in, but of giving more out. The unearthly loveliness of the opal
arises from the same process, carried on within the stone: the
microscope shows it to be shattered through and through with
numberless fissures that catch and refract and radiate every ray that
they can seize.

Yes, there lies before us a beautiful possible life--one that shall
have a passion for giving: that shall be poured forth to God--spent
out for man: that shall be consecrated "for the hardest work and the
darkest sinners." But how are we to enter in? How are we to escape
from the self-life that holds us, even after the sin-life has loosed
its grasp?

Back to the Cross: not only from the world of condemnation and from
the world of sinning does it free us as we accept it, but from the
power of outward things and from the thraldom of self: not only does
it open the door into the world of acquittal, and again into that of
holiness, but yet again into the new realm of surrender, and thence
into that of sacrifice. For the essential idea of the Cross is a life
lost to be found again in those around.

Let us look at God's picturing. As the plant develops there comes a
fresh stage of yielding. At first it was only the dead, disfiguring
leaves that had to go--now it is the fair new petals: they must fall,
and for no visible reason--no one seems enriched by the stripping.

And the first step into the realm of giving is a like surrender--not
manward, but Godward: an utter yielding of our best. So long as our
idea of surrender is limited to the renouncing of unlawful things, we
have never grasped its true meaning: that is not worthy of the name
for "no polluted thing" can be offered.

The life lost on the Cross was not a sinful one--the treasure poured
forth there was God-given, God-blessed treasure, lawful and right to
be kept: only that there was the life of the world at stake!

Death to Lawful Things is the Way Out into a Life of Surrender.

Look at this buttercup as it begins to learn its new lesson. The
little hands of the calyx clasp tightly in the bud, round the
beautiful petals; in the young flower their grasp grows more
elastic--loosening somewhat in the daytime, but keeping the power of
contracting, able to close in again during a rainstorm, or when night
comes on. But see the central flower, which has reached its maturity.
The calyx hands have unclasped utterly now--they have folded
themselves back, past all power of closing again upon the