Self: Self-Controlled

Self: Self-Controlled In His Presence
La Fontaine, chaplain of a Prussian regiment, preached a plain sermon on the sin of a hasty temper. The next day the major, a very passionate man, told him he had used his official liberty rather too freely. La Fontaine admitted that he had thought of him, but had no intention of being personal. "Well, it is of no use," said the major. "I have a hasty temper, I cannot help it, and I cannot control it. It is impossible." The next Sunday La Fontaine preached upon self-deception, and the excuses which men are apt to make, "Why," said he, "a man will declare that it is impossible for him to control his temper, when he very well knows that, were the same provocation to happen in the presence of his sovereign, he not only could, but would, control himself. And yet he dares to say that the continual presence of the King of Kings imposes upon him neither restraint nor fear!" The next day the major again accosted him. "You were right yesterday, chaplain," he said humbly. "Hereafter, when you see me in danger of falling, remind me of the King." Let us always remember we are in the presence of Christ. Surely we would not wish to let our passions loose in the presence of the King. The Invitation
There is a story of a young minister who was going home late one evening from church. He entered a crowded streetcar with his Bible under his arm and at once became the target for sneering remarks from some rough fellows. These remarks kept up, and as the young minister was leaving the car, to the amusement of his companions one youth said, "Say, Mister, how far is it to heaven?" What would be the actions of a consecrated Christian under such circumstances? Is it permissible to lose one's temper and blow one's top? Of course, one way to answer is to keep silent, but then one feels he is failing the Master. This young minister, with a quiet dignity and with all gentleness, replied, "It is only a step away; will you take it now?" Not a Coward
A young soldier who was showing signs of panic on the eve of his first battle was chaffed by a veteran. "Why, sonny," he said, "you're shaking with fear. Don't be such a coward." "I'm not a coward," hotly retorted the youth. "If you felt half as scared as I do, you'd run away!" He was right. That young man was not a coward because he felt fear, but he would have been a coward if he had allowed it to master him and drive him from his post of duty.