November 2

"The people that do know their God shall be strong and do exploits."—Daniel 11:32.

I HAVE great need of more valour and vigour in my Christianity. "Every morning brings a noble chance," but every chance does not bring out "a noble knight." I dally with Sir Gawain in the silk pavilions instead of facing the three enemies with Sir Gareth.

I am tempted to keep back part of the truth. Its side of grace, of sweetness, of love unutterable; its precious promises and winning invitations—it is easy for me to dwell on these. But I do not insist on the wholesome severities of the Bible. I shrink from saying, Our God is a consuming fire.

I am tempted to be silent in certain companies. To those who share my faith, it is pleasant to speak of the things which concern the King—their King and mine. But among the men of the world, and the clever and witty people who laugh at religion, and the possessors of wealth and influence, I am in danger of lowering my flag and hiding my allegiance.

I am tempted to be lenient towards some sins. Society has a thousand excuses for what is false. In trade, in literature, in politics, a veil is thrown over things repugnant to my Lord. It is as if leprosy should be clothed in a marriage dress. And then it is hard for me to put the slug-horn to my lips and to blow "a dolorous blast."

I want more iron in my blood, more courage in my piety, more of the bracing north in my godliness as well as the soft south. "If I go forward I die,"—it is the song of the Ashanti warriors as they rush into battle,—"if I go backward I die; better go forward and die." Yes, yes; better go forward and die.