Quiet Talks on Power
Gordon S.D.
English
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Below is a summary of Quiet Talks on Power
QUIET TALKS
ON _POWER_
BY
S. D. GORDON
[Illustration]
NEW AND REVISED EDITION
CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
Chicago: 63 Washington Street
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Toronto: 27 Richmond Street, W
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 30 St. Mary Street
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHOKED CHANNELS 9
THE OLIVET MESSAGE 33
THE CHANNEL OF POWER 61
THE PRICE OF POWER 87
THE PERSONALITY OF POWER 117
MAKING AND BREAKING CONNECTIONS 147
THE FLOOD-TIDE OF POWER 173
FRESH SUPPLIES OF POWER 199
CHOKED CHANNELS.
An Odd Distinction.
A few years ago I was making a brief tour among the colleges of
Missouri. I remember one morning in a certain college village going over
from the hotel to take breakfast with some of the boys, and coming back
with one of the fellows whom I had just met. As we walked along,
chatting away, I asked him quietly, "Are you a christian, sir?" He
turned quickly and looked at me with an odd, surprised expression in his
eye and then turning his face away said: "Well, I'm a member of church,
but--I don't believe I'm very much of a christian." Then I looked at him
and he frankly volunteered a little information. Not very much. He did
not need to say much. You can see a large field through a chink in the
fence. And I saw enough to let me know that he was right in the
criticism he had made upon himself. We talked a bit and parted. But his
remark set me to thinking.
A week later, in another town, speaking one morning to the students of a
young ladies' seminary, I said afterwards to one of the teachers as we
were talking: "I suppose your young women here are all christians." That
same quizzical look came into her eye as she said: "I think they are
all members of church, but I do not think they are all christians with
real power in their lives." There was that same odd distinction.
A few weeks later, in Kansas City visiting the medical and dental
schools, I recall distinctly standing one morning in a disordered
room--shavings on the floor, desks disarranged--the institution just
moving into new quarters, and not yet settled. I was discussing with a
member of the faculty, the dean I think, about how many the room would
hold, how soon it would be ready, and so on--just a business talk,
nothing more--when he turned to me rather abruptly, looking me full in
the face, and said with quiet deliberation: "I'm a member of church; I
_think_ I am a deacon in our church"--running his hand through his hair
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