of all. Every man, every woman, every little child--all were
precious in His sight. It is man as man, Christ taught, that is of worth
to God.

Consider how much is involved in the bare fact that Christ came into the
world the son of a poor mother, and lived in it a poor man. "A man's
life," He said, "consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he
possesseth." And the best commentary on the saying is just His own life;
for He had nothing. There is something very suggestive in Christ's use
of the little possessive pronoun "My." We know how we use the word.
Listen to the rich man in the parable: "My fruits," "my barns," "my
corn," "my goods." Now listen to Christ. He says: "My Father," "My
Church," "My friends," "My disciples"; but He never says "My house," "My
lands," "My books." The one perfect life this earth has seen was the
life of One who owned nothing, and left behind Him nothing but the
clothes He wore. And not only was Christ poor Himself, He spent His life
among the poor. "To believe that a man with L60 a year," Canon Liddon
once said, "is just as much worthy of respect as a man with L6000, you
must be seriously a Christian." You must indeed. Yet that which is for
us so hard never seems to have cost Christ a struggle. We cannot so much
as think of mere money, more or less, counting for anything in His
sight. The little artificial distinctions of society were to Him
nothing, and less than nothing. He went to be guest with a man that was
a sinner. A woman that was a harlot He suffered to wash His feet with
her tears, and to wipe them with her hair. "This man," said His enemies,
with scorn vibrant in every word, "receiveth sinners and eateth with
them." And they were right; but what they counted His deepest shame was
in reality His chiefest glory.

Now, what does all this mean but simply this, that it was for man as man
that Christ cared? Observe the difference in the point at which He and
we become interested in men. We are interested in them, for the most
part, when, by their work, or their wealth, or their fame, they have
added something to themselves; in other words, we become interested when
they become interesting. But that which gave worth to man in Christ's
eyes lay beneath all these merely adventitious circumstances of his
life, in his naked humanity, in what he was, or might be, in himself.
This is why to Him all souls were dear. We love them that love us, the
loving and the lovable; Christ loved