September 13, 1928
We never realize what a good thing youth is until it is too late. – Red Head Bill
Sometimes we meet young boys that convince us that youth is better than it was fifty years ago, and then we run up against another bunch of young hellions that are absolutely rotten, and mourn that the institution known as whipping has passed away and is no longer available either in the school or in the home. I can easily remember when a switch was as much a part of the furnishings of a house as a broom or any of the other numerous household articles. In fact, the sight of a switch resting upon its supports, like the family rifle, had a deterrent effect upon the young and kept them reminded that there was a God in Israel.
It is possible that far from the maddening crowd’s ignoble life there are households who still rule by force and by arms, but I do not happen to know of any family where beating is resorted to by the stern. Time will tell whether by such kindness and forbearance the moral tone of the country will be improved, for it is only a matter of time when the boys of today will be in charge of the world and will have to contend with the exuberance of youth.
I have no suggestions to make as to the merits of strict discipline and the honor rule, for I do not know. I am hoping for the best. Times change…
The day of whipping the child because he forgot to say his prayers is gone. But I hope and trust that the mothers still teach the very little ones to say their prayers, for there are rough days ahead for each one of the little sinners, and silent and secret prayer will have to be resorted to by each and every one of them. Even if there are no advanced lessons in prayer making, if they learn the prayer used by little children, they will have a refuge in a time of storm.
It is related that in the wars in Kansas, that the fierce John Brown captured a lot of tough men who were given to swearing and, while he held them prisoners in camp, he required them to say their prayers before going to sleep, and that the only prayer they knew was “Now I lay me…”
Maybe I had better print that prayer in full for those who do not know it:
“Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
And this I ask for Jesus’ sake. Amen.”
But that was not what I was going to discuss with regard to youth…
To be continued…
PULPITS AND POLITICS
The following is taken from an editorial in the Southern Methodist for August 2.
“It is well known that nowhere in the world is there a more solid block opposed to the union of state and church than among the leaders of the Protestant Church of the South. Very few if any deliverances bearing on the political situation will be delivered from the Southern pulpits, and if there are any exceptions to this policy they will be considered unfortunate for the cause which they seek to represent as well as against the traditional policy of the Church.
“The preachers of the South have on their hearts and hands much more serious business than the election of a President of the United States. Theirs is a Kingdom that is not of this world. It is their duty to warn all men to make their own calling and election sure. Their message has in it the issue of eternal destiny. Their business is not reformation but regeneration. The men and women whom they address from their pulpits are not Democrats and Republicans, but saints and sinners, the saved and the lost. They speak to those who have received God’s gift of eternal life and those who have not received God’s gift of life. Their solution for the world’s problems – all the world’s problems, whether they be political, economic or social or ethical – is to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved and thy house.
This prescription for the world’s sickness was never more foolish to the worldly-minded than now. Yet, this is our message, and we still believe and know that it is the power of God unto salvation.”
His silence spelled His Guilt, and yet…
Her face was deathly white.
Her heart seemed to stop beating as she stared in horrified unbelief at the letter clutched in her trembling hand. A letter to Dave, her husband – from a strange woman – asking for money!
Oh, it couldn’t – couldn’t be true!
And yet – who was this woman?
Why had she written Dave this letter?
Was there, after all, some romantic episode in her husband’s life that he had kept hidden from her?
Surely there had been some terrible mistake.
Surely Dave could explain.
But, that night, when she quietly handed him the letter, Dave sat with bowed head, in stony silence – his face a mask, to hide – what?
Torn between love and suspicion, between hope and despair, between faith and disillusionment, she searched her breaking heart in a piteous attempt to learn what she had done to deserve this crucifixion.
All she had loved and lived for seemed to lay in crumbling ruins at her feet.
God knew she loved Dave, no matter what he had done.
And yet –
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Contents for October:
Bird of Shame
My Mad Moment – and After
I Was a Doctor’s Wife
Because I Couldn’t say “No!”
Ashamed of His Wife
– and several other stories.
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