1 Corinthians 13

1 Corinthians 13:1-4

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 1 Corinthians 13:1-4IN treating this chapter, while following the King James version, we hold, as doubtless will most of our readers, that the word charity here is better translated by the word “love”, and desire that in its constant recurrence that definition be kept in mind. I confess to some discouragement in attempting the thirteenth chapter of I Corinthians. That discouragement has at least a twofold occasion. First, the loftiness of its theme; and second, the matchless treatment which the same once received at the lips of Henry Drummond. One of the most epoch-making sermons of modern times fell from the lips of that consecrated scientist, when, before a small company, he delivered for the first time, “The Greatest Thing in the World”. Somehow the soul of the great man managed to compass this greatest subject of Sacred Scripture, and so to exploit its inspired sentences as to make them more popular and potent. Who shall come after the king?I remained in the ministry twenty-five years before I ever dared to preach from John 3:16, and even then, I only came to it by a holy constraint.

It is now a much longer period since I became a pastor, and I face with temerity the first attempt at directing an audience to this mountain height of 1 Corinthians 13.The kinship between John 3:16 and this chapter is of the closest sort. In the former the love of God is expressed; in the latter, love to God is glorified.The sentiment of love is inspiring; its proper expression sometimes seems impossible. Join with me in prayer that the Spirit Himself may instruct us while together we study “The Superior Gift of the Spirit”.He who inspired Paul to pen this chapter to the Christians at Corinth made the gift of love Superior by Concession, Superior in Composition, and Superior in Continuation. BY In the first three verses Paul employs five “ifs”, each of which shows the impotence of the most Christian graces apart from love. What the spirit of man is to his body in making it effective the grace of love is to Christian virtues.It is the potent element in oratory. “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13:1). This fact will compel a change in the common judgment concerning the oratory of the past, and at the same time it will determine the demand for the oratory of the future. Demosthenes and Cicero have been regarded beau-ideals in oratory for well-nigh two millenniums; but, like every judgment of the world, this one has been false, and these names will have to take a second place when compared with those of Peter and Paul, and even the world’s judges will yet be compelled to admit that they are unworthy to be mentioned in the same breath with the Man from Nazareth.Undoubtedly love of city and country accounted for the oratorical accomplishments of both these ancient spokesmen; but that love never exceeded the affection which Peter and Paul felt for Jerusalem and Judea; and it never knew the greater sweep of love for all men which the Spirit generated in their hearts. In consequence, for every man who could repeat a line from the addresses once delivered by Demosthenes and Cicero, there are ten familiar with a page, or even a volume, which came from the lips or dripped from the pen of the great Apostles of Christ. If one would know why mighty throngs dogged the very tracks of the Man from Nazareth that they might catch another word from His gracious lips, and why even His enemies were compelled to admit, “Never man spake like this Man”, he can make the discovery as he looks upon Jesus permitting John to lean upon His bosom, as he witnesses Him weeping at the grave of Lazarus, and hears the crowd say, “Behold, how He loved him”; as he follows Him to the hill of Bethany and overhears the bursting sobs, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not”! (Matthew 23:37). Or as He goes to Calvary and listens to the dying man, in an appeal of affection for the very men who had cruelly crucified Him, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do”!The one Man who made the speech of all others sound like hollow mockery is the Man who so loved his fellows, whether they were good or bad, whether they were friends or enemies, that He laid down His life for them. Such love has but to open its lips and devils will be made afraid, men will be made to hope, and angels will be made to rejoice in his oratory. “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal”.It is the inspiring spirit of prophecy.“And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; * * and have not charity, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2). Prophecy is not to be despised! In fact, it is one of the great gifts of the Spirit, involving both “mystery” and “knowledge”. In the twelfth chapter of Corinthians, “the word of wisdom” and “the word of knowledge” (1 Corinthians 13:8), are mentioned first as among the gifts. In the fourteenth chapter of this same Epistle Paul writes, “Follow after charity, and desire spiritual gifts, but rather that ye may prophesy”, and argues, “He that prophesieth speaketh unto men to edification, and exhortation, and comfort”. And in concluding that chapter he makes a further appeal, “Wherefore, brethren, covet to prophesy”. A mere prediction might exist apart from any special love to God or men.

Both Saul and Baalim were among the predictors of the Old Testament. But a man who prophesies is a man who speaks for God, and that can only be effectively done by him who loves.

John Alexander Dowie was in many respects a remarkable man—a man of striking personality—a man of good educational accomplishments; probably a man of clean character, and a man of exceptional eloquence. He properly esteemed the office of prophecy; he believed it to be one of the greatest ordered of God and known to the world, so he assumed to be a prophet. He named himself, “The Prophet”; he even went so far as to declare that he was “Elijah come again in the flesh.” Nine-tenths of all that he preached was Biblical; his emphasis upon the Second Coming of Christ and the subject of Divine healing met the sorest need of the century. Why then did he fail? Because in his prophesying there was no note of “love”. Harshness of spirit, criticism of brethren better than himself, defamation of the character of clean men, unjust imputations against the motives of his fellows—these crippled his ministry.

The lack of love on his own part toward people worthy of it resulted in the loss of the love of his followers, and effected a ruinous schism, and brought his brilliant career to a total eclipse. The test of the true prophet is twofold: first, that he should speak “the truth”; and second, that he should speak it “in love”.

To speak a falsehood in love, as Christian Scientists do, is to delight the Adversary, who knows how to fashion himself into an angel of light that he may deceive the elect. To speak the truth in anger, as Dowie so often did, is to doom the very truth itself, for “though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; * * and have not charity, I am nothing”.It is the effective feature of faith.“And though I hove all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing”.Now faith is a remarkable grace! When Paul comes to the end of this chapter he will separate out three graces to stand side by side and mention them as the abiding ones. They are related to the Christian as Peter and James and John were to their Lord; they occupy the places of special privilege, and “Faith” is one of them. No moral man ever praised faith beyond the Apostle Paul. As Henry Drummond tells us, “It was Paul’s strong point.” You read his personal history in the Book of the Acts and faith accounts for him; you read his opinions in the Epistles, and faith is most often mentioned by him.

He made faith the saving grace; he, like an earlier Luther, called to Israel to cease from an attempt at salvation by the performance of ceremonials, and to remember, “the just shall live by faith”, while “by the deeds of the Law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight”. As A.

J. Gordon insisted, he made “faith the fundamental grace.”And yet, he did not exceed his Master. In fact, it was the Christ Himself who said, to have “faith as a grain of mustard seed”, would be to see mountains removed at one’s word; or the sycamore tree, with its broad, spreading roots, plucked up and planted in the sea.Now the Apostle turns about and “tells us, “Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing”. Faith apart from love will desist after the first disappointment; the feeblest faith, animated by love, will never cease from endeavor, but die in the field. Some years since the Spaniards acutely believed that they could cope with America in a battle at sea. It took but two brief days to spoil their confidence and utterly subdue their spirit.

When, during the Civil War, General Hood was Commander and Chief of the Confederate forces in Georgia, he sent a message to General Hardy—a subordinate officer—to attack a strongly fortified position of the Union army. General Hardy said, “I do not think we can ever dislodge them, but we will attempt it.” His forces were repulsed with great loss of life.

Again General Hood sent his messenger saying, “Tell General Hardy that I love him, and that I want him to take that fortification.” His torn lines were closed up, and with his remaining strength he went to a more crushing defeat. For the third time the messenger came from Hood, bearing the word, “Tell General Hardy that I love him, and that I want him to try it again.” Hardy marshalled his regiment and marched them against the fort, to see them go down before the raking musketry and screeching shells. His little faith, inspired by a great love, moved him to attempt the impossible even though his army perish in the endeavor. Ah, truly, love is the effective feature of faith.But our fourth “if” introduces yet another fact.The basis of all true benevolence is love. “Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor * * and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing”. Few things said by Henry Drummond in his matchless sermon were more needful to the age than his excoriation of loveless charity. He says, “It is a very easy thing to pass a copper to the needy; it is generally an easier thing than not to do so. * * We purchase relief from the sympathetic feeling aroused by the spectacle of misery.

It is too cheap—too cheap for us and too dear for the beggar. If we really loved him, we would either do more for him or less.”I say, frankly, that when I study the gifts of men I am afraid that many of them will never be at all regarded of God.

The man who only contributes to the cause of Christ enough to escape church discipline; the man who carefully measures whether his contribution will be regarded as a fairly respectable one in the judgment of his Christian associates, or the man who gives in order to make a display of his generosity, without any concern for the alleviation of the suffering, the illumination of darkened minds, the uplift of discouraged hearts, and the redemption of sinful souls—each of these is within easy reach of the Apostle’s sweeping sentence, “Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, * * and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing”.It is one thing to do benevolence; it is another thing to be benevolent. The former is not approved of God; the latter alone is acceptable with Him. The former may have been without any love; the latter is love in action. Let me illustrate! Knight, in his History of England, tells us that when the Duke of Guise captured Calais from the English, he made a proclamation charging the inhabitants among the enemies of the French king that every one living in the town of Calais, having about him any money, plate or jewels to the value of one groat, should bring the same forthwith to the high altar of the churches, and his failure so to do would be punished with death. And Knight says, “By reason of this proclamation there was made a great and sorrowful offertory.” Doubtless some of them gave as much in proportion as the widow’s mite.

That is, they laid their all upon the altar; but who believes it was acceptable with God? The act of giving was there, but the love spirit, which made the widow’s two mites a memorial, was absent.

What difference is there between coming to the altar of giving, forced by the king’s threats and being dragged to the same expression of benevolence by the mandate of self-respect, or compelled to make an offering by the fear of public opinion, or driven to the same by the relentless desire to excite personal admiration? People often put themselves out to explain to me why they are not contributors to the cause of Christ. In nine cases out of ten, the explanation is not needful. The real reason is well known—lack of love to God and lack of interest in His cause. It is not a question of property and poverty. The highest compliment Christ ever paid to a contributor to the Lord’s treasury was brought about by the gift of two pence.

Men give not because they love not; women sometimes spend much upon themselves and little upon the Lord’s cause, and in each instance, the love they bear to self and the love they bear to God, is alike eloquently proclaimed by the proportions. Mary Fletcher, the widow of the Rev.

John Fletcher, had a small annual income amounting to less than $200 per annum. A friend who carefully cast up her accounts found that in a single year she had spent 19s 6d on personal apparel, and in a similar time contributed to the poor 182 £. Lady Huntington was not more rich than many who moved in her social circle, but she loved more, and so $500,000 was wisely distributed in an endeavor to meet a few of the world’s needs. She sold her jewels and erected chapels instead; she relinquished her expensive equipages; she gave up her liveried servants that she might minister to the needy. Instead of putting in many hours at the theatre every day, paying large sums for the privilege of looking upon harlots, putting life into false perspective, she purchased the theaters and opened them to public worship. How do you account for Lady Huntington?

One word—“Love”! And yet others have given as much without meriting anything of Divine favor.

The explanation is in the inspired sentence, “Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, * * and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing”.Martyrdom is meritorious only when prompted by love.“Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing”.We have long had a saying, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church!” Paul was not disputing that; but Paul is reminding us that there are martyrs and martyrs! Some were martyrs to folly; some were martyrs to fanaticism. All such died in vain. But some were martyrs for the love they bore to the crucified, yet living Christ. Such provided the seed of the Church. Gibbon, in his “History of Rome”, tells us that Timour once called certain suppliants and captives, who were distinguished doctors of the law, to a conference, and proposed to them the captious question, which neither Bokhara, Samarkand, or Herat, had been able to answer.

It was this: “Who are the true martyrs, those slain on my side, or those of mine enemies that have fallen?” But finally, one answered in the words of Mohammed himself, that the motive, not the ensign, constituted the martyr; that the Moslems of each party, who fought for the glory of God, deserve that sacred appellation.We know definitely well that there are many martyrs whose deaths were neither necessary nor acceptable. Gibbon reminds us of certain Donatists that they were possessed with the horror of life and actually desired death!

They did everything in their power to invite it, and when justices would not execute it on complaint of their conduct, they forced their way into the courts of justice and compelled the affrighted judge to give orders for their immediate execution. If they failed to find a man who was willing to put them to death, they announced the day on which, in the presence of their sons and brothers, they should cast themselves down upon the rocks. Gibbon says, “Many precipices were shown which had acquired fame by the number of religious suicides committed on them.” Such men serve not God, but Satan instead. They were willing to give their bodies to be burned, but it profited them nothing.How differently one views the banishment of John to the dreary isle of Patmos, when he learns that he is there for “the Word of God, and for the testimony of Jesus Christ”, How differently one views the death of Peter when he finds that he had loved life and expended its every power to the very moment when he was crucified, head down. How differently one views the martyrdom of Paul when he sees him grieving at giving up the fellowship of his brethren, yet bravely announcing to his executioners that his love of Christ was such that, for His Name’s sake, he was ready to be offered, the time of his departure being at hand. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13), “But God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). He gave Himself, constrained by the noblest passion that ever burned in the breast, the passion of love.Noblest!

Yes, and most Divine, for “God is love”. It was a beautiful and sweet thing that Henry Drummond said to some of the little company to whom he delivered his epoch-making sermon, “I beg the little band of would-be missionaries, (and I have the honor to call some of you by this name for the first time,) to remember that though you give your bodies to be burned, and have not charity, it profits nothing—nothing!

You can take nothing greater to the heathen world than the impress and reflection of the Love of God upon your own character. That is the universal language! It will take you years to speak in Chinese, or in the dialects of India. From the day you land, that language of Love, understood by all, will be pouring forth its unconscious eloquence. It is the man who is the missionary; it is not his words! His character is his message!

In the heart of Africa, among the great Lakes, I have come across black men and women who remembered the only white man they ever saw before—David Livingstone; and as you cross his footsteps in that dark continent, men’s faces light up as they speak of the kind doctor who passed there years ago. They could not understand him, but they felt the love that beat in his heart.

Take into your new sphere of labor, where you also mean to lay down your life, that simple charm, and your life work must succeed. You can take nothing greater; you need take nothing less. It is not worth while going if you take anything less. You may take every accomplishment; you may be braced for every sacrifice; but if you give your body to be burned, and have not charity, it will profit you and the cause of Christ nothing”.Oh, it is a great attainment, this to which the Apostle invites us by his inspired appeal, and only an inspired spirit can ever make it possible both to you and to me, and a part of our actual experience. One may not consent to Campbell Morgan’s rendition of a text in Galatians 5:22, but he will not dissent from his conclusions. He renders the text after this manner, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, even joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23), and says “Joy is love’s consciousness, peace is love’s confidence, long-suffering is love’s habit, gentleness is love’s activity, goodness is love’s quantity, faith is love’s quality, meekness is love’s tone, temperance is love’s victory.” Thus we have a whole octave of graces, flowing like music out of this one grace of love, this one “fruit of the Spirit”.A consecrated woman has written upon, “The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life”, but here, in the Apostle’s inspired speech, we have an open secret of the life of power. Time forbids that I pursue this study further today, and I invite you to come with me into its more glorious depths a week hence, forgetting not that today is the day accepted with Him; today is the day of salvation, for God is love.

1 Corinthians 13:4-13

THE GRACE 1 Corinthians 13:4-13IN our last study of this chapter, while employing the King James version, as is our custom, we defined the word charity to mean “love”, showing that love is the basis of all benevolence; and finally, that martyrdom is only meritorious when prompted by love. It would seem that Paul had exhausted the catalogue of compliments for this grace when he has finished with the third verse; but, on the contrary, he has only commenced. We will not forget that when Henry Morehouse came to this country, a green young Irishman, he preached in the great hall for Mr. Moody for seven consecutive nights, and never shifted from the great theme of God’s love, nor from the great text of Joh 3:16.Without doubt every sentence in this thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians is worthy of a sermon. If one attempt to cover even a few of its verses in a single discourse, it leaves him convinced of an insufficient treatment. And yet, the general comprehension of a chapter or book is an essential first step toward its more complete mastery.With this in mind we turn our attention to the ten remaining verses of this marvelous tribute to Love. In our last address the respective themes were introduced by the word “if.” To-day, “Love” is the key word.

It appears five times in the ten verses. In four instances its employment presents a new side of the incomparable grace; and in the fifth instance draws a conclusion and reaches a climax.IT IS KIND “Charity suffereth long, and is kind”. The old stoics used to teach men that to suffer, in stolid silence, was virtue. You could be as glum as you pleased if you said nothing. They did not even ask you to “grin and bear it”, but to be silent and bear it, whether you grinned or secretly groaned. The Christian Scientist has gone the stoic one better, and said, “If you suffer, say it is not so,” and no matter how deeply it hurts, hold tenaciously to the statement that “suffering is an illusion of mortal mind,” and keep smiling, encouraged by the thought that your silent, smiling agony may secure a new convert to the philosophy of “Science and Health.”But Christianity provides a grace whereby one may endure continued suffering and yet remain kind, and that grace is “love”.These are days in which we hear much said about the “milk of human kindness.” It is a trait of character that has much or more to do with personal, domestic and social happiness than any that might be named. Henry Drummond is not extravagant when he declares, “No form of vice, not worldliness, not greed of gold, not drunkenness itself, does more to unchristianize society than evil temper.

For embittering life, for breaking up communities, for destroying the most sacred relationships, for devastating homes, for withering up men and women, for taking the bloom of childhood; in short, for sheer gratuitous misery-producing power, this influence stands alone.”Have you never noticed that one-half the divorces that are granted in court today are not given on Biblical grounds at all? They are not even granted as a release from cruelty; but “incompatibility of temper” is the commonest plea in our courts, which only means another name for no love, and I will prove it by a solitary illustration.

If there is any woman in the world for whom my heart bleeds it is the sweet, wholesome, Christian woman whose life is bound up with that of a bloated drunkard. I never condemn her when she requests a separation; and yet, I know perfectly well that love can even endure that debasement and be kind. John R. McConica was a college graduate. He married a beautiful young woman, and on the statement of Sam Hadley, the first weeks of wedded life were full of bliss. But John was a tippler, and finally drink dragged him down. Most of his time was spent in saloons. No provision was made for his wife and children, and finally the beautiful, cultured girl went back to her father in an eastern city.

But she loved “Jack”, as she called him, and could not forget him. By the intervention of friends she kept on his track. Letter after letter reached the saloon where he was accustomed to “hang out.” Finally he got into a drunken brawl and had a bad gash cut in his eye. He was taken to the hospital and his wife got some Episcopal church women to visit him and encourage him. As soon as he was able to leave the hospital he got into a second row and again his face was badly hurt. On hearing this the wife set out, one hot August morning, by the Fall River boat, to reach the town in which he lay bruised and bleeding.

Thinking that it might encourage his sinking heart she sent him a message saying, “Jack, I am coming at once. Will take the boat today.” He found that the boat would come in Sunday morning.

His forehead was bandaged with absorbent cotton; strips of sticking plaster were about his head and cheek and nose to hold them together. He had on neither shirt, coat nor vest. An old linen duster supplied the place of all these garments. His trouser legs were split behind nearly to the knees, and at every step they would flop like a scarecrow in a cornfield. He had no stockings and his feet were sticking out from his shoes. He was dirty and exhausted from hunger. But he knew his wife was coming and he wanted to see her. Hundreds of Newport’s most fashionable guests would be on the boat, but Jack could not resist the desire to go down to the pier to see the one who had been so much to him.

He intended to keep out of sight as much as possible, so he hid behind a big dry-goods box on the pier and watched the beautiful boat as she slowly steamed into the dock. Although he was trying to keep himself hidden, he would peep out to see if the dear one was on board. There was another one, too, who was looking with both her eyes, and that was the loved one; and love has keen, sharp eyes. She was watching with all her loving heart to see if she could get a glimpse of Jack, and sure enough, she caught a view of his disfigured face as he peeped around the corner of the box where he was hiding. She flew down the gang-plank, and running up to the poor tramp she cried: “Oh, Jack, Jack!” and threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. She was a beautiful woman, and dressed as daintily as a queen, but she took his arm and walked up the pier in front of that company of millionaires and fine people. It was a sight to make angels weep. “Charity suffereth long, and is kind”.IT IS “Charity envieth not”. I have already said that an unwholesome temper is a great sorrow-producing agency. And yet the spirit of envy is a close second in its power to sadden the world. In whatever walk of life you find an envious man or woman, you find one subject to fits of sullenness, and one almost sure to subject others to severe criticism and harsh treatment. Plutarch tells us that Themistocles was so carried away with the love of glory, so immoderately desirous of distinguishing himself by some great action, that, though he was very young when the battle of Marathon was fought, and Miltiades was everywhere extolled, he was observed to keep much alone, to be very pensive, and not to attend the usual entertainments. When he was asked the reason by his friends, who wondered at the change, he said the trophies of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep.There is no more godlike grace than for a soul to be able to rejoice in its superiors, for a business man to take pleasure in the man who can do business better than he, for the minister to love and praise the minister who calls greater crowds about him than he himself can, for the mother to admire the neighbor woman who has brought up even better children than her own, and for a church member to praise a fellow-Christian whose capability has resulted in exaltation to office and honor.The point of competition is the best place conceivable for the revelation of a Christian spirit.

One of the most Christian men I have ever known revealed his character at this very point. I asked him one day if he did not find it a hardship to occupy a secondary place and to take orders whereas it had once been his right to give them, and he answered, “In no wise. On the contrary, there is not a success that comes to my superior that is not as much my joy as though it were my own. In fact, it is my own if it honor my Christ.” And the open secret of that man’s life was charity—charity to God and love for fellowmen. “Charity envieth not”.IT IS One can hardly imagine the different directions in which selfishness runs until he studies the Apostle’s definition of unselfishness and sees how many elements enter into the latter.“Charity vaunteth not itself”. The selfish man finds it impossible to be silent regarding his attainments. There is no tribute you can pay another but it provokes him to some expression of self-estimation.“Is not puffed up”. Selfishness cannot escape the strutting attitude; it inflates like a peacock; it expands like a balloon; it forgets that, as in both these instances, the whole business is accomplished by the use of hot air.“Doth not behave itself unseemly”. The truest gentility is never possible to the self-seeking! The fact that Pharaoh was born and bred in court could not save him from coarse behavior; but if Moses had never seen the inside of a palace his meek spirit would have made him a Chesterfield in any company. Henry Drummond spoke truly when he said, “Put the most untutored persons into the highest society, and if they have a reservoir of Love in their heart they will not behave themselves unseemly; they simply cannot do it. And then he illustrates: “Carlyle said of Robert Burns that there was no truer gentleman in Europe. It was because he loved everything—the mouse, and the daisy, and all the things that God had made. So with this simple passport he could mingle with any society, and enter courts and palaces from his little cottage on the banks of the Ayr.

You know the meaning of the word ‘gentleman’. It means a gentle man—a man who does things gently, with love.

And that is the whole mystery of it. The gentle man cannot in the nature of things do an ungentle, an ungentlemanly thing. The ungentle soul, the inconsiderate, unsympathetic nature cannot do anything else.” “Charity doth not behave itself unseemly”.The sentences that follow seem a logical sequence to this—“Seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil”.I have often contended, and I solemnly believe, that sickness as a rule does not sweeten the spirit of a man, but sours it instead. As a rule it does not produce unselfishness, but fruits in its opposite. And yet, if there be love enough in the heart, even the sick will remain unselfish, be patient before provocation, take little account of its own suffering. What better illustration could be found of these facts than that revealed by the life of Mrs.

Bella Cook, nicknamed, “The Saint of Second Avenue,” by the people whose lives she blessed. Recently a contributor to the “Christian Herald” rehearsed how in her early life she was employed by Anton G.

Phelps as a Bible Reader. After she became an invalid, Mr. Phelps contributed largely to her support, and made her the medium through which he distributed his alms to the poor. The William E. Dodge family, especially Miss Grace Dodge, also became greatly interested in Mrs. Cook and dispensed their charities by her hand, as did the Vanderbilts, Mrs. Field, Mrs. Henry Clues, Mrs.

Charles Stickney, Lady Henry Somerset, and others. For fifty-four years Bella Cook never rose from her bed, yet scores of cases of poverty she carefully investigated—dispensing to each according to her superior judgment; and never once did one of these alms seekers quit her bedside without a word of warning or encouragement.Mrs. Cook believed in Divine healing, but after Dr. Cullis and others had prayed for her, without restoration, she said, “God’s answer to me is that given to Paul—’My grace is sufficient for thee’, and so I will go on happy without health.” She so far absorbed herself in devotion to the church, to the loved ones, to the poor and lost, that she seemed often to forget her own suffering, and the writer in the “Christian Herald” says, “She was surrounded by an atmosphere of spiritual gentleness, tenderness and benevolence, which was wafted from Paradise. Words were insufficient to picture her affectionate bearing, her chaste nature and the enduring, unmurmuring submission to the Divine will. Her soul was a gem of rare beauty for the Master’s crown.” She herself is the author of two volumes in the nature of an autobiography, and the proof of her triumph is in the title, “Rifted Clouds.” Kate Upson Clark, writing regarding her books said, “They remind one of ‘The Imitation of Christ’, and the ‘Saint’s Rest’.” No wonder!

They expressed both!Ah, beloved, we who have been under the blessing of God, but have been given to vaunting ourselves, to being puffed up, to behaving ourselves unseemly, to seeking our own, to indulging in easy provocation, to taking account of evil; let us remember the grace we need to cure us of all this, and to accomplish in us the more conquering Christian life! Only such as have this grace, “Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things”!If there were time one ought to elaborate each of these sentences.

There are some very decent people who seem to rejoice in unrighteousness; at least if we judge them by what occupies their lips—they are scandal-mongers. And there are some that rejoice little in “the truth,” at least if we may judge them by the fads of faith after which they are following and their semi-defense of falsehood. Every will-o’-the-wisp starts them on a new lead. Name it “New Thought”, call it “Progressive”, publish it as “the latest scientific discovery”, and they are on the search.But at the seventh verse the Apostle seems to change his theme from that of willing unselfishness, and by four sentences gets ready for the great statement which looks to a conclusion of the whole matter, namely, “Charity never faileth”. Leading up to that he declared, love “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things”.IT IS STABLE “Charity never faileth”. After all, its transcendent superiority is in its stability. Concerning prophecy the Apostle says that Shall pass away; concerning tongues, they shall cease; concerning knowledge, it shall vanish away, at least that which we once knew must give place when the larger acquisition comes, for “now I know in part”, “but then shall I know even as also I am known”. We know only as a child, but when we become men we put away childish things. We see superficially as in a mirror darkly, but we are destined to see face to face. Yes, the partial knowledge shall pass.

The accomplishments of life are many of them like ships—they “pass in the night.” But the grace of life is like life itself, it “abideth forever”.The point at which most men miss the mark is by seeking that which seems important but proves to be only a passing accomplishment. It does not take long for the tongue of the orator to be silent, and the sounds that pass his lips to die forever from the ears of men.

And, it does not take long for the field of battle to forget the successful commander and turn itself to the common use of corn growing. Macaulay tells us of the great William Pitt, the Commoner of England, who had vanquished French marshalls in Germany and French admirals on the Atlantic, who had conquered for his country one great empire, on the frozen shores of Ontario, and another under the tropical sun near the mouth of the Ganges, that it was not in the nature of things that popularity, such as he had, should be permanent. It was gone before his children were old enough to understand that their father was a great man. He was at length placed in situations in which neither his talents for administration, nor his talents for debate, appeared to the best advantage. The energy and decision which had eminently fitted him for the direction of war were not needed in time of peace.Ah, truly, the most praised accomplishments of men soon pass away. But the one grace that abides is the grace that comes down from above; the grace that defines the very character of God himself— Charity. “Charity never faileth”!But love is more than a passive grace; it is active; and when you look to its accomplishments, the truth obtains, love never fails.

Our faith often falls short and the Master has occasion to rebuke us —“O ye of little faith”. Our hopes are often dashed to the earth.

They die with comparative ease. But “Charity never faileth”. That is why the Apostle could say, “Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity”. Apply it to character and it is true! None the less true when employed with reference to accomplishments. I could, if there were time, illustrate this from every walk of life. It is true in domestic life—“Charity never faileth”. It is true in social life—“Charity never faileth”.

It is true in religious life—“Charity never faileth”.The man who undertakes to win his fellows to Christ may need other accomplishments and may employ all capabilities, but the untiring and invincible grace is “charity.” Permit another illustration from down in Water Street, in conclusion.One night an old man came in. He was about sixty years of age, but he looked a full hundred. He was one of the most typical tramps that had ever entered that resort of hobos. He was more than six feet tall, his dirty gray beard was a foot long, and his hair of the same color hung a foot down his back. His eyes were bleared and full of matter, and his face had not been touched with water for weeks. He wore an old ragged overcoat, which looked as if it had been pulled out of some ash barrel, and it was drawn up around his throat and fastened with a nail.

His trousers were literally rags. He had on no shirt or undershirt and on his feet were pieces of rags tied up with strings.

He peered forward and said, “Mr. Hadley, are you there?” “Yes,” answered that marvelous worker, “I am here.” “Will you pray for me, I am contrite.” No sooner had Mr. Hadley prayed than he said, “Well, I am saved; no doubt about it.” And then turning to Mr. Hadley he asked, “What are you going to give me?” “Well, I will give you a night’s lodging.” “Nothing else.” “I will give you a quarter for your breakfast.” “That’s right; I always knowed you was a Christian!” “I’ll come every night.” “Oh, don’t,” said Mr. Hadley. “Yes; I’ll come every night.” Now this very man was a college graduate. He had studied law in the office of E. M. Stanton, the great War Secretary under the immortal Lincoln.

He had entered upon what promised to be a lucrative practice, when whisky dragged him down. He entered the army and came out of it a confirmed drunkard. His degradation was rapid. Finally, when home, wife and children were gone, he descended to the very depths. Next night he was on hand again and went up and tried to put his arms around Hadley’s neck, and Hadley repulsed him and pointed to the door, and said, “Go!” “Do you mean it?” he asked. “If you linger around here much longer I will show you whether I mean it or not.” So he moved slowly away, cursing Hadley as he went. He cursed the mission and everybody else, and swore that he would die in the streets before he would ever come again.It had been a sore night for Hadley; drunken longshoremen had disturbed his meeting and perturbed his spirit, and so he was more brusk with the old man than he would have been.

A little while later when Hadley came to pray, not a word would pass his lips. He remembered his harsh treatment of the old Colonel, as they called him.

He went to bed, but could not sleep; he could think of nothing but the poor old man going out into the night, and he says, “I believe I learned a little, just a little, that night of what the blessed Jesus must have suffered for me when he spent that awful night in the Garden. Two weary weeks dragged slowly by after Hadley’s treatment of the old man when the monthly meeting for workers was held. Hadley was asked to speak. Rising he said, “Yes, I have something to say.” He told how he had treated the old man and said, “I have been condemned ever since.” The mission workers prayed for the Old Colonel and for Hadley that God would forgive him if he had been rude to the old man. That night the Old Colonel was back again on the back bench. When Mr.

Hadley saw him he went straight to him and put his arms around his neck and burst into tears. He took him out to a restaurant and got him a beefsteak, some potatoes, bread and butter and coffee, and sat down beside him while he ate.

Hadley said, “He crowded it in like a famished animal.” I got a tub of hot water, a bar of soap and some towels and washed this poor outcast and threw his old vermin-infested rags into the fire and dressed him in clean clothes. He took him to a barber and had him put the clipper on him, cut the long hair and beard, but left the moustache. At night we went to the meeting and he came forward for prayers, but oh, how changed! His whole frame trembled with emotion and tears fell from his eyes as he cried, “Oh, Lord, if it is not too late, forgive me, I am a poor lost sinner.” For six nights he was at the altar pleading, but when Saturday night came he rose from his knees with heaven in his face, and cried, “Oh, Brother Hadley, I am saved!” “I believe it,” said Hadley, and then they did hug one another. From that moment the old beggar tramp was changed into a child of God. He fairly loathed rum and its evil effects.

God seemed to restore his intellect which had been so badly impaired. It was a marvel how his youth began to return, and from that time he walked the streets a dignified, Christian gentleman.

Thousands gave him audience while he told the story of the love of Jesus. When he sickened, at last, they put him in the Presbyterian Hospital whence he passed to glory and triumph, and another star was set in Sam Hadley’s crown; and another friend on the far shore waited to welcome him into the eternal habitation. “Charity never faileth”! and though, of the abiding graces, there are three, faith, hope, charity, “the greatest of these is charity”!