THE COURIER
SOME FAULT FINDING.
witlrhis scourge He would drive out great nnny that sit in the
front pews and lead in the worship of the house of God.
(Written for The Coumhr.)
IT is Sunday morning. The sun is shining brightly. Thostreets
are crowded with fashionably attired people wending their
way to the churches. The bells peai out. From some tall
cathedral spire the chimes ring out a jubilant peal and all the air
trembles with the sound. The church doors swing and ttwing. The
pews are soon filled. The preacher sits in the pulpit in his immacu
late linen and clothes of sober black. The choir sings. The organ
fills the room with its divine melody and then the preacher arises
and preaches his flowery sermon.
V
Which stately mansion towering high
Beside the busy way,
Would be the home that Christ would seek
Should he come here today?
Which massive pile of brick or stone
Whose spires point tow'rd the sky
Would be the place where ho would go
To pray to God on high?
What well made creed would he select
To recommend to all?
What form of prajer or mode of song
Would he and his install?
I thinK his home would be the streets
Where idle, hungry men.
Stand discontented, clamoring
For work, and then again,
I think he'd find u humble cot
Beside a sick child's bed.
Or watch by night with stricken ones.
Who mourn beside their dead.
No wretched beggars by the way
Or harlots penitent,
Would he consider e'er too low
Their cause to represent.
His robes would be the common clothes
That poorest people wear.
The only incense he would have
The sinner's pleading prayer.
Look over the congregation in that large church. See the fine
dresses, the costly millinery, the fashion and the pride displayed.
And these are the followers of Christ, the lowly Nazarene, the man
who was homeless and tired and forsaken! Can the woman who
wears that costly silk dress have an easy conscience as she passes
by the homes of tho poor on her way to the church, and sees the
poor pinched faces of children look out of the windows at her? Can
she take any pleasure when she sees the tired overworked women
look wistfully at her as she goes by? It is hard to tell. It is a
strange world. The people who have all that the world can give
pass in and take all the comforts of religion while the poor and
those who need it most are crowded out and driven to the wall. It
some great white Christ would come through our temples today
It is over. The organ peals out the postlude; the people throng
out into the streets and go to their homes. And now tell me what
was the use of it all? What good did it do to go there and sit in
that costly church and listen to the music and to that beautiful
sermon? Were you made better? Are you here in the world simply
to be made better or are you hore to help make some one else better?
Poor deluded creatures! You go to church every Sunday and pat
yourselves on your backs and feel that you have done a good deed.
You have worshipped God. What need has God for your worship?
He has angels to worship Him. He does not care for your praiso
and your songs and your devotion. He nevor meant for you to go
into the churches and idly pray with folded hands and leave the
poor and the sick and atilicted alono and neglected. Go to the
church if you will and as you go, look at the shadow of the steeple,
that points like a great finger to a hut where poverty and sorrow
reign, but do not heed its warning; go in and pray and sing; it is
fashionable.
The church has its mission. No one doubts that; but whether
it is to be simply a mutual admiration Bor.iety, a club or a clique
seems to be a question of vital importance to the coming generation.
Some churches have fine singing, operatic singing, and all about
the performance has the air of an entertainment, an amusement for
aesthetically inclined people. Other churches have a sort of a
spiritual intoxication. Thej become so wrapped tip in feeling good
and finding a heaven on earth that they let the poor starve, neglect
the sick and the disappointed. There are others, and the Salvation
army is one of them, where work is as important as prayer. Whpre
the wants of God's poor are cared for first, and thon the soul is look
ed after. They build no great stone churches, have no cushioned
pews and hired singers, but worship out under the open sky, sing
their songs amidst the dire poverty and suffering of tho people in
the slums, and while they work to alleviate suffering with their
hands they pray in their hearts. I think that if Christ came here
today He would bo with the people who wear the blue uniforms
and march the streets amidst the scoffs of those who follow Him in
silks and satins and jewels.
The ragged beggar, old and gray.
The brazen harlot by tho way.
The bloated reeling drunken man.
Are all included in God's plan
Of wide redemption through His son,
For such was all His suffering done.
It was for such that Christ has died.
For such was Jesus crucified.
William Reed Dunkoy.
THEY WILL WALK.
Nat Sebastain, of St Louis, who has dabbled more or less in dra
matic enterprises, has a scheme on foot, literally, which will appeal
to every barnstomer in the land. He has organized the Bonnell
Pedestrian Dramatic company, which is composed of Messrs. Will
S. Bonnell, George F. Green, Leonidas Begg, Louise Angel, Warren
Catlin, and Ed Forshay. and Misses Lulu Forshay, Adelaide Carle
ton and Neva Cross. It is safe to say that every one of them has
practised histrionic pedestrian ism, but hitherto on the return but
not on the outgoing trip. The company is to be put in training sev
eral days before the date set for their departure, to "limter up the
ladies," as one of the members said. They have not done any tie
walking for some time, and they want to accustom themselves to it
before they start out.
They are to line up on the corner of Fourth and Elm streets at
noon one clay this month Knd are to be searched in public to
show that they have no morife.y. They will play in St. Louis that
night and then cross the bridge and start on their tour, which must
be ended in New York city by noon on June 30. Here are some of
the rules: There shall be one watch in the crowd, so that the man
ager may direct the movements of the members. No liquor will
be permitted in camp. The members must remain together, none
going ahead and none remaining behind. All money, except what
is necessary for expenses, muBt be forwarded to a St. Louis bank,
and any member who leaves the company forfeits his shaic. They
must stick to railroad tracks. They must not ride at all. They
must not sleep in hotels. The quartet must sing at every way station
and pass the hat. They must carry their costumes with them.
They expect to play "Oliver Twist," and to work towns which are
only one day's walk apart.
INFERENCE.
'I want to git a collar fer my husband.' said the hard faced
women, "and I declare I have plu nb forgot the size. I giner'ly buy
all his collars and ties fer him, too."
"Ah!"' said the astute clerk. "Then you want about a fifteen
and a half or sixteen.''
"Yes, that's right, but I don't see how you guessed it so easy J"
"Oh, I have noticed that a man who lets his wife buy all his
haberdashery for him usually has a neck of about that size."
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