And so I thought I would just ask the friends here to-day very frankly, "What kind of Christians are you?" I do not say what kind you are, for I am a stranger, and do not know, and would only think the best things of you. But I ask you frankly, honestly now, as I ask myself anew, what kind are you? Do you know? Because it makes such a difference. The Master's plan--and what a genius of a plan it is--is this, that the world should be won, not by the preachers--though we must have these men of God for teaching and leadership--but by everyone who knows the story of Jesus _telling someone_, and telling not only with his lips earnestly and tactfully, but even more, _telling with his life_. That is the Master's plan of campaign for this world. And it makes a great difference to Him and to the world outside whether you and I are _living_ the story of His love and power among men or not. Do you _know_ what kind of a christian you are? There are at least three others that do. First of all there is Satan. He knows. Many of our church officers are skilled in gathering and compiling statistics, but they cannot hold a tallow-dip to Satan in this matter of exact information. He is the ablest of all statisticians, second only to one other. He keeps careful record of every one of us, and knows just how far we are interfering with his plans. He knows that some of us--good, respectable people, as common reckoning goes--neither help God nor hinder Satan. Does that sound rather hard? But is it not true? He has no objection to such people being counted in as christians. Indeed, he rather prefers to have it so. Their presence inside the church circle helps him mightily. _He_ knows what kind of a christian you are. Do _you_ know? Then there is the great outer circle of non-christian people--_they know_. Many of them are poorly informed regarding the christian life; hungry for something they have not, and know not just what it is; with high ideals, though vague, of what a christian life should be. And they look eagerly to us for what they have thought we had, and are so often keenly disappointed that our ideals, our life, is so much like others who profess nothing. And when here and there they meet one whose acts are dominated by a pure, high spirit, whose faces reflect a sweet radiance amid all circumstances, and whose lives send out a rare fragrance of gladness and kindliness and controlling peace, they are quick to recognize that, to them, intangible something that makes such people different. The world--tired, hungry, keen and critical for mere sham, appreciative of the real thing--the world knows what kind of christians we are. Do _we_ know?