le situation at once,
and saying: "In the name of the Father, Aunt Susan, what were you doing
with your coffee-grinder down in the cellar on this beautiful Sabbath
morning? You like your cup of coffee, and I also like the coffee that
you make; thank God that you have it, and thank God that you have the
good health to enjoy it. We can give praise to the Father through eating
and drinking, if, as in everything else, these are done in moderation
and we give value received for all the things that we use. So don't take
your grinder down into the cellar on the Sabbath morning; but grind your
coffee up here in God's sunshine, with a thankful heart that you have it
to grind."

And I can imagine him, as he passes out of the little front gate,
turning and waving another good-bye and saying: "When I come again, Aunt
Susan, be it week-day or Sabbath, remember God's sunshine and keep out
of the cellar." And turning again in a half-joking manner: "And when you
take those baskets of eggs to town, Aunt Susan, don't pick out too many
of the large ones to keep for yourself, but take them just as the hens
lay them. And, Aunt Susan, give good weight in your butter. This will do
your soul infinitely more good than the few extra coins you would gain
by too carefully calculating"--Aunt Susan with all her lovable
qualities, had a little tendency to close dealing.

I think we do incalculable harm by separating Jesus so completely from
the more homely, commonplace affairs of our daily lives. If we had a
more adequate account of his discourses with the people and his
associations with the people, we would perhaps find that he was not,
after all, so busy in saving the world that he didn't have time for the
simple, homely enjoyments and affairs of the everyday life. The little
glimpses that we have of him along these lines indicate to me that he
had. Unless we get his truths right into this phase of our lives, the
chances are that we will miss them entirely.

And I think that with all his earnestness, Jesus must have had an
unusually keen sense of humour. With his unusual perceptions and his
unusual powers in reading and in understanding human nature, it could
not be otherwise. That he had a keen sense for beauty; that he saw it,
that he valued it, that he loved it, especially beauty in all nature,
many of his discourses so abundantly prove. Religion with him was not
divorced from life. It was the power that permeated every thought and
every act