They've forgotten his Master, if indeed--ah, yes, if indeed he _have_ a
Master! He has a _Saviour_, let us earnestly hope, and willingly
believe. But a _Master_! One that sweeps and sways his mind and culture
and life like the strong wind sweeps the thin young saplings in the
storm--clearly he knows nothing of that. Men are talking of _him_.

And here's another talking a bit It may be just a simple homely talk. Or
he may likewise be scholarly and eloquent. A man should bring his best.
The old classic is beaten oil for the lamps of the sanctuary. But
there's the soft burning fire of the real thing in his message. And the
people feel it. The air seems a-thrill with its quiet tensity. And the
last amen is said. And again they go out.

And here are two walking down the road together, and as they come to the
cross-street, one says to his companion, "Excuse me, please, I have to
go down _this_ way." And the "have-to" is the have-to of an intense
desire to get off alone. And as he goes down the side street he's
talking, but--to himself. Listen to him: "I'm not the man I ought to be,
I wonder if Jesus is really like he said. I wonder if the thing's really
so. I believe--yes, I really think I'll risk it. My life isn't like it
should be. I'll risk trying this Jesus-way. I'll do it."

The man's clean forgotten the speaker. Oh, yes, he remembers the tone of
the voice, and the look of the face, but indistinctly, far away. He's
face-to-face with Jesus! And the forgotten speaker is the finest
evidence of the faithfulness of his speaking. He is holding up the
light. And men run into the light. They've clean forgot the little tin
candlestick, they are so taken up with the light it holds.