I look on this mother, who stands with her child on the side of the sinking wreck, to catch the last chance of a passing boat. She catches it—not to leap in herself; but, lifting her boy in her arms, and printing a mother’s last kiss upon his rosy lips, she drops him, and remains behind herself to drown and die.
Or I look at that maid in old border story, who, having caught a glance of the arrow that, shot by a rival’s hand, came from the bushes on the other bank, flung herself before her lover, and received the fatal shot in her own true and faithful heart.
I look at these things, and seeing that love is strong as death, I urge you to cultivate the love of Jesus, and go in its divine strength to the field of duty, and to the altar of sacrifice. —GUTHRIE.