"Now you just put your arm around my neck and hold steady while I
lift. That's it, get your weight on your right foot, lean forward, and
I'll get you atop this beast. Ah! that's the stuff, you're getting
stronger every minute--now steady just a moment, let me pick up that
oil bottle--all right--Get up! Bess--steady, girl, keep your hoofs in
the path, and we'll make it fine. There, that's the movement.

"The inn is only a mile down the road now, friend, and there is food
and a good bed awaiting you--oh, well, that's all right about your
money being taken, I'll take care of that. The innkeeper and I are
good friends, and likely with the good treatment you'll get you will
be on your way in a couple of days--"

And so they go, the donkey picking her way carefully over the rougher
places under the restraining voice of her master, while the wounded
man leans heavily upon his benefactor.

Then, you know the rest, fellows. That despised Samaritan saw the
thing clean through. He did not leave "his neighbour" until he had
spent a night with him at the inn and had an understanding next
morning with the innkeeper as to his safekeeping until able to resume
the journey.

And what did our Lord teach in that graphic story? Why, simply this:
Anybody whom you can help is your neighbour. If there is a poor man at
my door needing something I can give, he is my neighbour. Or, if there
is a rich Chinaman six thousand miles across the seas, needing the
spiritual help I can send him through my prayers, my gifts, or my
personal attention--he is my neighbour. Distance, short or long, is