"Oh, yes," he said, "he does try to tempt me. I lie here and see my old schoolmates driving along in their carriages, and Satan says: 'If God is so good, why does He keep you here all these years? You might have been a rich man, riding in your own carriage.' Then I see a man who was young when I was walk by in perfect health, and Satan whispers: 'If God loved you, couldn't He have kept you from breaking your back?'" "What do you do when Satan tempts you?" "Ah, I just take him to Calvary, and I show him Christ, and I point out those wounds in His hands and feet and side, and say, 'Doesn't He love me?' and the fact is, he got such a scare there eighteen hundred years ago that he cannot stand it; he leaves me every time." That bedridden saint had not much trouble with doubts; he was too full of the grace of God. Honey-Dew I have sometimes been in a place where the very air seemed to be charged with the breath of God, like the moisture in the air. I remember one time as I went through the woods near Mount Hermon school I heard bees, and asked what it meant. "Oh," said one of the men, "they are after the _honey-dew_." "What is that?" I asked. He took a chestnut leaf and told me to put my tongue to it. I did so, and the taste was sweet as honey. Upon inquiry I found that all up and down the Connecticut valley what they call "honey-dew" had fallen, so that there must have been altogether hundreds of tons of honey-dew in this region. Where it comes from I don't know. Do you suppose that this earth would be worth living on if it were not for the dew and the rain? So a church that hasn't any of the dew of heaven, any of the rain that comes down in showers, will be as barren as the earth would be without the dew and rain. A Personal Matter "The life of Christianity," says Luther, "consists of personal pronouns. It is one thing to say, 'Christ is a Savior.' It is quite another to say, 'He is _my_ Savior.' The devil can say the first. Only the true Christian can say the second." They Knew It Let me tell you how I had my eyes opened about the theater question. I had an assistant superintendent of a Sabbath school, a very promising young man, who seemed to be very happy in the work. A star actor came to the city, and he went to see him. I knew nothing of it, but the next Sunday when he came into the Sunday-school all over the building the boys cried out: "Hypocrite! Hypocrite!" The perspiration started out of every pore of my body; I thought they were looking at me. I said to the little newsboys: "Who are you calling a hypocrite?" They mentioned the assistant's name. I asked the reason, and they said: "We saw him going into the theater."