our power to share with them. We cannot say it
is not our business. We cannot excuse ourselves on the plea of our own
business. This is our first business, to love God and man with all our
might. This problem before us calls for all our Christian discipleship.
Every heart in this church should cry out this day, 'Lord, what wilt
Thou have me to do?' And each soul must follow the commands that he
honestly hears. Out of the depths of the black abyss of human want and
sin and despair and anguish and rebellion in this place and over the
world rings in my ear a cry for help that by the grace of God I truly
believe cannot be answered by the Church of Christ on earth until the
members of that Church are willing in great numbers to give all their
money and all their time and all their homes and all their luxuries and
all their accomplishments and all their artistic tastes and all
themselves to satisfy the needs of the generation as it looks for the
heart of the bleeding Christ in the members of the Church of Christ.
Yea, truly, except a man is willing to renounce all that he hath, he
cannot be His disciple. Does Christ ask any member of Calvary Church to
renounce all and go down into the tenement district to live Christ
there? Yes, all.

"My beloved, if Christ speaks so to you to-day, listen and obey.
Service! Self! That is what He wants. And if He asks for all, when all
is needed, what then? Can we sing that hymn with any Christian honesty
of heart unless we interpret it literally?--

"'Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!'"

It would partly describe the effect of this sermon on Calvary Church to
say what was a fact that when Philip ended and then kneeled down by the
side of the desk to pray, the silence was painful and the intense
feeling provoked by his remarkable statements was felt in the appearance
of the audience as it remained seated after the benediction. But the
final result was yet to show itself; that result was not visible in the
Sunday audience.

The next day Philip was unexpectedly summoned out of Milton to the
parish of his old college chum. His old friend was thought to be dying.
He had sent for Philip. Philip, whose affection for him was second only
to that which he gave his wife, went at once. His friend was almost
gone. He rallied when Philip came, and then for two weeks his life