A Goodly Heritage

It was Pilate's last appeal. He hoped that the spectacle of Jesus wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe would so move the people to pity, that they would cry out for His release. But the appeal was in vain. While the Holy Sufferer stands before us, we may think of Him as He appeared that moment. "Behold the man!" Recall His life. It had been beautiful in its sinlessness and in its revealings of God. In His trial, His enemies had sought to find some flaw in Him—but they could find nothing. Pilate said, "I bring Him forth to you, that you may know that I find no fault in Him." Witnesses could have been gathered from all over the land to testify to His kindness, His thoughtfulness, His mercy, His love—but not one could they find anywhere to testify to any wrong He had ever done, any injustice, any injury. He had been the Friend of the poor, the Comforter of sorrow, the Helper of the weak. As He stands before us now, He appears as the man of sorrows. Hi...

Those who was one of the strangest nights of our Lord's life. In the evening He sent the disciples out upon the sea alone. Then He went up into the mountain and spent the night with His Father. A storm came on, and the little boat was wildly tossed in the waves. From His place of prayer, Jesus kept His eye on His disciples. He saw them distressed in rowing, and around three in the morning, He came to them walking on the water. Then it was that Peter called to Jesus, "Bid me to come unto You upon the waters." It was just like Peter, loving and eager—but impetuous and rash. Still, the Master said "Come!" and instantly the disciple stepped out from the boat. While he kept his eye on his Master, he walked on the water as if it were a solid pavement. But for a moment he saw the waves, and at once began to sink. In his despair he cried, "Lord, save me!" and immediately Jesus reached out His hand and lifted him out of the waters. But while He was rescuing hi...

No one can ponder the great theme of immortality for an hour—and not feel the stir and glow of a better, nobler life in him. In our more commonplace moods, we are like men shut up in a narrow cell. We see for the time nothing but the little patch of dusty floor at our feet—and the cold, cheerless walls that encircle us. We are occupied with our little round of duties. Burdens press, sorrows pour bitter tears into our cup, our hopes are shattered; or we have our short-lived joys—we see our plans succeed, and play at living like children in their make-believe games. Now and then we have intimations of a wider and more glorious world outside our walls, stretching away beyond the small circle in which we dwell. Faint voices appear to come to us from without. Or there are glimmerings as if of memory, like the visionary gleams of a past and forgotten life, which flash before us in our higher moods. But to most of us, pent up in this earthly...

"When Elkanah and all his household went up to make the annual sacrifice and his vow offering to the Lord, Hannah did not go and explained to her husband, 'After the child is weaned, I'll take him to appear in the Lord's presence and to stay there permanently.' Her husband Elkanah replied, 'Do what you think is best, and stay here until you have weaned him. May the Lord confirm your word.' So Hannah stayed there and nursed her son until she weaned him." 1 Samuel 1:21-23 It is the picture of a mother of the olden times, that is before us. The story of Hannah is invested with rare interest. It is one of those narratives whose charm is their unadorned simplicity. Though living so long since, when the world was so young—this mother stands yet, in the radiant spirit of her life—in the clearness of her faith, in the devotion of her motherhood, as a model for Christian mothers in these newest ages. There are some things that grow old and out of date—but moth...