errorless order in church service—­these auxiliaries influence them so strongly in their sense of the beautiful that they think, “Surely I love God.  Why, of course I love God.”  But to love God involves something practical.  It means something more than mere profession.  It means rugged self-denial, Spartan heroism, perhaps the loss of an “arm” or the “plucking out of an eye.”  Base must have been the soul which was not attracted by One who “spake as never man spake”; low-minded the man who did not see in Him imperishable beauty and refinement of soul; but ah! discipleship means far more than that.  Christ had flown up to heaven.  Who now will prove his love for Him by obeying His commands?  Who will tarry in Jerusalem awaiting the coming Spirit, and then, the Comforter having come, be ready to “Go into all the world, discipling all nations”?  Answer:  All who are truly children of God.  The preaching of sanctification is the touchstone by which the genuineness of conversions can be tested.  The truly living “hunger and thirst after righteousness”; the dead do not “bother their heads about a second blessing.”

The steamer “Puritan.”

Let us illustrate:  It was fifteen minutes until the schedule time for the “Puritan” of the “Fall River Line” to leave her New York pier.  The evening was warm, and the usual crowd filled the decks.  Many had come on board to see their friends off for Newport, Bar Harbor and “the Pier.”  Passengers and their friends sat in groups and chatted, talked about the trip, the weather, the situation at Santiago, the flowers they held, the concert by the orchestra.  It was impossible for an observer to determine just who were passengers and held tickets, and who were merely bidding farewell to their friends.  Suddenly an officer in gold-braided cap and blue uniform appeared, and cried out with an authoritative voice and a look of command, “All ashore who are going ashore!  All ashore who are going ashore!” Immediately there were hasty hand-clasps and hasty good-byes, and a large part of the company marched quickly down the stairs and across the gang-plank.  Those who were left held tickets and were “going through.”

The stampede for shore.

In a revival of religion it is often a matter of considerable difficulty to determine the genuinely converted.  In the confusion of large altar services, and the crush of great congregations, who are the saved?  No man can tell.  Many are moved by sympathy for their friends.  Others are charmed by the congregational singing and the music of the organ.  Many see that the revival is bound to go, and, like Pliable, they are swept along for a time with it.  But there appears in this mixed company a man with the stamp of divine authority upon his brow, the gold braid of full salvation on his helmet, the dialect of Canaan on his tongue and the air of official appointment about his person:  “Without holiness no man