On the Street Corner

On the Street Corner By Nephi Jensen

As the last strain of "Just as I am" floated away upon the evening air, I left the corner where the Salvation Army was holding their street meeting near the heart of Toronto, Canada, and walked up Yonge street to its intersection with Shutter, where two street evangelists were earnestly contending for the attention of the passing crowds, at opposite sides of the street. One of these ministers was a middle-aged, stocky-built man with unlimited lung power. He was earnestly and vehemently iterating and reiterating the soft sweet words, "By grace ye are saved." He ran all kinds of changes on this favorite text. But he had no well denned message that appealed to his hearers. It was plainly manifest that he was trying to make up in rhet- oric what he lacked in truth. The thoughtless young people, out for a Saturday night stroll, would stop for a few sentences and then pass to the picture show near by. The speaker on the other side of the street was a very young man just budding out of his teens into manhood. He had fine, clean features, clear, bright eyes, and a beaming countenance which seemed to say, "I am your friend, I want to help you." He, too, was fervent and earnest but not bois- terous. All through his address he maintained that dignified reserve which is characteristic of those who are deeply moved. His spirit and manner were different from anything you may witness anywhere in the world except when you hear a "Mor- mon" elder preach. He seemed to be possessed of two dis- tinct natures. He was meek and gentle, and at the same time bold and fearless. What was the peculiar charm of this young man's speaking? In the assemblies of the Saints we call it, "The spirit of truth." He stood erect and looked his hearers square in the eye. As he spoke, there was a slight tremor on his lips. But it was not a manifestation of fear. It was a deeper and truer emotion. Itwas the genuine love of truth. His manner of speaking was as artless as that of a boy. He did not attempt to play upon words nor use rhetorical tricks, to tickle the shallow fancy. He spoke with the simple, earnest utterance of one who is deeply stirred by his message. And the people, both young and old, stopped and listened. What cap-

ON THE STREET CORNER 1039

tured these hearers? Not learning, not oratory. It was truth spoken with the power of conviction. And he preached a different gospel from that of the man across the street. He pictured no delightful road to heaven, no "flowery beds of ease." He talked of the "steep and craggy path" that heroic men climb to the glory of God. His was the of "one crying in the wilderness," "Repent, for the King- voice dom of Heaven is at hand." Nor did the crowds turn from hearing this sterner gospel to the fair promises of the man over the way. of righteousness, youthful denouncer ot They hung on the fervent words of the there a heroic element in all true men, sin. For, after all, is that they and they are willing to be told of "the terror of life, may "arm themselves to meet it." The young elder was followed by his older companion who denunciation was more deliberate but equally earnest in his of all unrighteousness. to all At the conclusion of the meeting, tracts were ottered who wished them. A returned Canadian soldier, a member ot

the Church, who had been through the fire of Vimy Kidge,

Lens, Paschendale, Amiens, Arras, Cambrai, and who had sut- the distribution fered slight wounds twice, assisted actively in watched him going about through the of the literature. As I to those in dark- throng, eager to give the printed word of truth man, you are displaying ness, I could not but think, "Young faced the cannon 8 greater courage now than you did when you mouth." Toronto, Canada

Two Neighbors' Sons Two neighbors' sons returned today, One came from over the sea; The other came from I know not where. A draft evader was he. Both were clasped in a mother's arms; But, beyond, the evader saw Not a host of admiring friends, But the cold, stern arm of the law.

One was crippled, perhaps for life, In the trenches "over there," And for bravery in action He was given the Croix de Guerre. The other bore no visible hurt, But a crippled soul has he, And the scar will scarcely be effaced Throughout eternity. Edna May Irvine