y must go and fight Philip of Macedon.
There was another orator of that day who could carry them away by his
eloquence at the time, but when the oration was over, all the
influence had gone; it was nothing but fine words. So a man may be
very eloquent and have a great flow of language; he may sway the
multitudes while they are under his influence; but if there is no love
at the back of what he says, it will all go for nothing. It was
Demosthenes' love for his country that stirred him, and then he
stirred the people.

When we get on to the higher plane of love it will not be hard for us
to work for the Lord. We will be glad to do anything, however small.
God hates the great things in which love is not the motive power; but
He delights in the little things that are prompted by a feeling of
love. A cup of cold water given to a disciple in the spirit of love,
is of far more value in God's sight than the taking of a kingdom, done
out of ambition and vain glory.

I am getting sick and tired of hearing the word, _duty_, _duty_. You
hear so many talk about it being their duty to do this and do that. My
experience is that such Christians have very little success. Is there
not a much higher platform than that of mere duty? Can we not engage
in the service of Christ because we love Him? When that is the
constraining power it is so easy to work. It is not hard for a mother
to watch over a sick child. She does not look upon it as any hardship.
You never hear Paul talking about what a hard time he had in his
Master's service. He was constrained by love to Christ, and by the
love of Christ to him. He counted it a joy to labor, and even to
suffer, for his blessed Master.

Perhaps you say I ought not to talk against duty; because a good deal
of work would not be done at all if it were not done from a sense of
duty. But I want you to see what a poor, low motive that is, and how
you may reach a higher plane of service.

I am thinking of going back to my home soon. I have in my mind an old,
white-haired mother living on the banks of the Connecticut river, in
the same little town where she has been for the last eighty years.
Suppose when I return I take her some present, and when I give it to
her I say: "You have been so very kind to me in the past that I
thought it was my duty to bring you a present." What would she think?
But how different it would be when I give it to her because of my
strong love to her. How much more she would val