venomous spittle of the serpent's poison sac spat out there. It was the
climax of hate, and the climax of His unspeakable love.



When Your Heart's Tuned to the Music.


Surely it was a long, rough road. Its length was not measured by miles,
nor years, but by the experiences of this Lone Man. So measured it becomes
the longest road ever trod, from purity's heights to sin's depths; from
love's mountain top to hate's deepest gulf. It makes a new record for
roughness. For no one has ever suffered what our Lord Jesus did; and no
one's suffering ever had the value and meaning for another that His had
and has for all men and for us. Not one of us to-day realizes how He
suffered, nor the intensity of meaning that suffering actually has for all
the race, and for those of us who accept it for ourselves.

It was a rough, long road, and He knew ahead that it would be. He saw
dimly ahead, then more sharply outlined as He drew on, those crossed logs
in the road, growing bigger and darker and more forbidding as He pushed
on. But He could not be stopped by that, for He was thinking about us,
and about His Father. He pushed steadily on, past crossed logs all
overgrown and tangled with thorn bushes and poison ivy vines, bearing the
marks of logs and thorns and poison ivy, but He went through to the end of
the road, He reached His world; He reached _our hearts_. And now He is
longing to reach through our hearts to the hearts of the others.

"But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed;