Part 16 (2/2)
HARVESTS: JOY AND SORROW _'The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few'_ (Matthew ix. 37)
As we read these words of the Master we fancy we can see His benign and majestic Presence as He stops and, turning round, looks not upon the beautiful harvest fields, with waving corn, but upon the vast field of the world, with its teeming ma.s.ses of humanity.
So many are ready to look upon the cornfields of gain, to look for something to fill their baskets and store, but hearts like the Master's are wanted that see the great harvest fields of humanity, all ripe and ready to be gathered in. Hearts are wanted that will not only go out in sentimental sympathy, but that will give a helping hand, where it is required, leaving the fields of gain, and toiling for love amidst human need. There seem to be two thoughts in the mind of the Master. As He speaks He strikes two notes--one of joy, and one of sorrow.
A plentiful harvest always brings joy. Another harvest of the earth is being gathered, and as I write I am looking upon the golden cornfields, and see the men all busily engaged. Thank G.o.d for plenty!
Do we praise G.o.d sufficiently for His mercies? Do we always value them? Sometimes we do not fully appreciate them until they are withdrawn.
It seems to me that if the Master walked our crowded cities, He would repeat again those words, 'Truly the harvest is plenteous.' Plenty to reap; only labourers are wanted to go out. The ma.s.ses are still there; the need is for some one to go to the ma.s.ses.
Then the note of sorrow seems to drown and spoil the note of joy. 'The harvest is plenteous'--rejoice! 'But the labourers are few'--cause for sorrow. The ma.s.ses are there--the opportunity--but so few to take hold of it. Corn to be gathered in, but few reapers.
The harvest was plenteous in the time of Christ, but it is even more so now. The people are waiting for us, they expect us and look to us, who are the followers of Christ, to go to their help!
Oh, the open doors! Was the door of the public ear ever more ready to listen to us than at the present time? Those who once turned a deaf ear, and did not believe in us, now say, 'Yes, you are right. You have got the right thing, and are doing the right thing.'
Were people ever more ready to open their doors to us than they are now? How they appreciate the visit of the Salvationist! The doors, too, of the workhouses, the prisons, the hospitals are opening more widely to us.
Yes, the people are ready to open their hearts to us. The poor drunkard, as he rolls from one side of the road to the other, exclaims when he sees a Salvationist, 'G.o.d--bless--General--Booth!'
The ma.s.ses may not always rush as excitedly after us as they once did --there are so many counter-attractions now--but they are there. We must go to them; they need us.
I have heard the story of a little boy who lost his mother, and was found lying upon her grave weeping and praying. Some one who had felt moved to do something for the motherless boy discovered him in this position. 'Jesus has sent me to you!' said the lady. 'I am going to love you as my own little boy.' 'Oh,' he said, through his tears as he looked up as though he had been expecting her, 'so Jesus has sent you! You have been a long time coming though, haven't you?'
Do the sinners and drunkards feel we are a long time coming, because the labourers are too few, and you have kept back from becoming one?
Above the note of joy, above the plentiful harvest, rings out so loudly the note of sorrow--'But the labourers are few!' How few in comparison to the ma.s.ses! So few labourers who will put off the coat of formality, who will pull up the sleeve of ease! Few who will work by the sweat of their brow and make a sacrifice for souls! Sacrifice is needed in G.o.d's service to-day as much as ever, and never was there a more urgent call for men and women who, like our precious General, can say, 'I am never out of it; I sleep in it; I shall die in it.' Nothing worth anything can be accomplished without sacrifice.
How many are there in G.o.d's service who merely look on? More are wanted who will work. The success of The Army has been because of its willingness to come down to the level of the people--to strive to save them. A reckless dying to self is what is needed. Was it not dying made the harvest? The dying is part of the success. The grain was dropped into the ground, and died before it could spring forth and produce living results. There must be the dying to sin, and to self, and self-interests.
Men and women of heart are wanted--men and women, who in seeking souls will give themselves up in the spirit of the champion aviator who said, 'If I had not succeeded I should not have been here. I was determined to win, or die in the attempt.'
Labourers are wanted who will dig right deep down into the heart of sorrow, and find those desires and longings after purity and goodness which even the heart itself scarcely realizes are there.
In the man of the world, though one would hardly believe it as one sees the cynical look and sneer and hears him say, 'I don't want your church--your Army!' there is underneath, in spite of his apparent indifference, a longing after G.o.d and a disgust of the world.
Men and women are wanted to grapple with the vast harvest--this great opportunity--and to gather in G.o.d's sheaves. Oh, to leave the world of vice and folly as naked as the earth is after the harvest! Empty public-houses! Empty gambling dens! Empty abodes of impurity! Empty slums! Empty all places where G.o.d is not! But thanksgiving in the home; the House of G.o.d filled with rejoicing people, telling out of hearts of gladness that labourers came into the fields of sin and gathered them in.
Many letters, folded and handled until almost worn to pieces, but treasured above gold, lie before me. They are addressed to Kate Lee's spiritual children, to the sick, the discouraged, or those living far from an Army hall and rarely able to get to the meetings. These letters are short, often mere notes of one page, rarely running into more than two or three folios; and they are not clever. Kate had little imagination in her make up; she did not see pictures wherever her eyes lit, and never had time to give to studied composition. The value of these letters to us is that any ordinary girl, anyone with a heart 'at leisure from itself'
could write such letters. Over and over again in The Army Founder's life we find him saying, 'It is _heart_ work we want. HEART work.' It is because Kate Lee's letters came from a heart full of love that they reached hearts and never failed to bless them.
She had a delightful way of remembering the anniversary of some of her trophies' conversion. She called them birthdays. Here is a little sc.r.a.p to a man battling bravely against ill health and other adversities:--
I am enclosing a Money Order for five s.h.i.+llings so that you can get some little thing for yourself or your wife. Just a little birthday gift for _your twelfth birthday_. G.o.d bless you! Keep near to Jesus and do all in your power to lead those around you to Him.
Praise Him that He has kept you all these years. He is a wonderful Saviour and worthy of our praise.
No work of art was so beautiful in the eyes of Kate Lee as the photographs of men and women to whom G.o.d had given 'beauty for ashes.'
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