There have been those who have tried to drive Him from the world by argument. This, likewise, has been of no avail. Atheism, agnosticism, and skepticism all fail before the living fact of the power of His presence in the world. One clear case of regeneration or one well-defined overruling of providence is sufficient to dispose of every argument of mere premise and conclusion which can be constructed against Him. The only argument against Him is an unfaithful follower, and that is refuted by a follower who is true. For Him the sword has no terrors. He never will flee persecution. There is no danger that He will ever be driven out. If there is any danger for Him today, it is that He be crowded out. There is one thing and one thing only which can defeat His purpose. That is the unwelcoming life, the closed heart, the master of the inn who says, “No room.” Let us not blame the innkeeper of the long ago. He did [not] know whom he was turning from his doors. He did not act in the light which twenty intervening centuries have given us. He was simply an innkeeper to whom business was business, and whose preference was naturally for the richest guests. Let us be moderate in our censure of him. Let us turn to the present. Let us find whether the doors of the throne rooms of our own hearts are open. Not many say they hate the Master or His Kingdom. Not many say they do not believe in Him. Not many are disposed to persecute. Not many even care to argue. But many say, “I haven’t time.” Lose what else we may in this busy time, we must find a place for Him and His words and His ways. A good watchword for this day of opportunity might be: “Make room for Jesus!” The Price of Liberty (1916) On the old battlefield of Sempach, where in 1386 the Swiss won a notable victory over the Austrians, there stands a monument of recognition to Arnold von Winkelried, a Swiss peasant, who on the day of that battle gave his life as the price of victory for his country. The Austrians were massed together with presented spears—“A living wall, a human wood.” There was only one hope of breaking through the armed line and that was for some one to dash against the phalanx and make an opening—at the cost of his life. Suddenly there was a cry: “Make way for liberty,” and Arnold von Winkelried rushed forward, gathering an armful of Austrian lances into his own breast, but opening a breach through which his comrades poured themselves against their foes. The Swiss marched to victory that day, but it was over the dead body of a man who loved them and their cause even unto death, a man who was moved by the love which lays down its life for its friends. There is another spot—a place unmarked by any monument—where earth’s supremest hero yielded up His life to make way for the liberty of His people. He gathered the wrath and the sting of a great world’s sin into His own heart, and led the way where others dared not tread.