I said a while ago in these talks that it would be <i>an easy thing</i> for the whole Church, or even half of the Church, to take Jesus fully out to all the world. But may I tell you now plainly that it won't be an easy thing? Somebody will have to sacrifice if the thing's to be done. And that somebody will be you, if you go along where the Master calls. If you <i>count</i> on the Church doing it, or on anybody else doing it, you may be sure of one thing: some part of what needs doing won't be done. But if you and I will reckon that this thing belongs to us, as if there were nobody else to do it, and <i>push on;</i>--well, there'll be sacrifice of the real sort and, too, there'll be all of sacrifice's peculiar winsomeness going out to draw men. And there will be men changed where you live, and out where you will never go personally. And there will be a great joy in your heart, but with the greater joy breaking out in the Morning, when the King comes to His own. "I hear the sob of the parted, The wail of the broken-hearted, The sigh for the loved departed, In the surging roar of the town. And it's, oh, for the joy of the Morning! The light and song of the Morning! There'll be joy in the Christmas Morning When the King comes to His own! "Now let our hearts be true, brothers, To suffer and to do, brothers; There'll be a song for you, brothers, When the battle's fought and won. It won't seem long in the Morning, In the light and song of the Morning There'll be joy in the Christmas Morning When the King comes to His own! "Arise, and be of good cheer, brothers; The day will soon be here, brothers; The victory is near, brothers; And the sound of the glad 'Well done!' There'll be no sad heart in the Morning No tear will start in the Morning; There'll be joy in the Christmas Morning When the King comes to His own! "We're in for the winning side, brothers, Bound to the Lord who died, brothers, We shall see Him glorified, brothers, And the Lamb shall wear the crown. What of the cold world's scorning? There'll be joy enough in the Morning There'll be joy in the Christmas Morning, When the King comes to His own!" Years ago a steamer out on Lake Erie caught fire, and headed at once for the nearest land. All was wild confusion, as men and women struggled for means of escape. In the crowd was a returning California gold-miner. He fastened the belt containing his gold securely about his waist and was preparing to try to swim ashore. Just then a little sweet-faced girl in the crowd touched his hand, and looked up beseechingly into his face, and said, "Won't you please save me? I have no papa here to save me. Won't you, please?"