ome one--asking a silent blessing at the
meal--making a change in some personal habit--or some other apparently
trivial matter--the Spirit quietly makes clear _His wish_ as to what I
should do. But I hesitate: it seems hard. I do not say that I will not
obey, but actually _I do not_. Let me plainly understand that in such a
single failure to obey, self is again mounting the throne, and Jesus is
being dethroned and put over yonder on the cross.

Do some of us still hesitate at this forking of the roads, irresolute? A
crowned Christ is attractive. But self's tendrils, though small, are
tenaciously tough, and twine into so many corners and around some hidden
things. And the uprooting and outcutting mean sharp pain. Is that so?
And you hesitate? Please take another frank look.

Lock-Step.

These two forks differ radically. They differ in direction. One is to
the _left_; the other to the _right_. And these two words are
significant of more than direction. They differ in grade. This left-hand
road does not seem to have any grade. It is smooth and level, and
straightaway, _apparently_. But a keener look reveals a slant _down_,
very slight at first, but steadily increasing, not only in its downward
grade, but in the _proportionate_ grade down.

This right-hand road has a decided grade _up_ from the beginning, a
steep slant, that causes many to avoid it, though they feel impelled to
take it. Those who take it say that after the first decided step into it
the slant does not seem nearly so hard as before starting, and that
climbing it makes splendid muscle and gives an inspiring sense of
exhilaration from the very start. The atmosphere is rare and purifying
and invigorating. It is not traveled by so many, though the number keeps
increasing. But such rare companionship, hitherto unknown, they afford!

_The striking peculiarity_ of this road, however, is this, that each one
keeps lock-step with a certain One who leads the way. This One is
remarkable in appearance. His face combines all the strength and
resolution of the strongest man's with all the fineness and gentleness
of the finest woman's. But He bears peculiar marks as though He had been
through some terrible experience. His face has a number of small scars
as though it had been torn by thorns and cut by thongs. His hands and
feet look as though huge spikes had been forced through them. But the
glory-light of another world is in His eyes, and illumines His face
radiantl