I heard of a young woman, a domestic in a home, who loved her Savior and whose heart He had filled with a love for her fellow men. Opportunities for service such as the world recognizes were few, but every night she was accustomed to gather the daily papers after they had been thrown aside. Taking these to her room she used to cut from them the list of death notices, and laying these before her she knelt and in prayer commended those in sorrow to the gracious help of her Father in heaven. She did not know them, but they were in sorrow, and in the only way she could she ministered to them. We are not judges, but I am much mistaken, if in the eyes of Him who judges not as man judges, such service as that does not rank high up above the princely gifts that attract the attention of the world.--Robert Johnston.

When Lincoln, on his way by train from Washington to Gettysburg, was halted at a station, a little girl was lifted up to an open window of the car, and handing a bouquet of rosebuds to him, said: ''Flowers for the President!" Mr. Lincoln took the rosebuds, bent down and kissed the child, saying, "You're a sweet little rosebud yourself. I hope your life will open into perpetual beauty and goodness."

We ask for so many foolish things. If we should get them we would not know what to do with the answers. "Sophie," the scrub-woman, of Brooklyn, in her quaint, half-broken English, once said this:

"I heard about a countryman who was in the city for the first time. He went into a restaurant and made up his mind to have something fine, whatever the cost. He saw a man at the next table put a little mustard on his plate, and he said 'that must be fine and expensive, he has so little, but no matter what it costs, I will haf some.' So he told the waiter to bring him a dollar's worth of that stuff. A plate was brought. He took a big spoonful: it bit him; he spit it out and did not want any more. So, we ask for things that if our Father should give them to us we would only be bitten by them and be glad to get rid of them."

There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it. In our whole life-melody the music is broken off here and there by "rests," and we foolishly think that we have come to the end of the time. God sends a time of forced leisure, sickness, disappointed plans, frustrated efforts, and makes a sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives, and we lament that our voices must be silent, and our part missing in the music which ever goes up to the ear of the Creator. How does the musician read the rest? See him beat the time with unvarying counts and catch up the next note true and steady, as if no breaking place had come between. Not without design does God write the music of our lives. Be it ours to learn the time, and not be dismayed at the "rests." They are not to be slurred over, not to be omitted, not to destroy the melody, not to change the keynote. If we look up, God Himself will beat the time for us. With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next note full and clear. If we say sadly to ourselves, "There is no music in a rest," let us not forget "there is making of music in it."

Not long ago, a lady living in Hartford, Conn., bought at an auction in New York a painting begrimed with smoke and dirt. Her friends laughed at her for buying such a "worthless daub," but she took the picture to a restorer of old paintings, who, after hours of patient labor in removing the dirt, brought to view a beautiful sixteenth century painting, representing a mother with her children. The painting is of almost priceless value. The penny they brought the Master was coined from base metal, but the image on it gave it value.

We are made in the image of God, and that makes us precious in His sight. The skin may be black or yellow, or brown or white--it matters not. Sin may have obscured the image, but we are Christ's coins; He paid a great price for us, and seeks in every possible way to restore in us the image of Himself.

There is an old Dutch picture of a little child who is dropping from his hands a beautiful toy. Looking at the painting, one is suprized to see the plaything so carelessly abandoned; until, following the child's eye to the corner of the picture, one sees a lovely white dove flying down into the child's outstretched hands.

That is the way it will be with all of us as soon as we actually begin to see the pure beauties and joys of the higher life. All our silly playthings will be allowed to fall out of our hands. We shall let go of fashion and luxury, and idle dissipation, and proud ambition, and greed for gain, and desire for men's applause and for advancement in the world, and we shall stretch out our hands for the things that are best worth having. Those are the things which will stay with us. They will give something of their nature to our lives, and will ennoble everything they touch.

Rev. Dr. Samuel M. Zwemer, of Arabia, says that forty years ago Dr. Talbot Chambers preached a missionary sermon in one of the New York churches, on a rainy Sabbath, when there was only one man in the audience. He made an appeal for the payment of the deficit of the Dutch Reformed Board. That deficit amounted to $55,000, and $11,000 were needed immediately to meet the crisis. Before Dr. Chambers went to bed that night there was a ring at the door, and Mr. Warren Ackerman announced himself as the man who had heard the sermon that morning. He drew out his check-book and wrote his check for $11,000. Early in the morning there was a ring at the door, and there stood Mr. Ackerman asking for a return of the check which he had given the previous night. "Now," Dr. Chambers thought, "he is coming back because he feels he has given too much, and is giving one-half of the total amount needed." But when the check was filled in the amount was $55,000, the largest single gift ever recieved by the Reformed Board. In such fashion does a sense of personal responsibility enable men to do exceeding abundantly above all that they are able to ask or think for the kingdom of God.

Yes, we will have a new song. It is the song of Moses and the Lamb. I don't know just who wrote it or how, but it will be a glorious song. I suppose the singing we have here on earth will be nothing compared with the songs of that upper world. Do you know the principal thing we are told we are going to do in heaven is singing, and that is why men ought to sing down here. We ought to begin to sing here so that it won't come strange when we get to heaven. I pity the professed Christian who has not a song in his heart--who never feels like singing. It seems to me if we are truly children of God, we will want to sing about it. And so, when we get there, we can't help shouting out the loud hallelujahs of heaven. by D. L. Moody.

An officer in India, who one day fell asleep with his left hand hanging over the couch, was awakened by his young pet lion licking him. The rough tongue brought blood, and the officer tried to withdraw his hand. At the first movement the lion gave a short growl and grasped the hand more firmly, upon which the officer, seeing that his lion cub had become suddenly changed from a domestic pet to a wild beast, took a loaded pistol from under his pillow with his right hand and shot the animal dead.

There are pet sins that men caress, parade, and boast of. They appear harmless enough to the casual observer, but at some unexpected moment these become a "roaring lion seeking whom he may devour."

Science hath measured man in part; in the labratory, science points to an analysis of a man weighing a hundred and fifty pounds. In one jar are ten or twelve quarts of water, in another jar the lime, the ash, the carbon, the phosphates, and then a tiny vial holding a little iodin, and a little phosphorus. But that row of jars containing all the elements of the body must not be labeled man. Beyond those jars is a certain immeasurable element, an impalpable something, an invisable essence, a secret spirit, a hidden power, that is fenced about with bones and sinews, but that will suddenly compel you to laugh, to love, to burn with moral indignation, and will spread out before you a canvas and dim your eyes with tears; that will wave a wonder-working wand woven of words, and show you an imperial palace built yonder upon foundations of clouds, and then with a stroke dissolve all, and leave not a wrack behind. These twelve jars, analyzed by science, can not write poems or paint pictures, or carve altars, or enact laws, or sing lullabies,or create a Christmas tree. by N. D. Hillis.

An officer from Japan, visiting America, one day, while looking about a big city, saw a man stop a milk-wagon.

"Is he going to arrest a man?" he asked.
"No," was the answer; "he must see that the milk sold by this man is pure, with no water or chalk mixed with it."
"Would the chalk or water poison the milk?"
"No; but people want pure milk if they pay for it."
Passing a whisky saloon, a man staggered out, struck his head against a lamp-post, and fell to the sidewalk.
"What is the matter with that man?"
"He is full of bad whisky."
"Is it poison?"

"Yes; a deadly poison," was the answer.
"Do you watch the selling of whisky as you do the milk?" asked the Japanese.
At the markets they found a man looking at the meat to see if it was healthy.
"I can't understand your country," said the Japanese. "You watch the meat and the milk, and let the men sell whisky as much as they please."

Dr. John Barnardo, who devoted his life to the rescue and cure of poor children, tells the experiences here quoted:

A lady on one occasion came to Stepney in her carriage. A child was in it. I granted her an interview, and she laid down five 100-pound notes, saying they were mine if I would take the child and ask no questions. I did not take the child. Again, a well-known peer of the realm once sent his foot-man here with 100 pounds, asking me to take the footman's son. No. The footman could support his child. God and silver will never open my doors unless there is real destitution.

"It is to the homeless," said the doctor, "the actually destitute, that we open our doors day and night, without money and without price." (Text.) --Westminster Gazette, London.

Dr. N. D. Hillis, speaking of the perversion of men's talents to low and bad uses says:

And oh, the pity of the waste and abuse of these gifts! Oh, the sorrow of Jesus at these opportunities despised and flung away! Are roses reddened for the swine to lift its tusk upon? Are the pearls made to be flung in the mire, in which they are trampled and lost? Is a hospital fitted up as a room in which physicians and nurses riot, drinking up the precious wines, consuming the jellies, wasting the soft linens, while wounded soldiers lie in the darkness without, moaning and dying as their own life-blood ebbs away in the black night? When Philadelphia, in the morning after Gettysburg, rushed a relief train to the battle-field, how would the whole land have quivered with indignation at the news that the officers in charge had forgotten sobriety and honor, and looted the train of its gifts, counting the treasure to be personal to themselves, in utter contempt of heroes wounded and dying?

We shall not die until our work be done;

We shall not cease until our course be


We shall not fade or fail

While heart and faith prevail,

Or aught is to be won

Beneath the constant sun.

Author Unknown

There was a man who dreamed that he died and, seeking admission to paradise, was refused. He attempted to excuse his lack of religious faith and fidelity by the old pretext that, while he looked after worldly affairs, his wife went to church for both. "Well," said the gatekeeper, "she has gone in for both!"

Union With Christ. Christ is necessary to the Christian, but is not the obverse true also. If both are bound up in the same life, can one be injured without suffering to the other? This is the lesson which a recent writer finds taught by the ivy:

Some of the creeping plants, it is said, such as the ivy, entwine themselves so intimately with the masonry to which they cling that it would be unsafe to try to remove them-- the building would be injured by their being torn away. And so our Lord Christ, with reverence , be it said, can not endure the loss of one of His members: He would be injured, mutilated, by only one of them being taken away, so close is the union between Him and them.

On all sides we may see that the stern laws which are necessary to our development my become exhaustive and destructive, passing beyond a given limit, as in athletics a man may be overtrained. And all this is just as true of our moral as it is of our physical and intellectual nature. A fair share of hardship develops heroic qualities, but when existence becomes too hard it breaks the spirit; the child cruelly treated becomes cowed; men and women bred in misfortune's school become timid, nervous, cowardly. So, if heaven did not temper life, the finer qualities could never be developed in us. Burdens too heavy to be borne would break our heart; temptations too fiery, or protracted, wear out our patience; sorrows too acute drink up our spirit. Overborne by unmittigated pressure, we should lose all faith, courage, hope; nothing would be left to us but atheism, cynicism, despair.--- W. L. Watkinson, "The Transfigured Sackcloth."


  1. Jesus
  2. Jesus in Heaven
  3. Jesus, precious name in death
  4. Joining the church
  5. Journey to heaven with Jesus
  6. Key-Note of Life
  7. Kindliness, Sense Of
  8. Lack of spiritual discernment
  9. Lambs safely folded.
  10. Let children come.
  11. Letter of God
  12. Letter of God, #2
  13. Life.
  14. Life Cheap?
  15. Life Continued.
  16. The Life Cycle.
  17. Life Journey.
  18. Life one great ritual.
  19. Life, persistence of.
  20. Life recrudescent.
  21. Life, response of.
  22. Life time for work.
  23. Limitation of mercy
  24. Lincoln's regard for children
  25. Little concern for future
  26. Live and Help Live.
  27. Living For God
  28. Living On The Bible
  29. Long life and hard study.
  30. Looking both up and down
  31. Losing Your Head!
  32. Love rather than knowledge
  33. Lure of imagination
  34. Man redeemable
  35. Many Mansions
  36. Materialism Inadequate
  37. Measure for measure
  38. Metaphors of Life by Prior
  39. Mission Fruit
  40. Missionary Mistakes
  41. Missionary Prayer
  42. Mixed sentiment
  43. Modest Benevolence
  44. Modesty
  45. Momentum
  46. Money cannot buy heaven
  47. Mother instinct.
  48. Motto for Every Home
  49. Need of the church
  50. New Powers In Heaven
  51. New Song
  52. A Noble Life.
  53. Not one life destroyed
  54. Obligations
  55. Obstacles
  56. Offense of The Bible
  57. Optimism
  58. The Other Side
  59. Overdoing It Could Be Dangerous
  60. The Overseeing God
  61. Pain
  62. A Passion For Life
  63. Peace Pact
  64. Peril of prosperity
  65. Perseverance
  66. Persistence in missionaries
  67. Personal evangelism
  68. Personality is Mystery
  69. Personal Preaching
  70. Perversion Of Gifts
  71. Pet Sins
  72. Philanthropy
  73. Plain Every Day Goodness
  74. Poem by Daisy Rinehart
  75. Poison Drink
  76. Prayer for Faith
  77. Profit
  78. Recognizing God
  79. Regard For The Bible
  80. Resistance
  81. Resistance as Leverage
  82. Rest
  83. Restoration
  84. Restoring God's Image
  85. Revealing the Face Of The Gospel
  86. Road To Faith
  87. Sacred Things
  88. Safe Children.
  89. Saved By a Child.
  90. Self-mastery
  91. The Sense Of God
  92. The searching Christ
  93. Shepherd carries lambs before.
  94. Skill with tenderness.
  95. Sleepless Care Of God
  96. Spiritual Flood-Tide
  97. Superiority To Misfortune
  98. Surface Lives
  99. Sunshine In The Church
  100. Tapestry of God's People
  101. Tenor of Scripture
  102. Testimony To The Bible
  103. Therapeutic Christ
  104. Time Brings Fortune
  105. Timely appeal for help.
  106. Timely message
  107. Things Too Important
  108. To Live Is Christ
  109. The Tree of Life.
  110. Treasures Laid Up
  111. Tree Spiritual Symbol
  112. Trial Means Of Grace
  113. Uncalculating Gratitude
  114. Unexpected obstacles
  115. Union With Christ
  116. Unity of Life
  117. Unseen places in character
  118. Unseen Results
  119. Unseen Service
  120. Unselfishness
  121. Uses of Affliction
  122. Value of A Dream
  123. Value of Experience
  124. Value of Kind Words
  125. Value Of The Bible
  126. Value of Observation
  127. Values
  128. Vicarious Salvation Impossible
  129. Voices Unrecognized and Disregarded
  130. Wait And Work
  131. When God Doesn't Answer
  132. Willing Service
  133. Will of God.
  134. The Will of the Wise
  135. Winning One Means Winning Many
  136. Word of God Freed
  137. Word of God Universal
  138. Work
  139. Working church members
  140. Wounds that speak.

Return to the first page of Sermon Starter.

Christ's presence with His saints constitutes a pledge that their powers will be adopted to their new condition, and that the loftiest sources of enjoyment will be opened for their participation. These bodily and mental capacities with which man was originally endowed by God, were grievously impaired through the entrance of sin into the world. But in that blessed world, the spirit will be made capable of wondrous discoveries as to the works and ways of God, of enraptured contemplation on the plan of Providence, and out of the riches of His goodness, and the boundless treasures of His love, will have every desire satisfied, and will have fresh sources of delight continually abounding. How decided and full must the happiness of the Saint be, when he has taken possession of the kingdom prepared for him from the beginning of the world, when he "shall be for ever with the Lord." by Rev. Andrew R. Bonar, D. D.

A machine can tell us something about its, but it can not produce another machine. The gospel of materialism is inadequate to explain the world.

"Give me matter," said Kent, "and I will explain the formation of a world; but give me matter only, and I can not explain the formation of a caterpiller."

The glory of the Creator has not descended to man and it will not. Matter, in all its inertia and helplessness but adds to the angelic refrain, "Worship God."

You can limit the working of almighty power, and can determine the rate at which it shall work on you. God fills the water pots to the brim, but not beyond the brim; and if, like the woman in the Old Testament story, we stop bringing vessels, the oil will stop flowing. It is an awful thing to think that we have the power, as it were, to turn a stopcock, and so increase or diminish, or cut off altogether, the supply of God's mercy and Christ's healing and cleansing love in our hearts. You will get as much of God as you want, and no more. The measure of your desire is the measure of your capacity, and the measure of your capacity is the measure of God's gift.--Alexander McLaren.

A bitter fountain comes rushing down the mountain side, and drinking thereof, the people of the city are poisoned. Along comes a man who says: "I will build a lime factory just above the city, and pour a stream of lime-water into the bitter fountain." Jesus' method was simpler. Go higher up, into the mountain of God, and strike the rock, that sweet waters may gush forth, to flow through the land, carrying health and happiness to all that stand upon the banks of this river of water of life. Jesus reformed institutions by reforming human nature. He was a fundamental thinker. He dealt with causes.-- N. D. Hillis.

Mr. Edmund Driggs, of Brooklyn, gives a motto that came into his life like an influence, and greatly helped him toward success. At the age of fifteen he left home to engage with an older brother in the freighting business on the Hudson River. The first duty he performed on the vessel was to go aloft to reef the pennant-halyards through the truck of the topmast, which was forty feet above the top of the mainmast, without any rigging attached thereto. When the sailing-master had arranged the halyards over his shoulder, with a running bowline under his right arm, he ordered him aloft. The new sailor looked at the sailing-master and then aloft, and then asked the question, "Did anybody ever do that?" "Yes, you fool," was the answer. "Do you suppose that I would order you to do a thing that was never done before?" The young sailor replied, "If anybody ever did it, I can do it."He did it. That maxim has been his watchword through life. Tho he is now over seventy years of age, he is still engaged in active business life, and whatever enterprise he undertakes the watchword still is, "If anybody ever did it, I can do it." Wilbur F. Crafts, "Successful Men of To-day.

One of Baron Rothchild's peculiarities was to conceal his benevolence. He gave away a great deal of money, but if the one who received it ever mentioned the fact so that it came back to the baron's ears, he never got any more. His contributions to general benevolence were always anonymous or passed through the hands of others. His name never appeared upon any benevolent list.

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      There is a city of God for me. His promises, thick as the fragments of the jasper floor, will all be redeemed. He has prepared for me a city. Kings have reared their cities. Rome sits on her seven hills, and Venice on her lagoon, the Queen of the Adriatic; Naples on her crescent bay, Paris on the Seine, and Vienna on the Blue Danube. But in the city "not made with hands," God has combined all beauty and opulences suited to a spiritual body. There will be song and worship, work and rest. The expectation of it has given a luster to many a humble life and the death-bed. It is our privilege to walk in the light of this inspiring hope. In all our study and labor, in all our joy and gloom, let this eternal, illuminating truth of the lordship of God and his public presidency over all events interpret every mystery, for ''all these come forth from the Lord of hosts, wonderful in counsel and excellent in working." by Rev. R. S. Storrs, D. D.

(Video that's all about finishing strong.)

There are no wrecks among the golden ships of the heavens, for a master hand keeps the movements of the fixt spheres in unison. An effort is being made to have unison among the movements of all ships at sea. The proposal (approx. 1911) is that the Eiffel tower be equipped with a wireless apparatus, powerful enough to send Hertzian waves completely round the world, that ships may not be wrecked by being confused as to the longitude. It is said that all ships in communication with Eiffel tower will harmonize in their movements. Noon and midnight will be indicated by a prearranged signal.

The Church is a ship of state with its members as the crew. Each church is commanded to keep in constant and direct communication with the great Head of the Church, the high tower of righteousness, Jesus.


The Christmas Card is a Hallmark Channel original movie produced by RHI Entertainment. It was released December 2, 2006, and was written by Joany Kane and directed by Stephen Bridgewater. The movie was filmed on location in Nevada City, California.

In the midst of war in Afghanistan, Cody Cullen (John Newton) is touched by a Christmas card sent by Faith Spelman (Alice Evans) from the small, picturesque town of Nevada City, California. As months pass, the card never leaves his side, giving him the strength to survive and setting him on a mission to find her.

Hallmark Channel collaborated with Operation Dear Abby, who issued a special message in her column: "This holiday season – support the troops by sending a message to our servicemembers." The network also put together a national Cards for Troops campaign and a partnership with America Supports You to build support of Americans for the men and women of the U.S. Armed Services. Hallmark Channel also set up a satellite link to reunite Jennifer Parsley, a young woman from Porter, Texas who sent thousands of cards to troops through Operation Gratitude and in the process met serviceman Jeremy Harshman, who is deployed overseas.

(To learn more about "A Soldiers' Silent Night" click here)

Silence by Frederick E. Snow, The Outlook 1911

The purple flushing of the eastern sky;
The stately progress of the sun toward
Night's mantle dropping from the quiet
The holy hush which brings God's presence
The dusky woods where cooling shadows
Where birds are still and Nature to repose
Sinks gently down; dews falling on the
Mountains sublime in distance looming high;
The smile of friends when love surpasses
The hand-clasp, given when sorrow is too
For words. Ah me, the silence of life
Are mightier far, and higher lessons teach
Than all its noisy clamor! Let us reap
The bliss of those who keep themselves
from strife.

These men live and die for our "safe" silent nights. Please remember their sacrifices this season and write them before you sit down to abundant dinner or quiet, peaceful "silent night."
Write a British Soldier at Christmas Time.

Write a Canadian Soldier at Christmas Time.


Currier and Ives lithographs depicted a variety of images of American life, including winter scenes; horse-racing images; portraits of people; and pictures of ships, sporting events, patriotic and historical events, including ferocious battles of the American Civil War, the building of cities and railroads, and Lincoln's assassination.

The original lithographs shared similar characteristics in inking and paper, and adhered to folio sizes. Sizes of the images were standard (trade cards, very small folios, small folios, medium folios, large folios), and their measurement did not include the title or borders. These sizes are one of the guides for collectors today in determining if the print is an original or not. "Currier used a cotton based, medium to heavy weight paper depending on the folio size for his prints until the late 1860’s. From about 1870, Currier & Ives used paper mixed with a small amount of wood pulp." In addition, Currier’s inking process resembled a mixture of elongated splotches and dashes of ink with a few spots, a characteristic that modern reproductions would not possess.

"In 1907 when the firm was liquidated most of the lithographic stones had the image removed and were sold by the pound with some stones final home as land fill in Central Park. Those few stones that managed to survive intact were of large folio Clipper Ships, small folio Dark Town Comics, a medium folio "Abraham Lincoln" and a small folio "Washington As A Mason"".

Links To Currier & Ives Sites:

Said Sir John Herschel, "I could see Sirius announcing himself," as he swept the heavens with his telescope, in search of Sirius, "till the great star rushed in and filled the whole field of vision with a sea of light." The time came for Whitefield to die. The man had been immortal till his work was done. His path had been bright, and it grew brighter to the end, like that of the just.

"You had better be in bed, Mr Whitefield." said his host, the day he preached his last sermon.

"True," said the dying evangelist, and clasping his hands, cried: "I am weary in, not of, thy work, Lord Jesus."

He preached his last sermon at Newburyport, pale and dying; he herein uttered one of the most pathetic sentences which ever came to his lips:

"I go to my everlasting rest. My sun has risen, shone, and is setting--nay, it is about to rise and shine forever. I have not lived in vain. And though I could live to preach Christ a thousand years I die to be with Him--which is far better."

The shaft was leveled. That day he said: "I am dying!" He ran to the window; lavender drops were offered, but all help was vain; his work was done. The doctor said, "He is a dead man." And so he was; and died in silence. Christ required no dying testimony from one whose life had been a constant testimony.

So passed away on September 30th, 1770, one of the greatest spirits that ever inhabited a human tabernacle. The world has ever been an innumerable gainer by his life. He had preached eighty thousand sermons, and they had but tow key-notes: 1. Man is guilty, he must be pardoned. 2. Man is immortal, he must be happy or wretched forever. Weeping filled Newburyport, flags floated at half-mast, and the ships fired minute-guns.

"Mortals cried, a man is dead;
Angels sang, a child is born."

Rev. Daniel Rodgers, remembering in his prayer that Whitefield had been his spiritual father, burst into tears, and cried: "My father! my father! the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof."

Coke sleeps in his grand sea-grave, with the everlasting music of the billows for his dirge; Robert Newton sleeps at Easingwold; Richard Watson, and John and Charles Wesley slumber in a London graveyard; and George Whitefield's dust rests in its Transatlantic abode till

"That illustrious morn shall come,"

when the "dead in Christ shall rise," and they will meet in glory, to die no more. Meantime, earth holds no mightier dust. Blessed be God that ever they lived, and left their influence to mould humanity.

by Rev. Abel Stevens, D. D.