all that we have to His blessed service.


At the close of the last century a thoughtful young Englishman asked the
governor of the East India Company to go to India to preach the Gospel.
The answer was: "The man that would go to India upon that errand is as
mad as a man who would put a torch to a powder magazine."

A few years ago Chunder Sen, the great scholar of India, died. On his
death-bed a friend asked him what he thought were the prospects of
Christianity in India. He answered: "Jesus Christ has conquered the
heart of India." Not that great battles are not yet to be fought, much
weary work to be done, but with more than half a million of Christians
in India, which have been won in this century, we are certain that the
nation will be won to Christ.

I turn to that dark continent which has had more of human sorrow bound
up in its history than any place on earth. Forty years ago in a cottage
in the highlands of Scotland an aged man said to his son: "David, you
will have family prayer to-day, for when we part we shall never meet
again until we meet before the great white throne." David Livingstone
read the thirty-fourth Psalm, the key-note of that wonderful life, and
then poured out his heart to God in prayer, threw his arms around his
father's neck and kissed him; they parted never to meet again in this
world, and so he went to Africa. He did a wonderful work in the
Bechuana country. He was a carpenter, blacksmith, teacher, laborer,
physician and minister to these poor souls, but the man's heart was in
the interior of Africa. One day, with about as much preparation as I
take when I go to the north woods of Minnesota, he left for the interior
of Africa. His route was along the path of slave traders, and every few