Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 January 1915 — Poor Yet Making Rich [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Poor Yet Making Rich

BY REV. L. W. GOSNELL

Aafataat io Am Dm. Moodr Mbi* ImSm*

TEXT—As poor, yet making many rich. -11 Cor. «:10. _____ On Christmastide a certain Christian worker was troubled because he

could not make many gifts. His poverty distressed him, until there began thrumming in bis brain the words of the text: “As poor, yet making ma n y rich.” He forgot his poverty and began to understand the Joy of the apostle, who had learned “to suffer need.” 1. Paul enriched the world by his

life. All his preaching was enforced by his testimony, “I live, yet not I but Christ liveth in me." Spurgeon comments on the wondrous power of George Muller’s preaching: it was quite simple, but the hearer felt that here was a man dealing with realities of which he knew. The bishop of Durham tells of a university preacher at Cambridge who generally spoke to empty benches, yet when the students were sick or dying they would send for this man; his life was fragrant. 2. His prayers were another source of Paul’s riches for the world. We may say without straining language that he prayed “without ceasing," and we may follow him here. Says John R. Mott: “It is possible for the most obscure person in a church with a heart right toward God, to exercise as much power for the evangelization of the world as it is for those who stand in the most prominent positions. Therefore no one is excusable if he commits the great sin of omitting to pray.” We can make missionaries and native churches rich, aye, and our own church and community, too, no matter how poor we may be. Dr. G. Campbell Morgan tells of a preaeher who would go from pew to pew in his church on weekdays and pray for those-who sat there on Sunday; Dr. Morgan ventures the opinion that this is perhaps the highest service that even a great preacher could do for his flock.

8. His writings are one of Paul’s gifts to the world. What a heritage are his epistles! We know how “Pilgrim's Progress” was written by a tinker in- Jail. If we object that this tinker had unusual genius, it may be replied that many ordinary persons, with love for Christ in their souls, have done valiant service with the pen. It was a letter from a friend, written with a faltering heart, that led Henry Clay Trumbull to Christ; the world knows of his splendid service as preacher, explorer, expositor, Sunday school worker and editor. We heard of a woman who watched the daily record of deaths in the papers and sent to every bereaved household a letter or booklet containing a word for the Master: Who* does not covet her reward and who could not do likewise? 4. His preaching was another of Paul’s blessings for men. He could say to multitudes of converts, as lie said to the Thessalonians, “What is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming?” Preachers, it has been said, are often like camels which are laden with spices and jewels, but they themselves feed on thistles. But though poor, how have they made many rich! We knew of one who had not realized all the ambitions of his early ministry; his churches had been obscure and his salary small, and it grieved him that his wife had dressed shabbily. Yet here, he had led a poor country lad to Christ; there, he had helped a boy get off to college; there, he -had loaned his books to a hungry soul. And at his funeral his body was borne of bishops and lawyers and magnates who came to shed sincere tears over the man who had done them the greatest service ever performed for them—who had led them to Christ. -

Spiritual treasure has been so showered upon us that we enrich men when we are unaware. We listened recently to the story of a young man who, after serving Satan well, had come to Christ. He was a sailor on an English ship, which was lying in a harbor off the coast of Cornwall. One quiet afternoon, as he was washing dishes there was borne to him from the shore the sound of Christian song. A casket was being carried through the village streets and the simple Cornish folk who followed were singing that noble hymn: O Ood. our help In ages past Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast. And our eternal home. Little did they think of their audience in the kitchen of the ship yon* der, but the song followed this wayward sailor lad over the high seas until he had found the true “Shelter from stormy blast” A soul in which Christ lives scatters light and Wising , poor, yet making many Jch.