abrupt edge of a little hill in a Southern Japanese
city. There, in a great tree hanging out over the edge, had hung the bell
that called together the faithful retainers of the lord of the province,
when they were needed. There, nearly thirty years ago, a little band of
Japanese youth, of noble families, had gone out at break of day one
Sabbath morning, and solemnly covenanted to follow the Lord Jesus, and to
devote their lives to making Him known throughout their land. Boys still
in their tender teens most of them were. And that covenant was not
lightly made, for already the fires of persecution had been kindled, and
these fires burned fiercely but could not compete with the fire in their
hearts. And as one goes up and down the island empire of the Pacific
to-day, he can find traces of their lives cropping up everywhere, like
gold veins above the soil.

And as I sought to trace the hidden springs of the power at work behind
all this, I found it was in the _life_ of one young man, a simple, holy
life burning with a passion for Jesus. In this life could be found the
kindling of the tender flames burning so hotly in these young hearts. He
was a young American officer engaged, by the feudal lord of the province,
to teach military tactics and English. He dared not teach Christianity;
that would have meant instant dismissal. So for two years he _lived_ the
message, so simply and lovingly that he won the love of his pupils. Then
they came Sundays to his house to hear him read the English Bible, because
they loved him. As he prayed the tears would run down his face, and they
laughed to think a _man_ would weep, but they came because they loved him.
He really _loved them into the Christian life_. I was reminded of the line
in Hezekiah's song of thanksgiving after his illness, "Thou hast loved my
soul up from the pit."[61] This young teacher _lived his pupils to the
Lord Jesus_. The latter part of his life was a sad one, but nothing can
change the record of those earlier years.

I saw recently a news item telling how many million copies of the Bible
are being printed every year. The item slurringly remarked that the
statisticians didn't seem concerned yet with figuring up how many of them
were read. But, I thought, what these Bibles need is a new binding. This
Bible I carry is bound in the best sealskin, with kid-lining. It is
supposed to be the best binding for hard wear. But there's a much better
sort of leather than that for