An editorial article in a religious paper of rather old date contains the following good thing: "An English humorist rises above his usual level in a story he contributes to a weekly magazine, describing the stay of an angel in a London boarding house. The heavenly visitor has put on the fashion of our humanity, and passes for a man among his fellow-guests; but they are tempted to think him a fool because of his unselfish ways and his generous estimates of all around him. He seems unable to see the pettiness and shabbiness which display themselves under his very eyes. He thinks of each man as filling an honorable place in society in a brave and worthy fashion. But their astonishment is greatest when he comes into close relations with them. He takes it for granted that each of them is living the best life he knows of, and is walking on the heights of duty and of joy. He sees an infinite worth in their opportunities and their ideals, and rejoices to find himself in their company. The effect is that the better nature in them awakens, the pretenses and in the insincerities slough off, and they find themselves impelled to live as if all he saw in them were there in full abundance of life."

      There was once a heavenly visitor--not an angel, for, [96] as that writer justly remarks, an angel could not fill such a role as that--but One who had been with the Father from the beginning, and came down to be with men as man, and whose name was Immanuel, which is, being interpreted, "God with us." He lived just the kind of life the fancy of that humorist sketched--with one important exception: he was not blind to the faults of men, and at times rebuked severely. But his was the love that "taketh not account of iniquity." He saw it, but not to condemn. He had come to heal and to save. As a discord pains a sensitive ear, so the iniquities around him wounded his soul, for he was holy as the Father was holy. But his reproaches were few, his encouragements many and strong. When it was not necessary to point out a wrong, he did not expose it. He said not a word to the woman who bathed his feet with tears about her past life, but, seeing she knew, he sent her away into peace. He never mentioned Zaccheus' sin to him. Zaccheus knew it well enough, and there was no gain to discuss it. It was not the real Zaccheus, anyway, that had lived that covetous, fraudulent, publican life all these years. And, lo! the false Zaccheus slipped off as the man slid down the tree, and there stood before Jesus a new man who was without regret giving away half his fortune to the poor, and ready abundantly to undo the evil of other days, which he did before he had known love.

      Now love is appreciative of others. It sees the good and the possibility of good in them. It takes account of their weakness and their trials and the struggles, whether vain or successful. It appeals to the best in them as to the true self. It beholds every man an ideal [97] of that man, and will address itself to that ideal, in nothing put off by what the outward appearance may present to the contrary. It will say to a man who is all impulse and bubbling over as water, "Thou art Peter a rock!" and will hold that name before him through all vicissitudes and failures until he has realized it. It fancies to hear in the babe's prattle the articulation of a word, and answers accordingly, repeats the word and coaxes until the babe actually says it. It lifts up and does not tread down. It has confidence. It has courage, for the love of man conquers the fear of man. It lends endurance, for it "suffereth long" and "beareth all things."

      Back in the woods stood an old country inn which boasted of a piano. But the piano was old and distressingly out of tune, and the strings rattled loud and metallic, like the beating of a tin pan, and some notes were dumb. Everybody had banged on the old piano, and the children had hammered on it with their fists and with sticks. Now and then a guest sat down to it and touched it and turned away in disgust, or else laughed aloud and exposed the jarring sounds in a spirit of fun. But one day there came a master--one who knew and loved pianos and music; and he, too, touched the keys and drew back at the weird sounds. Being at leisure, however, and having the necessary instruments, he set about to restore it. He turned, he tightened, he loosened, he adjusted, he glued bits of felt on the hammers; and when he had finished, he once more ran his hand up and down over the keyboard, and was satisfied. Then he began to play with masterly hand, and as the melody filled the house young and old gathered around; and they who had before abused and ridiculed the old [98] piano now looked at one another and said: "Who would have thought it?" And there are souls, sinful, embittered, unlovely, abused, hated ridiculed, condemned, waiting only for the hand of the Master, the healing, helping touch of love, to redeem them; and from them, too, shall rise the song of praise of the love of God, the sweetest music in earth or heaven, unto the ears of the Father. My brother, have you that touch of redeeming love? Do you help to save or to destroy?

[TAG 96-99]