And Judas Iscariot | Page 7

way? What if he had hidden behind some great rock and
simply waited? While it is true that he must have trembled as he waited,
what if after it all he had simply thrown himself on the mercy of Jesus
and had said to him, "Master, I have from the first been untrue; for
thirty pieces of silver I sold thee and with these lips I betrayed thee
with a kiss; but Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy upon me"? There
would have been written in the New Testament Scriptures the most
beautiful story that the inspired book contains. Nothing could have
been so wonderful as the spirit of him who is able to save to the
uttermost, and who never turned away from any seeking sinner, and he
would, I am sure, have taken Judas in his very arms; he, too, might
have given him a kiss, not of betrayal, but of the sign of his complete
forgiveness, and Judas might have shone to-day in the city of God as
shines Joseph of Arimathaea, Paul the Apostle, Peter the Preacher.
The saddest story I know is the story of Judas, for it is the account of a
man who resisted the grace of God and must regret it through eternity.

AN OLD-FASHIONED HOME
TEXT: "What have they seen in thy house?"--2 Kings 20:15.
If you will tell me what is in your own house by your own choice I will
tell you the story of your home life and will be able to inform you
whether yours is a home in which there is harmony and peace or
confusion and despair. Let me read the names of the guests in your
guest book, allow me to study the titles of the books in your library in
which you have special delight, permit me to scan your magazines
which you particularly like, allow me to listen to your conversation
when you do not know that you are being overheard, give me the
privilege of talking but for a moment to your servants, and make it
possible for me to visit with your friends in whom you have particular
delight--and I will write a true story of what you have been, of what
you are, and of what you will be but for the grace of God, even though

I may not know you personally at all. In other words, whatever may be
seen in your home determines what your home is.
I was a man grown before I visited Washington, the capital of the
nation. I was the guest of a member of the President's Cabinet. Riding
with him the first evening, when the moon was shining, we suddenly
came upon the National Capitol, and I said to my host, "What in the
world is that?" He said, with a smile, as if he pitied me, "That is the
Capitol building, and that is the home of the nation." I am sure he was
right in a sense, because the building is magnificent, and is in every
way the worthy home of such a nation as ours; but I think I take issue
with him, after careful thought, in his statement that the Capitol
building is the home of the nation. I can recall a visit made to a home
which was not in any sense palatial, where the old-fashioned father
every morning and evening read his Bible, knelt in prayer with his
household about him, commended to God his children each by name,
presented the servants at the throne of grace, and then sang with them
all one of the sweet hymns of the church; and from the morning prayer
they went forth to the day of victory, while from the evening prayer
they went to sleep the undisturbed sleep of the just, with the angels of
heaven keeping watch over them.
I recall another home in the State of Ohio where the father and mother
were scarcely known outside of their own county. The size of their
farm was ten acres, but they reared two boys and two girls whose
mission has been world-wide and whose names are known wherever
the church of Christ is known and wherever the English language is
spoken. These, in the truest sense, are the homes of the nation, and such
homes give us men and women as true as steel.
Napoleon once was asked, "What is the greatest need of the French
nation?" He hesitated a moment and then said, with marked emphasis,
"The greatest need of the French nation is mothers." If you will ask me
the greatest need of America I could wish in my reply that I might
speak with the power of a Napoleon and that my words might live as
long, for I would say, the