dissipation. There was about him that rare charm of frankness and sincerity. He was moral and upright, clean and wholesome in his habits. He was no coward—he was manly and courageous. He did not wait to come in the dark as did Nicodemus, he came openly in the public street during business. hours, when all could see. He was a reverent youth, and came kneeling to the Christ. He had faith, too, that Christ held the key to eternal life—and Jesus loved him. Mark was a very practical, matter-offact writer, and even he, reporting, says: "Jesus, looking upon him, loved him." What an opportunity to kneel at the very feet of the Son of God, the Lord of Life and Glory, to have his full attention, to win his admiration,-nay, more, his love! And then lose! What a tragedy! Jesus could not take him as a disciple and friend. He loved him, but had to leave him. Why? Because the young man loved money more than he loved doing the will of God and sharing the fate and friendship of Jesus Christ. God teach us this great lesson in our own day! Christ had a great gospel for this lovely and lovable young man, but the sermon was never preached. There was an impenetrable wall of gold between Christ and the man's soul.

IV

Another thought so close akin to our theme as to be a part of it is that many men and women who long to do good to their fellows are going the way of life without power to bless humanity, and yet Christ needs them and loves them and waits to

make them powerful in blessing, but cannot, becaus they are not entirely surrendered to his will.

Power is a strange and wonderful thing. It is on of the great love mysteries of God. How little w really know about it! What could be more myster ous and wonderful than the power of gravity? How marvelous the power of electricity! Multitudes o men harness these great and mysterious powers o nature, who, after all, know little about them. Bu there is a far greater power than either of these, an that is the power of a human personality clothing the divine presence of the Most High God.

That is a wonderful statement in the Old Testa ment, that when God wanted to save Israel from th hosts of Midian, "He clothed himself in Gideon. God is never able to give us the greatest power to bless humanity of which we are capable, until, emp tying ourselves of all selfishness and pride, we ar willing and glad to allow God to clothe himself in us, and go forth in us to win men to righteousness This old world, that has been rocked so horribly by the fierce storms of war, needs, more than anything else, that every sincere follower of Christ shall, with open heart, place himself humbly at the disposal of his divine Lord. Only then will he be able to sing:

"And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, an doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, whi built his house upon the sand: and the rain descended, an the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon th house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it." Matt. 7:26, 27.

HIS is the age of the great god Jazz, and

is pervading the most sacred precincts o our present-day life with the noisy sound ing brass and tinkling cymbals that are inevitab tokens of his presence. He seems to dominate near everything we do to-day. He has put a certain reck less speed mania into the people. We do not wal any more; we ride. And many ride as recklessly a Jehu drove. The wonderful invention, the automo bile, is robbed of much of its possible blessing t humanity by the speed maniacs who throng the high ways and make motoring for more sane and sensibl persons a nightmare of terror while it brings neithe comfort nor information nor real pleasure to them selves. Multitudes who would be healthier, happier and far more wholesome citizens without automo biles, live cramped and narrowed lives physically mentally, and spiritually, in order to possess them.

We are losing two of the finest arts of life, con versation and letter writing, because of the Jaz

spirit that has taken possession of our modern social relations. The telegraph, with its night letter of fifty words, has taken the place of the full and comprehensive expression of confidence, affection, hope, and good cheer, that brother, or son, or father, or husband, used to pen to the members of the family left at home, until letter writing is coming fast to be one of the lost arts. Some of the finest things in all literature are the published letters of cultivated, great-souled men and women, who a generation ago outpoured their thoughts to absent friends. I wonder if such volumes as those will ever again appear?

The art of conversation seems also to be going in the same way. There was a time when many men and women were famous for their gifts of conversation. They carried in their full minds treasures gathered through reading and travel and meditation, which made their speech like fountains of refreshment to their friends; but such conversation seems to be passing almost entirely out of modern society. The moment's chatter at the telephone largely usurps the communications when near by, and the occasional wire if they are separated.

The artificial Jazz spirit is eating into our homes with the most serious consequences. The home is the one place which, in the very nature of human relations, should be our social center; and it is ceasing to possess the characteristics that in poetry and story have made it a foretaste of heaven. People give all sorts of reasons why homes are built so much smaller at the present day, but is not the real reason that people use their homes very much less