He holds the master-key of joy and sorrow 
That opens every heart.

The burdened souls that pass him on the highway 
Turn back to take his hand,
And murmur low, with tear-wet eyes of anguish, 
"You know--you understand."
-Annie Johnson Flint.

Oh to get men in touch with Christ!  We must present Him.  We must somehow give Him; not merely preach Him, but present Him.  We must be so identified with Him that in a certain sense it may be true: "I that speak unto thee am he." And where shall He be seen except in death?  The Cross is the supreme attraction.  C. M. Ciow has said: "The symbol of the Christian church is not a burning bush, nor a dove, nor an open book, nor a halo round a submissive head, nor a crown of splendid honour.  It is a Cross."
We have met many who lightly sing:

Let the beauty of Jesus be seen in me;
All His wonderful passion and purity.

But jolliness may not reveal Jesus to others.  Paul said: "Death worketh in us, but life in you." It never occurred to Paul that a "happified" kind of experience was the supreme attraction.  God does need a much happier people, but "in much affliction with joy of the Holy Ghost" is infinitely deeper than jolliness and gush.  There is only one way in which you and I can draw souls to Christ.  That is by the way of the Cross, the way of sacrifice, the way of death.  A Spirit-filled evangelist, much used and much abused, said concerning the secret of his fruitful ministry: "We personified Someone, and that was the attraction.  I have not the insufferable conceit to suppose that it %vas anything in me that drew them.  I said to Jesus: 'I will suffer anything if you will give me the keys.' And if I am asked what was the secret of our power, I answer: first, love; second, love; third, love.  And if you ask how to get it, I answer: first, by sacrifice; second, by sacrifice; third, by sacrifice." The principle of the Cross must become our law of life.  We must thirst for it as for living water.  Let Christ be Lawgiver as well as Lamb.  And let sacrifice be the law of our daily lives.

O cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red 
Life that shall endless be.

Certainly the great trouble with many of our orthodox churches is that they are like great grain containers, full of unplanted wheat which has become musty, and moldy, and befouled by the rats of envy and jealousy.  If only each little grain had been rent asunder from its fellows, cast into the dark, wet earth, buried out of sight, and left alone to endure disintegration and death, what a harvest we would see!

Gospel groups of Christian young people have been multiplied during recent years.  This is a cause for much rejoicing.  But therein lies a grave danger.  The group spirit, the fleshly attachment, the emotional and the natural--all tend to preserve us from becoming Cyod's isolated "corn of wheat." Joseph, the overcomer, learned to be a king "separate from his brethren"--learned during thirteen long years of isolation, slavery, suspicion and slander.  Each Christian must learn to live and walk on his own two feet, go alone to his own funeral, climb his own Mount Moriah.  The martyrs found it lonely work, and so shall we.

There is no gain but by a loss;
You cannot save but by a cross.

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