" I suppose while I
am talking you are thinking of the great sorrow in your own bosom. I do
not know anything about you, but if I were to come around to everyone of
you, and you were to tell me the truth I would hear a tale of sorrow.
The very last man I spoke to last night was a young mercantile man who
told me his load of sorrow had been so great that many times during the
last few weeks he had gone down to the lake and had been tempted to
plunge in and end his existence. His burden seemed too much for him.
Think of the broken hearts in Chicago tonight! They could be numbered by
hundreds--yea, thousands. All over this city are broken hearts.
If all the sorrow represented in this great city were written in a book,
this building couldn't hold that book, and you couldn't read it in a
long lifetime. This earth is not a stranger to tears, neither is the
present the only time when they could be found in abundance. From Adam's
days to ours tears have been shed, and a wail has been going up to
heaven from the broken-hearted. And I say it again, it is a mystery to
me how all those broken hearts can keep away from Him who has come to
heal them.
"That is Your Fault."
I remember a mother coming to me and saying, "It is easy enough for you
to speak in that way; if you had the burden that I've got, you couldn't
cast it on the Lord.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35