a defect; something not as it should be. And you
mothers all know how she felt, yes, and you true fathers, too. She was
heart-broken. And she turned aside from all the busy round of activity
in which she had been the natural leader. And for years she devoted all
her splendid talents, her strength and time, to just one thing, a very
simple thing; only this,--_getting a look of glad recognition out of two
babe-eyes._

_He_ looked into the face of His child, His world, for the look of
recognition. But there was none. And He was heart-broken. And He devoted
all His strength and time, Himself, for those human years to--what? One
thing, just one thing, a very simple thing, only this: to getting a look
of recognition out of the eyes of His child.

Aye, there's more yet here. He _looks_ into our faces, eager for that
simple direct answering look into His face and out of our eyes, yours
and mine. And we give Him--things, church-membership, orthodox belief,
intense activity, aggressive missionary propaganda, money in good
measure, tireless, and then tired-out service--_things!_ And all good
things. But _the_ thing, the direct look into His own face answering His
own hungry searching look, that look in the face that reveals the inner
heart that He _waits_ for so often, and waits, a bit sore at heart.

For you know the eye is the face of the face. It's the doorway into the
soul, out through which the soul, the man within, looks. I look at you,
the man inside here looks out at you through my eye. And I look at the
real you down through your eye. The real man is hidden away within, but
looks out through the eye and is looked at only through the eye. We
really give ourselves to Jesus in the look direct into His face which
tells Him all, and through which He transforms us.

A Heart-breaking Verse.

Then comes John's second heart-breaking verse; but it is just a bit more
heart-breaking in what it says. Listen: _He came to His own home, and
they that were His own kinsfolk received Him not into the house but kept
Him standing out in the cold and storm of the wintry night._

One of you men goes home to-night. It's your own home, shaped on your
own personality through the years. It's a bit late. You've had a long
hard day. You're tired. It's stormy. The wind and the rain chill you as
you turn the corner. And you pull your coat a bit snugger as you quicken
your steps and think of home, warmth and comfort, loved ones, and rest
for