d.

But this friend I speak of has supposed that, after the first flush of
feeling has spent itself--the way _we_ speak of such things done here, the
Master is walking down the golden street one day, arm in arm with Gabriel,
talking intently, earnestly. Gabriel is saying,

"Master, you died for the whole world down there, did you not?"

"Yes."

"You must have suffered much," with an earnest look into that great face
with its unremovable marks.

"Yes," again comes the answer in a wondrous voice, very quiet, but
strangely full of deepest feeling.

"And do they all know about it?"

"Oh, no! Only a few in Palestine know about it so far."

"Well, Master, what's your plan? What have you done about telling the
world that you died for, that you _have_ died for them? What's your plan?"

"Well," the Master is supposed to answer, "I asked Peter, and James and
John, and little Scotch Andrew, and some more of them down there just to
make it the business of their lives to tell others, and the others are to
tell others, and the others others, and yet others, and still others,
until the last man in the farthest circle has heard the story and has felt
the thrilling and the thralling power of it."

And Gabriel knows us folk down here pretty well. He has had more than one
contact with the earth. He knows the kind of stuff in us. And he is
supposed to answer, with a sort of hesitating reluctance, as though he
could see difficulties in the working of the plan, "Yes--but--suppose
Peter fails. Suppose after a while John simply _does not_ tell others.
Suppose their descendants, their successors away off in the first edge of
the twentieth century, get _so busy about things_--some of them proper
enough, some may be not quite so proper--that _they do not_ tell
others--_what then?_"

And his eyes are big with the intenseness of his thought, for he is
thinking of--the _suffering,_ and he is thinking too of the difference to
the man who hasn't been told--"what then?"

And back comes that quiet wondrous voice of Jesus, "Gabriel, _I haven't
made any other plans--I'm counting on them_."

The Secret of Winsomeness.

That's a bit of this friend's imagination, it's true. But--it's the whole
Gospel story, through and through. Jesus has made that plan. He has not
made any other plan. He's counting on us, each of us, each in his own
circle, in his own way, as comes best, most natural to him tactfully,
quietly, earnestly--simply that, b