FACE, AN INVITING
This is from The Boys' World:
A poor fellow in trouble, a stranger in a
big city, and sick and destitute, passed aimlessly
along the street, wondering what to
do and where to go. Passing an office window,
he looked up and caught sight of a
man's face. "I'll go in there and speak to
him—he looks so kind," was the instant resolve.
He went and found a friend indeed,
whose kindness brought the chance to help
himself, which the young man never forgot,
and afterward sought to repay.
"He looks so kind." Could there be a higher compliment? The man's face was an open invitation to come in and confide and get help.
Without speaking a word he gave this invitation, which led to so much for the friendless stranger.
But do you suppose that this kind look grew in a night or a day or a week? Can a fine steel-engraving be finished in a few hours? It takes line by line, day after day. Things worth while are not of instantaneous accomplishment. Now think of it. When is the best time to begin, if the art of looking pleasant and the possession of a kind face be achieved?
(1012)
Face Shows the Man—See Countenance, Grace in the.
Face, The Benignant—See Countenance,
Grace in the.
FACE, THE, REVEALING THE GOSPEL
When Margaret Andrews was twenty-five,
she received what she thought was a call to
the foreign mission field. Her parents, altho
they at first tried to dissuade her, put no obstacle
in the way of her hopes, and, full of
eagerness, she began training at a school in
another city. One day, says the California Advocate, she received a telegram. Her
mother had met with an accident, just how
serious could not at once be known. Margaret
packed her books and took the first
train home, expecting to return in a few
weeks. Long before the weeks had passed
she knew that her dream must be given up.
Her mother would never be able to do anything
again, and Margaret, instead of making
her journey to strange lands, saw herself shut
in to the duties of housekeeper and nurse.
For a year or two she bore her disappointment in silence; then she went to her pastor with it. The pastor was an old man, who had known Margaret all her life. He looked at her steadily for a moment. Then he said slowly, "You are living in a city of two hundred thousand people. Isn't there need enough about you to fill your life?"
"Oh, yes," the girl answered, "and I could give up the foreign field. It isn't that. But I haven't time to do anything, not even to take a mission-class, and to see so much work waiting, and be able to do nothing—"
"Margaret," the old minister said, "come here."
The girl followed him to the next room, where a mirror hung between the windows. Her reflection, pale and unhappy, faced her wearily.
"All up and down the streets," the old minister said, "in the cars, the markets, the stores, there are people starving for the bread of life. The church can not reach them—they will not enter a church. Books can not help them—many of them never open a book. There is but one way that they can ever read the gospel of hope, of joy, of courage, and that is in the faces of men and women.
"Two years ago a woman who has known deep trouble came to me one day, and asked your name. 'I wanted to tell her,' she said, 'how much good her happy face did me, but I was afraid that she would think it was presuming on the part of an utter stranger. Some day, perhaps, you will tell her for me.' Margaret, my child, look in the glass and tell me if the face you see there has anything to give to the souls that are hungry for joy—and they are more than any of us realize—who, unknown to themselves, are hungering for righteousness. Do you think that woman, if she were to meet you now, would say what she said two years ago?"
The girl gave one glance and then turned away, her cheeks crimson with shame. It was hard to answer, but she was no coward. She looked up into her old friend's grave eyes.
"Thank you," she said; "I will try to learn my lesson and accept my mission—to the streets." (Text.)
(1013)
