's\ngood news that tells a man that he needn't go to hell unless he wants\nto.\n\nWhen the Israelites were bitten by the serpents in the wilderness,\nwasn't it good news for them to know that Moses had raised up a brazen\nserpent and bid them all to look and be healed?\n\nWhen the flood came, wasn't it good news for Noah to know that he would\nbe saved in the ark?\n\nWhen the city of Jericho was going to fall, wasn't it good news to\nRahab. She had been kind and had hid two of God's servants who were\nbeing pursued as spies. They were running across the housetops to\nget away to the wall to drop down, and Rahab covered them, on top of\nher house, with grass and corn, and when the men came they could not\nfind them. After the men had gone, Rahab gave them cord and lowered\nthem down the wall, and God said to her, \"Because you did that for my\nservants, I will save you and your household when I take the city of\nJericho. What I want you to do is to hang a scarlet line out of your\nwindow and I will save all that are under your roof.\" Wasn't it good\nnews to her to know that she and all her household would be saved by\nhanging a scarlet line out of the window? Never has such news been\npublished. \"Thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall save his\npeople from their sins.\" It was good news, but never has such news\nreached the world as that man need not go to hell, for God has provided\nredemption for them that will accept of it and be saved.\n\n[Illustration: REV. L. K. PEACOCK, ONE OF MR. SUNDAY'S ASSISTANTS,\nPREACHING IN A MACHINE SHOP IN ONE OF THE NOONDAY MEETINGS THAT FORM AN\nIMPORTANT PART OF ALL CAMPAIGNS.]\n\nSupposing a man owed you $5,000 and he had nothing to pay it with. You\nwould seize him and put him in jail, and supposing while there, your\nown son would come and say: \"Father, how much does he owe you?\" \"Five\nthousand dollars.\" And your son would pay it and the man would be\nreleased.\n\nAh, my friends, hear me! We were all mortgaged to God, had nothing with\nwhich to pay, and inflexible justice seized upon us and put us in the\nprison of condemnation. God took pity on us. He looked around to find\nsome one to pay our debts. Jesus Christ stepped forward and said: \"I'll\ngo; I'll become bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh.\" God gave\nman the Mosaic law. Man broke the law.\n\nIf a Jew violated the law he was compelled to bring a turtle dove, or\npigeon, or heifer, or bullock to the high priest for a sacrifice, and\nthe shedding of its blood made atonement for his sins. Once a year the\nhigh priest would kill the sacrifice, putting it on the altar. That\nmade atonement for the sins of the people during the year. Then they\nwould put their hand on the head of the scape-goat, and lead it out\ninto the wilderness.\n\n\nThe Atonement of Christ\n\nJesus Christ came into the world, born of a woman. When he shed his\nblood, he made atonement for our sins. God says, \"If you will accept\nJesus Christ as your Saviour, I will put it to your credit as though\nyou kept the law.\" And it's Jesus Christ or hell for every man or woman\non God Almighty's dirt. There is no other way whereby you can be saved.\nIt's good news that you don't have to go to hell, unless you want to.\n\nWhen the North German Lloyd steamer, the _Elbe_, went down in the\nNorth Sea, years and years ago, only nineteen of her passengers and\ncrew were saved. Among them was a county commissioner who lived in\nCleveland, Ohio, and when he reached the little English town he sent\na cablegram to his wife, in which he said, \"The _Elbe_ is lost; I\nam saved.\" She crumpled that cablegram, ran down the street to her\nneighbors, and as she ran she waved it above her head and cried, \"He's\nsaved! He's saved!\" That cablegram is framed, and hangs upon the walls\nof their beautiful Euclid Avenue home. It was good news to her that he\nwhom she loved was saved.\n\nGood news I bring you. Good news I bring you, people. You need not go\nto hell if you will accept the Christ that I preach to you.\n\n\"What shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel?\" And the\ngospel of God is, \"Repent or you will go to hell.\" \"What shall the end\nbe of them that obey not the gospel?\" What is the gospel, and what is\nit to obey the gospel? We have seen that it is good news; now what is\nit to obey? What was it for Israel to obey? Look at the brazen serpent\non the pole. What was it for Noah to obey? Build the ark and get into\nit. What was it for Rahab to obey? Hang a scarlet line out of the\nwindow, and God would pass her by when he took the city of Jericho. All\nthat was obeying. It was believing God's message and obeying.\n\nAh! I see a man. He walks to the banks of the Seine, in Paris, to end\nhis life. He walked to the bank four times, but he didn't plunge in.\nHe filled a cup with poison, three times raised it to his lips, but he\ndid not drink. He cocked the pistol, put it against his temple. He did\nthat twice, but he didn't pull the trigger. He heard the story of Jesus\nChrist and dropped on his knees, and William Cowper wrote:\n\n    \"God moves in a mysterious way,\n      His wonders to perform;\n    He plants his footsteps in the sea,\n      And rides upon the storm.\n\n    \"There is a fountain filled with blood,\n      Drawn from Immanuel's veins;\n    And sinners plunged beneath that flood,\n      Lose all their guilty strains.\"\n\nSo that's what you found, is it, Cowper?\n\nI go to Bridgeport, Connecticut. I rap at a humble home and walk into\nthe presence of Fanny J. Crosby, the blind hymn-writer. She has written\nover six thousand hymns. She never saw the light of day, was born\nblind, and I say to her, \"Oh, Miss Crosby, tell me that I may tell the\npeople what you have found by trusting in the finished work of Jesus\nChrist? You have sat in darkness for ninety-four years; tell me, Miss\nCrosby.\" And that face lights up like a halo of glory; those sightless\neyes flash, and she cries:\n\n    \"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine;\n    Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!\"\n\n    \"Pass me not, O gentle Saviour,\n    Hear my humble cry!\"\n\n    \"Jesus keep me near the cross,\n    There's a precious fountain.\"\n\n    \"Once I was blind, but now I can see,\n    The light of the world is Jesus.\"\n\n    \"And I shall see Him, face to face,\n    And tell the story, Saved by Grace.\"\n\nI go to Wesley as he walks along the banks of a stream, while the storm\nraged, the lightning flashed and the thunder roared. The birds were\ndriven, in fright, from their refuge in the boughs of the trees. A\nlittle bird took refuge in his coat. Wesley held it tenderly, walked\nhome, put it in a cage, kept it until morning, carried it out, opened\nthe door and watched it as it circled around and shot off for its\nmountain home. He returned to his house and wrote:\n\n    \"Jesus, lover of my soul,\n    Let me to thy bosom fly.\"\n\nWhat have you found by trusting in the finished work of Jesus Christ?\n\n\nGod's Word\n\nIt is said of Napoleon that one day he was riding in review before his\ntroops, when the horse upon which he sat became unmanageable, seized\nthe bit in his teeth, dashed down the road and the life of the famous\nwarrior was in danger. A private, at the risk of his life, leaped out\nand seized the runaway horse, while Napoleon, out of gratitude, raised\nin the stirrups, saluted and said, \"Thank you, captain.\" The man said,\n\"Captain of what, sir?\" \"Captain of my Life Guards, sir,\" said he.\n\n[Illustration: \"CAPTAIN OF MY LIFE GUARDS, SIR\"]\n\nThe man stepped over to where the Life Guards were in consultation\nand they ordered him back into the ranks. He refused to go and issued\norders to the officer by saying, \"I am Captain of the Guards.\" Thinking\nhim insane, they ordered his arrest and were dragging him away, when\nNapoleon rode up and the man said, \"I am Captain of the Guards because\nthe Emperor said so.\" And Napoleon arose and said, \"Yes, Captain of my\nLife Guards. Loose him, sir; loose him.\"\n\nI am a Christian because God says so, and I did what he told me to do,\nand I stand on God's Word and if that book goes down, I'll go down with\nit. If God goes down, I'll go with him, and if there were any other\nkind of God, except that God, I would have been shipwrecked long ago.\nTwenty-seven years ago in Chicago I piled all I had, my reputation, my\ncharacter, my wife, children, home; I staked my soul, everything I had,\non the God of that Bible, and the Christ of that Bible, and I won.\n\n\"What shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?\" Hear\nme! There are three incomprehensibilities to me. Don't think there are\nonly three things I don't know, or don't you think that I think there\nare only three things I don't know. I say, there are three things that\nI cannot comprehend.\n\n\nEternity and Space\n\nFirst--Eternity; that something away off yonder, somewhere. You will\nthink it will end. It leads on, on, on and on. I can take a billion,\nI can subtract a million; I can take a million or a billion, or a\nquadrillion, or a septillion of years from eternity, and I haven't\nas much as disturbed its original terms. Minds trained to deal with\nintricate problems will go reeling back in their utter inability to\ncomprehend eternity.\n\nAnd there is space. When you go out tonight, look up at the moon,\n240,000 miles away. Walking forty miles a day, I could reach the moon\nin seventeen years, but the moon is one of our near neighbors. Ah, you\nsaw the sun today, 92,900,000 miles away. I couldn't walk to the sun.\nIf I could charter a fast train, going fifty miles an hour, it would\ntake the train two hundred and fifteen years to reach the sun.\n\nIn the early morn you will see a star, near the\nsun--Mercury--91,000,000 miles away; travels around the sun once in\neighty-eight days, going at the speed of 110,000 miles an hour, as it\nswings in its orbit.\n\nNext is Venus; she is beautiful; 160,000,000 miles away, travels around\nthe sun once in 224 days, going at the rate of 79,000 miles an hour, as\nshe swings in her orbit.\n\nThen comes the earth, the planet upon which we live, and as you sit\nthere, this old earth travels around the sun once in 365 days, or one\ncalendar year, going at the speed of 68,000 miles an hour, and as you\nsit there and I stand here, this old planet is swinging in her orbit\n68,000 miles an hour, and she is whirling on her axis nineteen miles a\nsecond. By force of gravity we are held from falling into illimitable\nspace.\n\nYonder is Mars, 260,000,000 miles away. Travels around the sun once in\n687 days, or about two years, going at the speed of 49,000 miles an\nhour. Who knows but that it is inhabited by a race unsullied by sin,\nuntouched by death?\n\nYonder another, old Jupiter, champion of the skies, sashed and belted\naround with vapors of light. Jupiter, 480,000,000 miles away, travels\naround the sun once in twelve years, going at the speed of 30,000 miles\nan hour. I need something faster than an express train, going fifty\nmiles an hour, or a cyclone, going one hundred miles an hour. If I\ncould charter a Pullman palace car and couple it to a ray of light,\nwhich travels at the speed of 192,000 miles a second--if I could attach\nmy Pullman palace car to a ray of light, I could go to Jupiter and get\nback tomorrow morning for breakfast at nine o'clock, but Jupiter is one\nof our near neighbors.\n\nYonder is old Saturn, 885,000,000 miles away. Travels around the sun\nonce in twenty years, going at the speed of 21,000 miles an hour.\n\nAway yonder, I catch a faint glimmer of another stupendous world,\nas it swings in its tireless and prodigious journey. Old Uranus,\n1,780,000,000 miles away. Travels around the sun once in eighty-four\nyears, going at the speed of two hundred and fifty miles an hour.\n\nAs the distance of the planets from the sun increases, their velocity\nin their orbit correspondingly decreases.\n\nI say is that all? I hurry to Chicago and take the Northwestern. I rush\nout to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, I climb into the Yerkes observatory,\nand I turn the most ponderous telescope in the world to the skies, and\naway out on the frontier of the universe, on the very outer rim of the\nworld, I catch a faint glimmer of Neptune, 2,790,000,000 miles away.\nTravels around the sun once in one hundred and sixty-four years, going\nat the speed of two hundred and ten miles an hour. If I could step on\nthe deck of a battleship and aim a 13-inch gun, and that projectile\nwill travel 1,500 miles in a minute, it would take it three hundred and\nsixty years to reach that planet.\n\nAway out yonder is Alpha Centauri. If I would attach my palace car to\na ray of light and go at the speed of 192,000 miles a second, it would\ntake me three years to reach that planet. An express train, going\nthirty miles an hour, would be 80,000,000 years pulling into Union\ndepot at Alpha Centauri.\n\nYonder, the Polar or the North star. Traveling at a rate of speed of\n192,000 miles a second, it would take me forty-five years to reach that\nplanet. And if I would go to the depot and buy a railroad ticket to the\nNorth star, and pay three cents a mile, it would cost me $720,000,000\nfor railroad fare to go to that planet.\n\n\"Oh, God, what is man, that thou art mindful of him?\" And the fool, the\nfool, the fool hath said in his heart, \"There is no God.\" I'm not an\ninfidel, because I am no fool. \"The Heavens declare the glory of God\nand the firmament showeth his handiwork.\" I don't believe an infidel\never looked through a telescope or studied astronomy.\n\n\"What is man, that thou are mindful of him?\" These are days when it\nis \"Big man, little God.\" These are days when it is gigantic \"I,\" and\npigmy \"God.\" These are days when it is \"Ponderous man, infinitesimal\nGod.\"\n\nThere are 1,400,000,000 people on earth. You are one of that number,\nso am I. None of us amount to much. What do you or I amount to out of\n1,400,000,000 people? If I could take an auger and bore a hole in the\ntop of the sun, I could pour into the sun 1,400,000,000 worlds the\nsize of the planet upon which we live, and there would be room in the\nsun for more. Then think of the world, and God made that world, the\nGod that you cuss, the God that wants to keep you out of hell, the God\nwhose Son you have trampled beneath your feet.\n\nIf you take 1,400,000,000, multiply it by 1,400,000, multiply that by\n1,000,000, multiply that by millions, multiply that by infinity, that's\nGod. If you take 1,400,000,000, subtract 1,400,000, subtract millions,\nsubtract, subtract, subtract, subtract on down, that's you. If ever\na man appears like a consummate ass and an idiot, it's when he says\nhe don't believe in a God or tries to tell God his plan of redemption\ndon't appeal to him.\n\n\nGod's Infinite Love\n\nAnd the third: The third is the love of God to a lost and sin-cursed\nworld and man's indifference to God's love. How he has trampled God's\nlove beneath his feet, I don't understand. I don't understand why you\nhave grown gray-haired, and are not a Christian. I don't understand\nwhy you know right from wrong, and still are not a Christian. I don't\nunderstand it. Listen! What is it to obey the Gospel? The Gospel is\ngood news, and to obey it is to believe in Jesus. What is it not to\nobey? What was the end of those who weren't in the ark with Noah? They\nfound a watery grave. What was the end of those who didn't look at\nthe brazen serpent in the wilderness? They died. What was the end of\nthose who were not with Rahab when she hung out the scarlet line? They\nperished.\n\nWhen a man starts on a journey he has one object in view--the end. A\njourney is well, if it ends well. We are all on a journey to eternity.\nWhat will be the end? My text doesn't talk about the present. Your\npresent is, or may be, an enviable position in church, club life, or\ncommercial life, lodge, politics; your presence may be sought after to\ngrace every social gathering. God doesn't care about that. What shall\nthe end be? When all that is gone, when pleasures pass away, and\nsorrow and weeping and wailing take their place, what shall the end be?\n\n[Illustration: SNOWBALLING IN JUNE. BILLY SUNDAY AND PARTY ON PIKE'S\nPEAK.]\n\nSome people deny that their suffering in the other world will be\neternal fire. Do you think your scoffs can extinguish the flames of\nhell? Do you think you can annihilate hell because you don't believe in\nit? We have a few people who say, \"Matter is non-existent,\" but that\ndoesn't do away with the fact that matter is existent, just because we\nhave some people who haven't sense enough to see it. You say, \"I don't\nbelieve there is a hell.\" Well, there is, whether you believe it or\nnot. You say, \"I don't believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God.\" Well,\nhe is, whether you believe it or not. Some people say, \"I don't believe\nthere is a heaven.\" There is, whether you believe it or not. You say,\n\"I don't believe the Bible is the Word of God.\" Well, it is, and your\ndisbelief does not change the fact, and the sooner you wake up to that\nthe better for you. I might say that I don't believe George Washington\never lived. I never saw him, but it wouldn't do away with the fact that\nhe did live, and George Washington lies buried on the banks of the\nPotomac. You say you don't believe there is a hell, but that doesn't do\naway with the fact that there is a hell.\n\nWhat difference does it make whether the fire in hell is literal, or\nthe fittest emblem God could employ to describe to us the terrible\npunishment? Do you believe the streets of heaven are paved with literal\ngold? Do you believe that? When we talk about gold we all have high\nand exalted ideas. How do you know but that God said \"streets of gold\"\nin order to convey to us the highest ideal our minds could conceive of\nbeauty? It doesn't make any difference whether the gold on the streets\nin heaven is literal or not. What difference does it make whether the\nfire in hell is literal or not? When we talk about fire everybody\nshrinks from it. Suppose God used that term as figurative to convey to\nyou the terror of hell. You are a fool to test the reality of it. It\nmust be an awful place if God loved us well enough to give Jesus to\nkeep us out of there. I don't want to go there.\n\n\nPreparing for Eternity\n\nI said to a fellow one time, \"Don't you think that possibly there is a\nhell?\"\n\nHe said, \"Well, yes, possibly there may be a hell.\"\n\nI said, \"It's pretty good sense, then, to get ready for the maybe.\"\nWell, just suppose there is a hell. It's good sense to get ready,\nthen, even for the \"maybe.\" I don't look like a man that would die\nvery quickly, do I? I have just as good a physique as you ever gazed\nat. I wouldn't trade with any man I know. A lot of you fellows are\nstronger than I, but I have as good a physique as ever you looked at.\nI have been preaching at this pace for fourteen years, and I've stood\nit, although I begin to feel myself failing a little bit. But I don't\nlook like a man who would die quickly, do I? But I may die, and on that\npossibility I carry thousands of dollars of life insurance. I don't\nbelieve that any man does right to himself, his wife or his children\nif he doesn't provide for them with life insurance, so when he is gone\nthey will not be thrown upon the charity of the world. And next to\nmy faith, if I should die tonight, that which would give me the most\ncomfort would be the knowledge that I have in a safe deposit vault in\nChicago life insurance papers, paid up to date, and my wife could cash\nin and she and the babies could listen to the wolves howl for a good\nmany years. I don't expect to die soon, but I may die, and on that\n\"may\" I carry thousands of dollars in life insurance.\n\nI take a train to go home, I don't expect the train to be wrecked, but\nit may be wrecked, and on that \"maybe\" I carry $10,000 a year in an\naccident policy. It may go in the ditch. That's good sense to get ready\nfor the \"maybe.\" Are you a business man? Do you carry insurance on your\nstock? Yes. On the building? Yes. Do you expect it to burn? No, sir.\nBut it may burn, so you are ready for it. Every ship is compelled, by\nlaw, to carry life-preservers and life-boats equal to the passenger\ncapacity. They don't expect the ship to sink, but it may sink and they\nare ready for the \"may.\" All right. There may be a hell. I'm ready;\nwhere do you get off at? I have you beat any way you can look at it.\n\nSuppose there is no hell? Suppose that when we die that ends it? I\ndon't believe it does. I believe there is a hell and I believe there is\na heaven, and just the kind of a heaven and hell that book says. But\nsuppose there is no hell? Suppose death is eternal sleep? I believe the\nBible; I believe its teachings; I have the best of you in this life. I\nwill live longer, be happier, and have lost nothing by believing and\nobeying the Bible, even if there is no hell. But suppose there is a\nhell? Then I'm saved and you are the fool. I have you beat again.\n\n\"What shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?\" What\nwill some do? Some will be stoical, some will whimper, some will turn\nfor human sympathy. Let God answer the question. You would quarrel with\nme. \"A lake of fire\" and \"a furnace of fire.\" \"In hell he lifted up\nhis eyes, being in torment.\" \"Eternal damnation.\" \"The smoke of their\ntorment ascendeth forever and ever.\" Let God answer the question. \"What\nshall be the end of them that obey not the gospel of God?\" Will you\nsay, \"God, I didn't have time enough\"? \"Behold! Now is the accepted\ntime.\" Will you say, \"God, I had no light?\" But \"light is come into the\nworld, and men love darkness rather than light.\"\n\nI stand on the shores of eternity and cry out, \"Eternity! Eternity! How\nlong, how long art thou?\" Back comes the answer, \"How long?\"\n\n    \"How long sometimes a day appears and weeks, how long are they?\n    They move as if the months and years would never pass away;\n    But months and years are passing by, and soon must all be gone,\n    Day by day, as the moments fly, eternity comes on.\n    All these must have an end; eternity has none,\n    It will always have as long to run as when it first begun.\"\n\n\"What shall be the end of them that obey not the Gospel of God?\"\n\nWhen Voltaire, the famous infidel, lay dying, he summoned the physician\nand said, \"Doctor, I will give you all I have to save my life six\nmonths.\"\n\nThe doctor said, \"You can't live six hours.\"\n\nThen said Voltaire, \"I'll go to hell and you'll go with me.\"\n\n\nA Leap in the Dark\n\nHobbes, the famous English infidel, said: \"I am taking a leap into the\nnight.\"\n\nWhen King Charles IX, who gave the order for the massacre of St.\nBartholomew's day, when blood ran like water and 130,000 fell dead,\nwhen King Charles lay dying, he cried out, \"O God, how will it end?\nBlood, blood, rivers of blood. I am lost!\" And with a shriek he leaped\ninto hell.\n\nKing Philip of Spain said; \"I wish to God I had never lived,\" and then\nin a sober thought he said: \"Yes, I wish I had, but that I had lived in\nthe fear and love of God.\"\n\nWesley said, \"I shall be satisfied when I awake in His likeness.\"\n\nFlorence A. Foster said, \"Mother, the hilltops are covered with angels;\nthey beckon me homeward; I bid you good-bye.\"\n\nFrances E. Willard cried, \"How beautiful to die and be with God.\"\n\nMoody cried: \"Earth recedes, heaven opens, God is calling me. This is\nto be my coronation day.\"\n\nGoing to the World's Fair in Chicago, a special train on the Grand\nTrunk, going forty miles an hour, dashed around a curve at Battle\nCreek, and headed in on a sidetrack where a freight train stood. The\nrear brakeman had forgotten to close the switch and the train rounded\nthe curve, dashed into the open switch and struck the freight train\nloaded with iron, and there was an awful wreck. The cars telescoped\nand the flames rushed out. Pinioned in the wreck, with steel girders\nbent around her, was a woman who lived in New York. Her name was Mrs.\nVan Dusen. She removed her diamond ear-rings, took her gold watch\nand chain from about her neck, slipped her rings from her fingers\nand handing out her purse gave her husband's address, and then said:\n\"Gentlemen, stand back! I am a Christian and I will die like a\nChristian.\"\n\nThey leaped to their task. They tore like demons to liberate her and\nshe started to sing,\n\n    \"My heavenly home is bright and fair.\n    I'm going to die no more.\"\n\nStrong men, who had looked into the cannon's mouth, fainted. She cried\nout, above the roar of the wind and the shrieks of the dying men, \"Oh,\nmen, don't imperil your lives for me. I am a Christian and I will\ndie like a Christian! Stand back, men,\" and then she began to sing,\n\"Nearer, My God, to Thee.\"\n\n\n\"The End Thereof\"\n\n\"There is a way that seemeth right unto man, but the end thereof are\nthe ways of death.\" Moses may have made some mistakes, but I want to\ntell you Moses never made a mistake when he wrote these words: \"Their\nrock is not as our Rock, even our enemies themselves being the judges.\"\nHe never made a mistake when he wrote these words. I say to you, you\nare going to live on and on until the constellations of the heavens are\nsnuffed out. You are going to live on and on until the rocks crumble\ninto dust through age. You are going to live on and on and on, until\nthe mountain peaks are incinerated and blown by the breath of God to\nthe four corners of infinity. \"What shall the end be?\" Listen! Listen!\n\nI used to live in Pennsylvania and of the many wonderful things for\nwhich this wonderful state has been noted, not the least is the fact\nthat most always she has had godly men for governors, and one of\nthe most magnificent examples of godly piety that ever honored this\nstate was Governor Pollock. When he was governor, a young man, in\na drunken brawl, shot a companion. He was tried and sentenced to be\nexecuted. They circulated a petition, brought it to Harrisburg to the\ngovernor, and the committee that waited upon the governor, among them\nsome of his own friends, pleaded with him to commute the sentence to\nlife imprisonment. Governor Pollock listened to their pleadings and\nsaid, \"Gentlemen, I can't do it. The law must take its course.\" Then\nthe ministers--Catholic and Protestant--brought a petition, and among\nthe committee was the governor's own pastor. He approached him in\nearnestness, put a hand on either shoulder, begged, prayed to God to\ngive him wisdom to grant the request. Governor Pollock listened to\ntheir petition, tears streamed down his cheeks and he said, \"Gentlemen,\nI can't do it. I can't; I can't.\"\n\nAt last the boy's mother came. Her eyes were red, her cheeks sunken,\nher lips ashen, her hair disheveled, her clothing unkempt, her body\ntottering from the loss of food and sleep. Broken-hearted, she reeled,\nstaggered and dragged herself into the presence of the governor. She\npleaded for her boy. She said, \"Oh, governor, let me die. Oh, governor,\nlet him go; let me behind the bars. Oh, governor, I beg of you to let\nmy boy go; don't, don't hang him!\" And Governor Pollock listened. She\nstaggered to his side, put her arms around him. He took her arms from\nhis shoulder, held her at arms' length, looked into her face and said\nto her: \"Mother, mother, I can't do it, I can't,\" and he ran from her\npresence. She screamed and fell to the floor and they carried her out.\n\nGovernor Pollock said to his secretary, \"John, if I can't pardon him\nI can tell him how to die.\" He went to the cell, opened God's Word,\nprayed, talked of Jesus. Heaven bent near, the angels waited, and then\non lightning wing sped back to glory with the glad tidings that a soul\nwas born again. And the governor left, wishing him well for the ordeal.\nShortly after he had gone, the prisoner said to the watchman, \"Who was\nthat man that talked and prayed with me?\" He said, \"Great God, man,\ndon't you know? That was Governor Pollock.\" He threw his hands to his\nhead and cried: \"My God! My God! The governor here and I didn't know\nit? Why didn't you tell me that was the governor and I would have\nthrown my arms about him, buried my fingers in his flesh and would have\nsaid, 'Governor, I'll not let you go unless you pardon me; I'll not\nlet you go.'\" A few days later, when he stood at the scaffold, feet\nstrapped, hands tied, noose about his neck, black cap and shroud on,\njust before the trap was sprung he cried, \"My God! The governor there\nand I--\" He shot down.\n\nYou can't stand before God in the Judgment and say, \"Jesus, were you\ndown there in the tabernacle? In my home? In my lodge? Did you want to\nsave me?\" Behold! Behold! A greater than the governor is here. Jesus\nChrist, the Son of God, and he waits to be gracious.\n\n\"What shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nOur Long Home\n\n Don't let God hang a \"For Rent\" sign on the mansion that has been\n prepared for you in heaven.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nVivid, literal and comforting, is Sunday's portrayal of the Christian's\nlong home. He is one of the few preachers who depict heaven so that\nit ministers to earth. Countless thousands of Christians have been\ncomforted by his realistic pictures of \"the land that is fairer than\nday.\"\n\n\n\"HEAVEN\"\n\nWhat do I want most of all? A man in Chicago said to me one day, \"If I\ncould have all I wanted of any one thing I would take money.\" He would\nbe a fool, and so would you if you would make a similar choice. There's\nlots of things money can't do. Money can't buy life; money can't buy\nhealth. Andrew Carnegie says, \"Anyone who can assure men ten years of\nlife can name his price.\"\n\nIf you should meet with an accident which would require a surgical\noperation or your life would be despaired of, there is not a man here\nbut would gladly part with all the money he has if that would give him\nthe assurance that he could live twelve months longer.\n\nIf you had all the money in the world you couldn't go to the graveyard\nand put those loved ones back in your arms and have them sit once more\nin the family circle and hear their voices and listen to their prattle.\n\n[Illustration: \"HA! HA! OLD SKEPTIC, I'VE GOT YOU BEAT.\"]\n\nA steamer tied up at her wharf, having just returned from an\nexpedition, and as the people walked down the plank their friends met\nthem to congratulate them on their success or encourage them through\ntheir defeat. Down came a man I used to know in Fargo, S. D. Friends\nrushed up and said, \"Why, we hear that you were very fortunate.\"\n\n\"Yes, wife and I left here six months ago with hardly anything. Now we\nhave $350,000 in gold dust in the hold of the ship.\"\n\nThen somebody looked around and said, \"Mr. L----, where is your little\nboy?\"\n\nThe tears rolled down his cheeks and he said, \"We left him buried on\nthe banks of the Yukon beneath the snow and ice, and we would gladly\npart with all the gold, if we only had our boy.\"\n\nBut all the wealth of the Klondike could not open the grave and put\nthat child back in their arms. Money can't buy the peace of God that\npasseth understanding. Money can't take the sin out of your life.\n\nIs there any particular kind of life you would like? If you could live\none hundred years you wouldn't want to die, would you? I wouldn't. I\nthink there is always something the matter with a fellow that wants to\ndie. I want to stay as long as God will let me stay, but when God's\ntime comes for me to go I'm ready, any hour of the day or night. God\ncan waken me at midnight or in the morning and I'm ready to respond.\nBut if I could live a million years I'd like to stay. I don't want to\ndie. I'm having a good time. God made this world for us to have a good\ntime in. It's nothing but sin that has damned the world and brought\nit to misery and corruption. God wants you to have a good time. Well,\nthen, how can I get this life that you want and everybody wants,\neternal life?\n\nIf you are ill the most natural thing for you to do is to go for your\ndoctor. You say, \"I don't want to die. Can you help me?\"\n\nHe looks at you and says, \"I have a hundred patients on my hands, all\nasking the same thing. Not one of them wants to die. They ask me to use\nmy skill and bring to bear all I have learned, but I can't fight back\ndeath. I can prescribe for your malady, but I can't prevent death.\"\n\n\"I, Too, Must Die\"\n\nWell, go to your philosopher. He it is that reasons out the problems\nand mysteries of life by the application of reason. Say to him, \"Good\nphilosopher, I have come to you for help. I want to live forever and\nyou say that you have the touch-stone of philosophy and that you can\ndescribe and solve. Can you help me?\"\n\nHe says to you, \"Young man, my hair and my beard have grown longer and\nas white as snow, my eyes are dim, my brows are wrinkled, my form bent\nwith the weight of years, my bones are brittle and I am just as far\nfrom the solution of that mystery and problem as when I started. I,\ntoo, sir, must soon die and sleep beneath the sod.\"\n\nIn my imagination I have stood by the bedside of the dying\nPullman-palace-car magnate, George M. Pullman, whose will was probated\nat $25,000,000, and I have said, \"Oh, Mr. Pullman, you will not die,\nyou can bribe death.\" And I see the pupils of his eyes dilate, his\nbreast heaves, he gasps--and is no more. The undertaker comes and\nmakes an incision in his left arm, pumps in the embalming fluid,\nbeneath whose mysterious power he turns as rigid as ice, and as white\nas alabaster, and they put his embalmed body in the rosewood coffin,\ntrimmed with silver and gold, and then they put that in a hermetically\nsealed casket.\n\nThe grave-diggers go to Graceland Cemetery, on the shore of Lake\nMichigan, and dig his grave in the old family lot, nine feet wide, and\nthey put in there Portland cement four and a half feet thick, while it\nis yet soft, pliable and plastic. A set of workmen drop down into the\ngrave a steel cage with steel bars one inch apart. They bring his body,\nin the hermetically sealed casket all wrapped about with cloth, and\nthey lower it into the steel cage, and a set of workmen put steel bars\nacross the top and another put concrete and a solid wall of masonry\nand they bring it up within eighteen inches of the surface; they put\nback the black loamy soil, then they roll back the sod and with a\nwhisk broom and dust pan they sweep up the dirt, and you would never\nknow that there sleeps the Pullman-palace-car magnate, waiting for the\ntrumpet of Gabriel to sound; for the powers of God will snap his steel,\ncemented sarcophagus as though it were made of a shell and he will\nstand before God as any other man.\n\nWhat does your money amount to? What does your wealth amount to?\n\nI summon the three electrical wizards of the world to my bedside and\nI say, \"Gentlemen, I want to live and I have sent for you to come,\"\nand they say to me, \"Mr. Sunday, we will flash messages across the sea\nwithout wires; we can illuminate the homes and streets of your city and\ndrive your trolley cars and we can kill men with electricity, but we\ncan't prolong life.\"\n\nAnd I summon the great Queen Elizabeth, queen of an empire upon which\nthe sun never sets. Three thousand dresses hung in her wardrobe. Her\njewels were measured by the peck. Dukes, kings, earls fought for her\nsmiles. I stand by her bedside and I hear her cry \"All my possessions\nfor one moment of time!\"\n\nI go to Alexander the Great, who won his first battle when he was\neighteen, and was King of Macedonia when he was twenty. He sat down on\nthe shore of the \u00c6gean sea, wrapped the drapery of his couch about him\nand lay down to eternal sleep, the conqueror of all the known world,\nwhen he was thirty-five years of age.\n\nI go to Napoleon Bonaparte. Victor Hugo called him the archangel of\nwar. He arose in the air of the nineteenth century like a meteor. His\nsun rose at Austerlitz; it set at Waterloo. He leaped over the slain of\nhis countrymen to be first consul; and then he vaulted to the throne\nof the emperor of France. But it was the cruel wanton achievement of\ninsatiate and unsanctified ambition and it led to the barren St. Helena\nisle. As the storm beat upon the rock, once more he fought at the head\nof his troops at Austerlitz, at Mt. Tabor, and the Pyramids. Once more\nhe cried, \"I'm still the head of the army,\" and he fell back, and the\ngreatest warrior the world has known since the days of Joshua, was no\nmore. Tonight on the banks of the Seine he lies in his magnificent\ntomb, with his marshals sleeping where he can summon them, and the\nbattle flags he made famous draped around him, and from the four\ncorners of the earth students and travelers turn aside to do homage to\nthe great military genius.\n\nI want to show you the absolute and utter futility of pinning your hope\nto a lot of fool things that will damn your soul to hell. There is\nonly one way: \"As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even\nso must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in him\nshould not perish, but have eternal life. For God so loved the world\nthat he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him\nshould not perish, but have everlasting life.\" Search the annals of\ntime and the pages of history and where do you find promises like that?\nOnly upon the pages of the Bible do you find them.\n\nYou want to live and so do I. You want eternal life and so do I, and\nI want you to have it. The next question I want to ask is, how can\nyou get it? You have seen things that won't give it to you. How can\nyou get it? All you have tonight or ever will have you will come into\npossession of in one of three ways--honestly, dishonestly, or as a\ngift. Honestly: You will work and sweat and therefore give an honest\nequivalent for what you get. Dishonestly: You will steal. Third, as a\ngift, you will inherit it. And eternal life must come to you in one of\nthese three ways.\n\n\nNo Substitute for Religion\n\nA great many people believe in a high moral standard. They deal\nhonestly in business and are charitable, but if you think that is going\nto save you, you are the most mistaken man on God's earth, and you will\nbe the biggest disappointed being that ever lived. You can't hire a\nsubstitute in religion. You can't do some deed of kindness or act of\nphilanthropy and substitute that for the necessity of repentance and\nfaith in Jesus Christ. Lots of people will acknowledge their sin in\nthe world, struggle on without Jesus Christ, and do their best to live\nhonorable, upright lives. Your morality will make you a better man or\nwoman, but it will never save your soul in the world.\n\nSupposing you had an apple tree that produced sour apples and you\nwanted to change the nature of it, and you would ask the advice of\npeople. One would say prune it, and you would buy a pruning hook and\ncut off the superfluous limbs. You gather the apples and they are still\nsour. Another man says to fertilize it, and you fertilize it and still\nit doesn't change the nature of it. Another man says spray it to kill\nthe caterpillars, but the apples are sour just the same. Another man\nsays introduce a graft of another variety.\n\nWhen I was a little boy, one day my grandfather said to me: \"Willie,\ncome on,\" and he took a ladder, and beeswax, a big jackknife, a saw and\nsome cloth, and we went into the valley. He leaned the ladder against a\nsour crab-apple tree, climbed up and sawed off some of the limbs, split\nthem and shoved in them some little pear sprouts as big as my finger\nand twice as long, and around them he tied a string and put in some\nbeeswax. I said, \"Grandpa, what are you doing?\" He said, \"I'm grafting\npear sprouts into the sour crab.\" I said, \"What will grow, crab apples\nor pears?\" He said, \"Pears; I don't know that I'll ever live to eat the\npear--I hope I may--but I know you will.\" I lived to see those sprouts\nwhich were no longer than my finger grow as large as any limb and I\nclimbed the tree and picked and ate the pears. He introduced a graft of\nanother variety and that changed the nature of the tree.\n\nAnd so you can't change yourself with books. That which is flesh is\nflesh, no matter whether it is cultivated flesh, or ignorant flesh or\ncommon, ordinary flesh. That which is flesh is flesh, and all your\nlodges, all your money on God Almighty's earth can never change your\nnature. Never. That's got to come by and through repentance and faith\nin Jesus Christ. That's the only way you will ever get it changed. We\nhave more people with fool ways trying to get into heaven, and there's\nonly one way to do and that is by and through repentance and faith in\nJesus Christ.\n\nHere are two men. One man born with hereditary tendencies toward bad, a\nbad father, a bad mother and bad grandparents. He has bad blood in his\nveins and he turns as naturally to sin as a duck to water. There he is,\ndown and out, a booze fighter and the off-scouring scum of the earth.\nI go to him in his squalor and want and unhappiness, and say to him:\n\"God has included all that sin that he may have mercy on all. All have\nsinned and come short of the glory of God. Will you accept Jesus Christ\nas your Saviour?\"\n\n\"Whosoever cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out,\" and that man\nsays to me, \"No, I don't want your Christ as my Saviour.\"\n\nHere is a man with hereditary tendencies toward good, a good father,\na good mother, good grandparents, lived in a good neighborhood, was\ntaught to go to Sunday school and has grown up to be a good, earnest,\nupright, virtuous, responsible business man; his name is synonymous\nwith all that is pure and kind, and true. His name is as good as a\ngovernment bond at any bank for a reasonable amount. Everybody respects\nhim. He is generous, charitable and kind. I go to your high-toned,\ncultured, respectable man and say to him: \"God hath included all under\nsin that he might have mercy upon all. All have sinned and come short\nof the glory of God. Whosoever cometh unto me I will in no wise cast\nout. Will you accept Jesus Christ as your Saviour? Will you give me\nyour hand?\" He says: \"No, sir; I don't want your Christ.\"\n\nWhat's the difference between those two men? Absolutely none. They are\nboth lost. Both are going to hell. God hasn't one way of saving the\none and another way of saving the other fellow. God will save that man\nif he accepts Christ and he will do the same for the other fellow. That\nman is a sinner and this man is a sinner. That man is lower in sin than\nthis man, but they both say, \"No\" to Jesus Christ and they are both\nlost or God is a liar.\n\nYou don't like it? I don't care a rap whether you do or not. You'll\ntake it or go to hell. Stop doing what you think will save you and do\nwhat God says will save you.\n\n\nMorality Not Enough\n\nMorality doesn't save anybody. Your culture doesn't save you. I don't\ncare who you are or how good you are, if you reject Jesus Christ you\nare doomed. God hasn't one plan of salvation for the millionaire and\nanother for the hobo. He has the same plan for everybody. God isn't\ngoing to ask you whether you like it or not, either. He isn't going to\nask you your opinion of his plan. There it is and we'll have to take it\nas God gives it.\n\nYou come across a lot of fools who say there are hypocrites in the\nChurch. What difference does that make? Are you the first person that\nhas found that out and are you fool enough to go to hell because they\nare going to hell? If you are, don't come to me and expect me to think\nyou have any sense. Not at all. Not for a minute.\n\nA good many people attend church because it adds a little bit to their\nrespectability. That is proof positive to me that the Gospel is a good\nthing. This is a day when good things are counterfeited. You never saw\nanybody counterfeiting brown paper. No, it isn't worth it. You have\nseen them counterfeiting Christians? Yes. You have seen counterfeit\nmoney? Yes. You never saw a counterfeit infidel. They counterfeit\nreligion. Certainly. A hypocrite is a counterfeit.\n\nBut there is one class of these people that I haven't very much respect\nfor. They are so good, so very good, that they are absolutely good for\nnothing. A woman came to me and said: \"Mr. Sunday, I haven't sinned in\nten years.\"\n\nI said: \"You lie, I think.\"\n\nWell, a man says: \"Look here, there must be something in morality,\nbecause so many people trust in it.\" Would vice become virtue because\nmore people follow it? Simply because more people follow it doesn't\nmake a wrong right; not at all.\n\n\nThe Way of Salvation\n\nThere was an old Spaniard, Ponce de Leon, who searched through the\nglades of Florida. He thought away out there in the midst of the\ntropical vegetation was a fountain of perpetual youth, which, if he\ncould only find and dip beneath its water would smooth the wrinkles\nfrom his brow and make his gray hair turn like the raven's wing. Did\nhe ever find it? No, it never existed. It was all imagination. And\nthere are people today searching for something that doesn't exist.\nSalvation doesn't exist in morality, in reformation, in paying your\ndebts. It doesn't exist in being true to your marriage vows. It is only\nby repentance and faith in the atoning blood of Jesus Christ, and some\nof you fellows have searched for it until you are gray-haired, and you\nwill never find it because it only exists in one place--repentance and\nfaith in Jesus Christ.\n\nSupposing I had in one hand a number of kernels of wheat and a number\nof diamonds equal in number and size to the kernels of wheat. I would\nsay: \"Take your choice.\" Nine of ten would take the diamonds. I would\nsay: \"Diamonds are worth more than wheat.\" So they are now, but you\ntake those diamonds, they will never grow, never add. But I can take a\nhandful of wheat, sow it, and, fecundated by the rays of the sun and\nthe moisture, it will grow and in a few years I have what's worth all\nthe diamonds in the world, for wheat contains the power of\n\nlife; wheat can reproduce and diamonds can't; they're not life. A\ndiamond is simply a piece of charcoal changed by the mysterious process\nof nature, but it has no life. Wheat has life. Wheat can grow. You can\ntake a moral man; he may shine and glisten and sparkle like a diamond.\nHe may outshine in his beauty the Christian man. But he will never be\nanything else. His morality can never grow. It has no life, but the\nman who is a Christian has life. He has eternal life. Your morality is\na fine thing until death comes, then it's lost and you are lost. Your\ndiamond is a fine thing to carry until it's lost, and of what value is\nit then? Of what value is your morality when your soul is lost?\n\n[Illustration: \"JUDAS BOUGHT A TICKET TO HELL WITH THIRTY PIECES OF\nSILVER AND IT WASN'T A ROUND TRIP EITHER.\"]\n\nSupposing I go out in the spring and I see two farmers, living across\nthe road from each other. One man plows his field and then harrows and\nputs on the roller, gets it all fine and then plants the corn or drills\nin the oats. I come back in the fall and that man has gathered his crop\ninto the barn and the granaries and has hay stacked around the barn.\n\nThe other fellow is plowing and puts the roller on and gets his ground\nin good shape. I come back in the fall and he is still doing the same\nthing. I say, \"What are you doing?\" He says: \"Well, I believe in a high\nstate of cultivation.\" I say: \"Look at your neighbor, see what he has.\"\n\"A barn full of grain.\" \"Yes.\" \"More stock.\" \"Yes.\" But he says: \"Look\nat the weeds. You don't see any weeds like that on my place. Why, he\nhad to burn the weeds before he could find the potatoes to dig them.\nThe weeds were as big as the corn.\" I said: \"I'll agree with you that\nhe has raised some weeds, but he has raised corn as well.\" What is\nthat ground worth without seed in it? No more than your life is worth\nwithout having Jesus Christ in it. You will starve to death if you\ndon't put seed in the ground. Plowing the ground without putting in the\nseed doesn't amount to a snap of the finger.\n\n\nRewards of Merit\n\nWhen I was a little boy out in Iowa, at the end of the term of school\nit was customary for the teachers to give us little cards, with a\nhand in one corner holding a scroll, and in that scroll was a place\nto write the name: \"Willie Sunday, good boy.\" Willie Sunday never got\nhump-shouldered lugging them home, I can tell you. I never carried off\nthe champion long-distance belt for verse-quoting, either. If you ever\nsaw an American kid, I was one.\n\n[Illustration: \"I FEEL SORRY FOR THE LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY BOYS WITH\nLONG CURLY HAIR AND WHITE STOCKINGS\"]\n\nI feel sorry for the little Lord Fauntleroy boys with long curly hair\nand white stockings. Yank 'em off and let them go barefoot.\n\nA friend of mine told me he was one time being driven along the banks\nof the Hudson and they went past a beautiful farm, and there sitting\non the fence in front of a tree, in which was fastened a mirror about\ntwelve inches square, sat a bird of paradise that was looking into the\nmirror, adjusting his plumage and admiring himself, and the farmer who\nhad driven my friends out said that every time he passed those birds\nwere doing that.\n\nI thought, \"Well, that reminds me of a whole lot of fools I'm fortunate\nenough to meet everywhere. They sit before the mirror of culture, and\ntheir mirror of money, and their mirror of superior education and\nattainments; they are married into some old families. What does God\ncare about that?\" I suppose some of you spent a whole lot of money to\nplant a family tree, but I warrant you keep to the back the limbs on\nwhich some of your ancestors were hanged for stealing horses.\n\nYou are mistaken in God's plan of salvation. Some people seem to think\nGod is like a great big bookkeeper in heaven and that he has a whole\nlot of angels as assistants. Every time you do a good thing he writes\nit down on one page and every time you do a bad deed he writes it down\non the opposite page, and when you die he draws a line and adds them\nup. If you have done more good things than bad, you go to heaven; more\nbad things than good, go to hell. You would be dumfounded how many\npeople have sense about other things that haven't any sense about\nreligion. As though that was God's plan of redemption. Your admission\ninto heaven depends upon your acceptance of Jesus Christ; reject him\nand God says you will be damned.\n\nBack in the time of Noah, I have no doubt there were a lot of good\nfolks. There was Noah. God says: \"Look here, Noah, I'm going to drown\nthis world with a flood and I want you to go to work and make an\nark.\" And Noah started to make it according to God's instructions\nand he pounded, and sawed, and drove nails and worked for 120 years,\nand I have often imagined the comments of the gang in an automobile\ngoing by. They say: \"Look at the old fool Noah building an ark. Does\nhe ever expect God's going to get water enough to flood that?\" Along\ncomes another crowd and one says: \"That Noah bunch is getting daffy\non religion. I think we'd better take them before the commission and\npass upon their sanity.\" Along comes another crowd and they say: \"Well,\nthere's that Noah crowd. I guess we won't invite them to our card party\nafter Lent is over.\" They said: \"Why, they're too religious. We'll just\nlet them alone.\"\n\nNoah paid no heed to their criticism, but went on working until he got\nthrough. God gave the crowd a chance, but they didn't heed. It started\nto rain and it rained and rained until the rivers and creeks leaped\ntheir banks and the lowlands were flooded. Then the people began to\nmove to the hilltops. The water began to creep up the hills. Then I\ncan see the people hurrying off to lumber yards to buy lumber to build\nlittle rafts of their own, for they began to see that Noah wasn't such\na fool after all. The hilltops became inundated and it crept to the\nmountains and the mountains became submerged. Until the flood came that\ncrowd was just as well off as Noah, but when the flood struck them\nNoah was saved and they were lost, because Noah trusted God and they\ntrusted in themselves. You moral men, you may be just as well off as\nthe Christian until death knocks you down, then you are lost, because\nyou trust in your morality. The Christian is saved because he trusts in\nJesus. Do you see where you lose out?\n\n\"Without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin.\" You must\naccept the atonement Christ made by shedding his blood or God will slam\nthe gate of heaven in your face.\n\nSome people, you know, want to wash their sins and they whitewash them,\nbut God wants them white, and there's a lot of difference between being\n\"white-washed\" and \"washed white.\"\n\nSupposing I was at one of your banks this morning and they gave me $25\nin gold. Supposing I would put fifty of your reputable citizens on this\nplatform and they would all substantiate what I say, and supposing\nI would be authorized by bank to say that they would give every man\nand woman that stands in line in front of the bank at 9 o'clock in\nthe morning, $25 in gold. If I could stand up there and make that\nannouncement in this city with confidence in my word, people would line\nthe streets and string away back on the hills, waiting for the bank to\nopen.\n\nI can stand here and tell you that God offers you salvation through\nrepentance and faith in Jesus Christ and that you must accept it or be\nlost, and you will stand up and argue the question, as though your\nargument can change God's plan. You never can do it. Not only has God\npromised you salvation on the grounds of your acceptance of Jesus\nChrist as your Saviour, but he has promised to give you a home in which\nto spend eternity. Listen! \"In my Father's house are many mansions; if\nit were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.\"\nSome people say heaven is a state or condition. I don't believe it. It\nmight possibly be better to be in a heavenly state than in a heavenly\nplace. It might be better to be in hell in a heavenly state than to\nbe in heaven in a hellish state. That may be true. Heaven is as much\na place as the home to which you are going when I dismiss the meeting\nis a place. \"I go to prepare a place for you.\" Heaven is a place where\nthere are going to be some fine folks. Abraham will be there and I'm\ngoing up to see him. Noah, Moses, Joseph, Jacob, Isaiah, Daniel,\nJeremiah the weeping prophet, Paul, John, Peter, James, Samuel, Martin\nLuther, Spurgeon, Calvin, Moody. Oh, heaven is a place where there will\nbe grand and noble people, and all who believe in Jesus will be there.\n\nSuppose instead of turning off the gas at bedtime I blew it out. Then\nwhen Nell and I awoke choking, instead of opening the window and\nturning off the gas I got a bottle of cologne and sprinkled ourselves.\nThe fool principle of trying to overcome the poison of gas with\nperfumery wouldn't work. The next day there would be a coroner's jury\nin the house. Your principle of trying to overcome sin by morality\nwon't work either.\n\nI'm going to meet David and I'll say: \"David, I'm not a U. P., but I\nwish you'd sing the twenty-third psalm for me.\"\n\n\nA Place of Noble People\n\nThe booze fighter won't be in heaven; he is here. The skeptic won't be\nthere; he is here. There'll be nobody to run booze joints or gambling\nhells in heaven. Heaven will be a place of grand and noble people, who\nlove Jesus. The beloved wife will meet her husband. Mother, you will\nmeet your babe again that you have been separated from for months or\nyears. Heaven will be free from everything that curses and damns this\nold world here. Wouldn't this be a grand old world if it weren't for a\nlot of things in it? Can you conceive anything being grander than this\nworld if it hadn't a lot of things in it? The only thing that makes it\na decent place to live in is the religion of Jesus Christ. There isn't\na man that would live in it if you took religion out. Your mills would\nrot on their foundations if there were no Christian people of influence\nhere.\n\nThere will be no sickness in heaven, no pain, no sin, no poverty, no\nwant, no death, no grinding toil. \"There remaineth therefore a rest to\nthe people of God.\" I tell you there are a good many poor men and women\nthat never have any rest. They have had to get up early in the morning\nand work all day, but in heaven there remaineth a rest for the people\nof God. Weary women that start out early to their daily toil, you won't\nhave to get out and toil all day. No toil in heaven, no sickness. \"God\nshall wipe away all tears from their eyes.\" You will not be standing\nwatching with a heart filled with expectation, and doubt, and hope.\nNo watching the undertaker screw the coffin lid over your loved one,\nor watching the pall-bearers carrying out the coffin and hearing the\npreacher say, \"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.\" None of that in heaven.\nHeaven--that is a place He has gone to prepare for those who will do\nhis will and keep his commandments and turn from their sin. Isn't it\ngreat?\n\nEverything will be perfect in heaven. Down here we only know in\npart, but there we will know as we are known. It is a city that hath\nfoundation. Here we have no continuing state. Look at your beautiful\nhomes. You admire them. The next time you go up your avenues and\nstreets look at the homes. But they are going to rot on their\nfoundations. Every one of them. Where are you tonight, old Eternal\nCity of Rome on your seven hills? Where are you? Only a memory of your\nglory. Where have they all gone? The homes will crumble.\n\n\"Enoch walked with God and was not, for God took him.\" That is a\ncomplete biography of Enoch.\n\nElijah was carried to heaven in a chariot of fire and Elisha took up\nthe mantle of the prophet Elijah and smote the Jordan and went back to\nthe seminary where Elijah had taught and told the people there. They\nwould not believe him, and they looked for Elijah, but they found him\nnot. Centuries later it was the privilege of Peter, James and John in\nthe company of Jesus Christ, on the Mount of Transfiguration, to look\ninto the face of that same Elijah who centuries before had walked the\nhilltops and slain four hundred and fifty of the prophets of Baal.\n\n\n\"A Place for You\"\n\nStephen, as they stoned him to death, with his face lighted up saw\nJesus standing on the right of God the Father, the place which he\nhad designated before his crucifixion would be his abiding place\nuntil the fulfilment of the time of the Gentiles in the world. Among\nthe last declarations of Jesus is, \"In my Father's house are many\nmansions.\" What a comfort to the bereaved and afflicted. Not only had\nGod provided salvation through faith in Jesus Christ as a gift from\nGod's outstretched hand, but he provided a home in which you can spend\neternity. He has provided a home for you. Surely, surely, friends,\nfrom the beginning of the history of man, from the time Enoch walked\nwith God and was not, until John on the island of Patmos saw the new\nJerusalem let down by God out of heaven, we have ample proof that\nheaven is a place. Although we cannot see it with the natural eyes,\nit is a place, the dwelling place of God and of the angels and of the\nredeemed through faith in the Son of God.\n\nHe says, \"I go to prepare a place for you.\"\n\nPeople sometimes ask me, \"Who do you think will die first, Mr. Sunday,\nyou or your wife, or your children or your mother?\" I don't know. I\nthink I will. I never expect to be an old man, I work too hard. I burn\nup more energy preaching in an hour than any other man will burn up in\nten or twelve hours. I never expect to live to be an old man. I don't\nexpect to, but I know this much, if my wife or my babies should go\nfirst this old world would be a dark place for me and I would be glad\nwhen God summoned me to leave it; and if I left first I know they would\nbe glad when God called them home. If I go first, I know after I go up\nand take Jesus by the hand and say, \"Jesus, thank you. I'm glad you\nhonored me with the privilege of preaching your Gospel; I wish I could\nhave done it better, but I did my best, and now, Jesus, if you don't\ncare, I'd like to hang around the gate and be the first to welcome\nmy wife and the babies when they come. Do you care, Jesus, if I sit\nthere?\" And he will say, \"No, you can sit right there, Bill, if you\nwant to; it's all right.\" I'll say, \"Thank you, Lord.\"\n\nIf they would go first, I think after they would go up and thank Jesus\nthat they are home, they would say, \"Jesus, I wish you would hurry up\nand bring papa home. He doesn't want to stay down there because we are\nup here.\" They would go around and put their grips away in their room,\nwherever it is, and then they would say, \"Can we sit here, Jesus?\"\n\"Yes, that's all right.\"\n\nI don't know where I'll live when I get to heaven. I don't know whether\nI'll live on a main street or an avenue or a boulevard. I don't know\nwhere I'll live when I get to heaven. I don't know whether it will be\nin the back alley or where, but I'll just be glad to get there. I'll\nbe thankful for the mansion wherever God provides it. I never like\nto think about heaven as a great, big tenement house, where they put\nhundreds of people under one roof, as we do in Chicago or other big\ncities. \"In my Father's house are many mansions.\" And so it will be up\nin heaven, and I'll be glad, awfully glad, and I tell you I think if\nmy wife and children go first, the children might be off some place\nplaying, but wife would be right there, and I would meet her and say,\n\"Why, wife, where are the children?\" She would say, \"Why, they are\nplaying on the banks of the river.\" (We are told about the river that\nflows from the throne of God.) We would walk down and I would say,\n\"Hello, Helen! Hey, George. Hey, Willsky; bring the baby; come on.\" And\nthey would come tearing as they do now.\n\nI would say, \"Now, children, run away and play a little while. I\nhaven't seen mother for a long time and we have lots of things to talk\nabout,\" and I think we would walk away and sit down under a tree and I\nwould put my head in her lap as I do now when my head is tired, and I\nwould say, \"Wife, a whole lot of folks down there in our neighborhood\nin Chicago have died; have they come to heaven?\"\n\n\nThe Missing\n\n\"Well, I don't know. Who has died?\"\n\n\"Mr. S. Is he here?\"\n\n\"I haven't seen him.\"\n\n\"No? His will probated five million. Bradstreet and Dun rated him AaG.\nIsn't he here?\"\n\n\"I haven't seen him.\"\n\n\"Is Mr. J. here?\"\n\n\"I haven't seen him.\"\n\n\"Haven't seen him, wife? That's funny. He left years before I did. Is\nMrs. N. here?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"You know they lived on River street. Her husband paid $8,000 for a lot\nand $60,000 for a house. He paid $2,000 for a bathroom. Mosaic floor\nand the finest of fixtures. You know, wife, she always came to church\nlate and would drive up in her carriage, and she would sweep down the\naisle and you would think all the perfume of Arabia had floated in,\nand she had diamonds in her ears as big as pebbles. Is she here?\"\n\n\"I haven't seen her.\"\n\n\"Well! Well! Well! Is Aunty Griffith here?\"\n\n\"Yes; aunty lives next to us.\"\n\n\"I knew she would be here. God bless her heart! She had two big\nlazy, drunken louts of boys that didn't care for her, and the church\nsupported her for sixteen years to my knowledge and they put her in the\nhome for old people. Hello, yonder she comes. How are you, Aunty?\"\n\nShe will say, \"How are you, William?\"\n\n\"I'm first rate.\"\n\n\"Mon, ye look natural just the same.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And when did ye leave Chicago, Wally?\"\n\n\"Last night, Aunty.\"\n\n\"I'm awfully glad to see you, and, Wally, I live right next door to\nyou, mon.\"\n\n\"Good, Aunty, I knew God would let you in. My, where's mother, wife?\"\n\n\"She's here.\"\n\n\"I know she's here; I wish she would come. Helen, is that mother coming\ndown the hill?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nI would say, \"Have you seen Fred, or Rody, or Peacock, or Ackley, or\nany of them?\"\n\n\"Yes. They live right around near us.\"\n\n\"George, you run down and tell Fred I've come, will you? Hunt up Rody,\nand Peacock and Ackley and Fred, and see if you can find Frances around\nthere and tell them I've just come in.\" And they would come and I would\nsay, \"How are you? Glad to see you. Feeling first-rate.\"\n\nAnd, oh, what a time we'll have in heaven. In heaven they never mar\nthe hillsides with spades, for they dig no graves. In heaven they\nnever telephone for the doctor, for nobody gets sick. In heaven no\none carries handkerchiefs, for nobody cries. In heaven they never\ntelephone for the undertaker, for nobody dies. In heaven you will never\nsee a funeral procession going down the street, nor cr\u00eape hanging\nfrom the doorknob. In heaven, none of the things that enter your home\nhere will enter there. Sickness won't get in; death won't get in, nor\nsorrow, because \"Former things are passed away,\" all things have become\nnew. In heaven the flowers never fade, the winter winds and blasts\nnever blow. The rivers never congeal, never freeze, for it never gets\ncold. No, sir.\n\nSay, don't let God be compelled to hang a \"For Rent\" sign in the window\nof the mansion he has prepared for you. I would walk around with him\nand I'd say, \"Whose mansion is that, Jesus?\"\n\n\"Why, I had that for one of the rich men, but he passed it up.\"\n\n\"Who's that one for?\"\n\n\"That was for a doctor, but he did not take it.\"\n\n\"That was for one of the school teachers, but she didn't come.\"\n\n\"Who is that one for, Jesus?\"\n\n\"That was for a society man, but he didn't want it.\"\n\n\"Who is that one for?\"\n\n\"That was for a booze fighter, but he wouldn't pass up the business.\"\n\nDon't let God hang a \"For Rent\" sign in the mansion that he has\nprepared for you. Just send up word and say, \"Jesus, I've changed\nmy mind; just put my name down for that, will you? I'm coming. I'm\ncoming.\" \"In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so I\nwould have told you; I go to prepare a place for you.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nGlorying in the Cross\n\n It's Jesus Christ or nothing.--BILLY SUNDAY.\n\n\nPauline in more than one characteristic is Billy Sunday. But in none so\nmuch as in his devotion to the cross of Jesus Christ. His life motto\nmay well be Paul's, \"I am resolved to know nothing among you, save\nJesus Christ and him crucified.\" His preaching is entirely founded\non the message that \"the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all\nsin.\" There are no modern theories of the atonement in his utterances.\nTo the learned of the world, as to the Greeks of old, the Cross may\nseem foolishness, but Sunday knows and preaches it as the power of\nGod unto salvation. As his closing and most characteristic message\nto the readers of this book we commend his sermon on \"Christ and him\ncrucified.\"\n\n\n\"ATONEMENT\"\n\n\"For if the blood of bulls and of goats and the ashes of an heifer\nsprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the\nflesh\"--Paul argued in his letter to the Hebrews--\"how much more shall\nthe blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself\nwithout spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the\nliving God.\"\n\nNo more of this turtle-dove business, no more offering the blood of\nbullocks and heifers to cleanse from sin.\n\nThe atoning blood of Jesus Christ--that is the thing about which\nall else centers. I believe that more logical, illogical, idiotic,\nreligious and irreligious arguments have been fought over this than all\nothers. Now and then when a man gets a new idea of it he goes out and\nstarts a new denomination. He has a perfect right to do this under\nthe thirteenth amendment, but he doesn't stop here. He makes war on\nall of the other denominations that do not interpret as he does. Our\ndenominations have multiplied by this method until it would give one\nbrain fever to try to count them all.\n\nThe atoning blood! And as I think it over I am reminded of a man who\ngoes to England and advertises that he will throw pictures on the\nscreen of the Atlantic coast of America. So he gets a crowd and throws\npictures on the screen of high bluffs and rocky coasts and waves\ndashing against them until a man comes out of the audience and brands\nhim a liar and says that he is obtaining money under false pretense,\nas he has seen America and the Atlantic coast and what the other man\nis showing is not America at all. The men almost come to blows and\nthen the other man says that if the people will come tomorrow he will\nshow them real pictures of the coast. So the audience comes back to\nsee what he will show, and he flashes on the screen pictures of a low\ncoast line, with palmetto trees and banana trees and tropical foliage\nand he apologizes to the audience, but says these are the pictures of\nAmerica. The first man calls him a liar and the people don't know which\nto believe. What was the matter with them?\n\nThey were both right and they were both wrong, paradoxical as it may\nseem. They were both right as far as they went, but neither went far\nenough. The first showed the coast line from New England to Cape\nHatteras, while the second showed the coast line from Hatteras to\nYucatan. They neither could show it all in one panoramic view, for it\nis so varied it could not be taken in one picture. God never intended\nto give you a picture of the world in one panoramic view. From the time\nof Adam and Eve down to the time Jesus Christ hung on the cross he was\nunfolding his views. When I see Moses leading the people out of bondage\nwhere they for years had bared their backs to the taskmaster's lash;\nwhen I see the lowing herds and the high priest standing before the\naltar severing the jugular vein of the rams and the bullocks on until\nChrist cried out from the cross, \"It is finished,\" God was preparing\nthe picture for the consummation of it in the atoning blood of Jesus\nChrist.\n\nA sinner has no standing with God. He forfeits his standing when he\ncommits sin and the only way he can get back is to repent and accept\nthe atoning blood of Jesus Christ.\n\nI have sometimes thought that Adam and Eve didn't understand as fully\nas we do when the Lord said, \"Eat and you shall surely die.\" They\nhad never seen any one die. They might have thought it simply meant\na separation from God. But no sooner had they eaten and seen their\nnakedness than they sought to cover themselves, and it is the same\ntoday. When man sees himself in his sins, uncovered, he tries to cover\nhimself in philosophy or some fake. But God looked through the fig\nleaves and the foliage and God walked out in the field and slew the\nbeasts and took their skins and wrapped them around Adam and Eve, and\nfrom that day to this when a man has been a sinner and has covered\nhimself it has been by and through faith in the shed blood of Jesus\nChrist. Every Jew covered his sins and received pardon through the\nblood of the rams and bullocks and the doves.\n\nAn old infidel said to me once, \"But I don't believe in atonement by\nblood. It doesn't come up to my ideas of what is right.\"\n\nI said, \"To perdition with your ideas of what is right. Do you think\nGod is coming down here to consult you with your great intellect and\nwonderful brain, and find out what you think is right before he does\nit?\" My, but you make me sick. You think that because you don't believe\nit that it isn't true.\n\nI have read a great deal--not everything, mind you, for a man would\ngo crazy if he tried to read everything--but I have read a great\ndeal that has been written against the atonement from the infidel\nstandpoint--Voltaire, Huxley, Spencer, Diderot, Bradlaugh, Paine, on\ndown to Bob Ingersoll--and I have never found an argument that would\nstand the test of common sense and common reasoning. And if anyone\ntells me he has tossed on the scrap heap the plan of atonement by blood\nI say, \"What have you to offer that is better?\" and until he can show\nme something that is better I'll nail my hopes to the cross.\n\n\nSuffering for the Guilty\n\nYou say you don't believe in the innocent suffering for the guilty.\nThen I say to you, you haven't seen life as I have seen it up and down\nthe country. The innocent suffer with the guilty, by the guilty and for\nthe guilty. Look at that old mother waiting with trembling heart for\nthe son she has brought into the world. And see him come staggering\nin and reeling and staggering to bed while his mother prays and weeps\nand soaks the pillow with her tears over her godless boy. Who suffers\nmost? The mother or that godless, maudlin bum? You have only to be the\nmother of a boy like that to know who suffers most. Then you won't say\nanything about the plan of redemption and of Jesus Christ suffering for\nthe guilty.\n\nLook at that young wife, waiting for the man whose name she bears, and\nwhose face is woven in the fiber of her heart, the man she loves. She\nwaits for him in fright and when he comes, reeking from the stench of\nthe breaking of his marriage vows, from the arms of infamy, who suffers\nmost? That poor, dirty, triple extract of vice and sin? You have only\nto be the wife of a husband like that to know whether the innocent\nsuffers for the guilty or not. I have the sympathy of those who know\nright now.\n\nThis happened in Chicago in a police court. A letter was introduced as\nevidence for a criminal there for vagrancy. It read, \"I hope you won't\nhave to hunt long to find work. Tom is sick and baby is sick. Lucy has\nno shoes and we have no money for the doctor or to buy any clothes. I\nmanage to make a little taking in washing, but we are living in one\nroom in a basement. I hope you won't have to look long for work,\" and\nso on, just the kind of a letter a wife would write to her husband.\nAnd before it was finished men cried and policemen with hearts of\nadamant were crying and fled from the room. The judge wiped the tears\nfrom his eyes and said: \"You see, no man lives to himself alone. If he\nsins others suffer. I have no alternative. I sympathize with them, as\ndoes every one of you, but I have no alternative. I must send this man\nto Bridewell.\" Who suffers most, that woman manicuring her nails over\na washboard to keep the little brood together or that drunken bum in\nBridewell getting his just deserts from his acts? You have only to be\nthe wife of a man like that to know whether or not the innocent suffer\nwith the guilty.\n\nSo when you don't like the plan of redemption because the innocent\nsuffer with the guilty, I say you don't know what is going on. It's the\nplan of life everywhere.\n\nFrom the fall of Adam and Eve till now it has always been the rule that\nthe innocent suffer with the guilty. It's the plan of all and unless\nyou are an idiot, an imbecile and a jackass, and gross flatterer at\nthat, you'll see it.\n\n\nJesus' Atoning Blood\n\nJesus gave his life on the cross for any who will believe. We're not\nredeemed by silver or gold. Jesus paid for it with his blood. When some\none tells you that your religion is a bloody religion and the Bible\nis a bloody book, tell them yes, Christianity is a bloody religion,\nthe gospel is a bloody gospel, the Bible is a bloody book, the plan of\nredemption is bloody. It is. You take the blood of Jesus Christ out of\nChristianity and that book isn't worth the paper it is written on. It\nwould be worth no more than your body with the blood taken out. Take\nthe blood of Jesus Christ out and it would be a meaningless jargon and\njumble of words.\n\nIf it weren't for the atoning blood you might as well rip the roofs off\nthe churches and burn them down. They aren't worth anything. But as\nlong as the blood is on the mercy seat the sinner can return, and by\nno other way. There is nothing else. It stands for the redemption. You\nare not redeemed by silver or gold, but by the blood of Jesus Christ.\nThough a man says to read good books, do good deeds, live a good life\nand you'll be saved, you'll be damned. That's what you will. All the\nbooks in the world won't keep you out of hell without the atoning blood\nof Jesus Christ. It's Jesus Christ or nothing for every sinner on God's\nearth.\n\n[Illustration: \"SAY, BOSS, WHY DIDN'T YOU CHUCK THAT NICKEL IN THE\nSEWER?\"]\n\nWithout it not a sinner will ever be saved. Jesus has paid for your\nsins with his blood. The doctrine of universal salvation is a lie. I\nwish every one would be saved, but they won't. You will never be saved\nif you reject the blood.\n\nI remember when I was in the Y. M. C. A. in Chicago I was going down\nMadison Street and had just crossed Dearborn Street when I saw a\nnewsboy with a young sparrow in his hand. I said: \"Let that little bird\ngo.\"\n\nHe said, \"Aw, g'wan with you, you big mutt.\"\n\nI said, \"I'll give you a penny for it,\" and he answered, \"Not on your\ntintype.\"\n\n\"I'll give you a nickel for it,\" and he answered, \"Boss, I'm from\nMissouri; come across with the dough.\"\n\nI offered it to him, but he said, \"Give it to that guy there,\" and I\ngave it to the boy he indicated and took the sparrow.\n\nI held it for a moment and then it fluttered and struggled and finally\nreached the window ledge in a second story across the street. And\nother birds fluttered around over my head and seemed to say in bird\nlanguage, \"Thank you, Bill.\"\n\nThe kid looked at me in wonder and said: \"Say, boss, why didn't you\nchuck that nickel in the sewer?\"\n\nI told him that he was just like that bird. He was in the grip of the\ndevil, and the devil was too strong for him just as he was too strong\nfor the sparrow, and just as I could do with the sparrow what I wanted\nto after I had paid for it because it was mine. God paid a price for\nhim far greater than I had for the sparrow, for he had paid it with the\nblood of his Son and he wanted to set him free.\n\n\nNo Argument Against Sin\n\nSo, my friend, if I had paid for some property from you with a price,\nI could command you, and if you wouldn't give it to me I could go into\ncourt and make you yield. Why do you want to be a sinner and refuse to\nyield? You are withholding from God what he paid for on the cross. When\nyou refuse you are not giving God a square deal.\n\nI'll tell you another. It stands for God's hatred of sin. Sin is\nsomething you can't deny. You can't argue against sin. A skilful\nman can frame an argument against the validity of religion, but he\ncan't frame an argument against sin. I'll tell you something that may\nsurprise you. If I hadn't had four years of instruction in the Bible\nfrom Genesis to Revelation, before I saw Bob Ingersoll's book, and I\ndon't want to take any credit from that big intelligent brain of his, I\nwould be preaching infidelity instead of Christianity. Thank the Lord I\nsaw the Bible first. I have taken his lectures and placed them by the\nside of the Bible, and said, \"You didn't say it from your knowledge of\nthe Bible.\" And I have never considered him honest, for he could not\nhave been so wise in other things and such a fool about the plan of\nredemption. So I say I don't think he was entirely honest.\n\nBut you can't argue against the existence of sin, simply because it is\nan open fact, the word of God. You can argue against Jesus being the\nSon of God. You can argue about there being a heaven and a hell, but\nyou can't argue against sin. It is in the world and men and women are\nblighted and mildewed by it.\n\nSome years ago I turned a corner in Chicago and stood in front of\na police station. As I stood there a patrol dashed up and three\nwomen were taken from some drunken debauch, and they were dirty\nand blear-eyed, and as they were taken out they started a flood of\nprofanity that seemed to turn the very air blue. I said, \"There is\nsin.\" And as I stood there up dashed another patrol and out of it they\ntook four men, drunken and ragged and bloated, and I said, \"There is\nsin.\" You can't argue against the fact of sin. It is in the world and\nblights men and women. But Jesus came to the world to save all who\naccept him.\n\n\n\"How Long, O God?\"\n\nIt was out in the Y. M. C. A. in Chicago. \"What is your name and what\ndo you want?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm from Cork, Ireland,\" said he, \"and my name is James O'Toole. Here\nis a letter of introduction.\" I read it and it said he was a good\nChristian young man and an energetic young fellow.\n\nI said, \"Well, Jim, my name is Mr. Sunday. I'll tell you where there\nare some good Christian boarding houses and you let me know which one\nyou pick out.\" He told me afterwards that he had one on the North\nSide. I sent him an invitation to a meeting to be held at the Y. M.\nC. A., and he had it when he and some companions went bathing in Lake\nMichigan. He dived from the pier just as the water receded unexpectedly\nand he struck the bottom and broke his neck. He was taken to the morgue\nand the police found my letter in his clothes, and told me to come and\nclaim it or it would be sent to a medical college. I went and they had\nthe body on a slab, but I told them I would send a cablegram to his\nfolks and asked them to hold it. They put it in a glass case and turned\non the cold air, by which they freeze bodies by chemical processes,\nas they freeze ice, and said they would save it for two months, and if\nI wanted it longer they would stretch the rules a little and keep it\nthree.\n\nI was just thinking of what sorrow that cablegram would cause his old\nmother in Cork when they brought in the body of a woman. She would have\nbeen a fit model of Phidias, she had such symmetry of form. Her fingers\nwere manicured. She was dressed in the height of fashion and her hands\nwere covered with jewels and as I looked at her, the water trickling\ndown her face, I saw the mute evidence of illicit affection. I did\nnot say lust, I did not say passion, I did not say brute instincts. I\nsaid, \"Sin.\" Sin had caused her to throw herself from that bridge and\nseek repose in a suicide's grave. And as I looked, from the saloon,\nthe fan-tan rooms, the gambling hells, the opium dens, the red lights,\nthere arose one endless cry of \"How long, O God, how long shall hell\nprevail?\"\n\nYou can't argue against sin. It's here. Then listen to me as I try to\nhelp you.\n\nWhen the Standard Oil Company was trying to refine petroleum there was\na substance that they couldn't dispose of. It was a dark, black, sticky\nsubstance and they couldn't bury it, couldn't burn it because it made\nsuch a stench; they couldn't run it in the river because it killed the\nfish, so they offered a big reward to any chemist who would solve the\nproblem. Chemists took it and worked long over the problem, and one day\nthere walked into the office of John D. Rockefeller, a chemist and laid\ndown a pure white substance which we since know as paraffine.\n\nYou can be as black as that substance and yet Jesus Christ can make you\nwhite as snow. \"Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white\nas snow.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes\n\nObvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.\n\nBase ball, base-ball and baseball have been variously used throughout\nthe original, these have been standardised to baseball. Other\nvariations in hyphenation have been standardised, but variations in\npunctuation and spelling remain.\n\nItalics are represented thus _italic_ and bold thus =bold=.","title":"\"Billy\" Sunday, the Man and His Message: With his own words which have won thousands for Christ","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":143998}