avenues of Love, and there may even be, and there is, a great deal of
charity without Love. It is a very easy thing to toss a copper to a
beggar on the street; it is generally an easier thing than not to do
it. Yet Love is just as often in the withholding. We purchase relief
from the sympathetic feelings roused by the spectacle of misery, at
the copper's cost. It is too cheap--too cheap for us, and often too
dear for the beggar. If we really loved him we would either do more
for him, or less. Hence, "If I bestow all my goods to feed the poor,
but have not love it profiteth me nothing."

Then Paul contrasts it with _sacrifice_ and martyrdom: "If I give my
body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing."
Missionaries can take nothing greater to the heathen world than the
impress and reflection of the Love of God upon their own character.
That is the universal language. It will take them years to speak in
Chinese, or in the dialects of India. From the day they land, that
language of Love, understood by all, will be pouring forth its
unconscious eloquence.

It is the man who is the missionary, it is not his words. His
character is his message. In the heart of Africa, among the great
Lakes, I have come across black men and women who remembered the only
white man they ever saw before--David Livingstone; and as you cross
his footsteps in that dark continent,

MEN'S FACES LIGHT UP

as they speak of the kind doctor who passed there years ago. They
could not understand him; but they felt the love that beat in his
heart. They knew that it was love, although he spoke no word.