_you_. This Jesus has the _all_ habit. He contracted it when He was down
on the earth. Our needs grew the habit. He _gave_ all. And He has a way
of coming in all the way, and of reaching in His pierced hand and
_taking_ all.

He might even put His hand in on that most sacred thing, that holiest of
all, that you guard most jealously--that box. It has heavy hinges, and
double padlocks, and the keys are held hard under the thumb of your
will. Of course there may really not be much in it; and again there may
be very much. But much or little, it is securely kept under that thick
broad thumb of yours.

Oh! you _give_; of _course_; yes, yes, we're all good proper Christian
folk here. We give a tenth, and even much more. We support an aggressive
missionary propaganda. That's the thing, you know, in our day, for good
church people. We give to all the good things. Ye-es, no doubt. And we
are very careful, too, that that _inconsiderate_ Hand shall not disturb
the greater bulk that remains between hinge and lock. That's _yours_. Of
course you are _His_, redeemed, saved by His blood.

Well, well, how these pronouns, "His," "ours," do get mixed up! How
lovely some things are to _sing_ about, in church, and special services,
at Keswick and Northfield. But through it all we hold hard to that key,
we don't let go--_even to Him_, though it is He who entrusts all to our
temporary keeping. We do guard the width of that opening crack, do we
not?

One day I looked through that crack and caught a glimpse of _His face_
looking through full in my own, with those eyes of His. And at first I
wanted to take the door clear off of its hinges and stand it outside