In His Steps - New Abridged Editon Read online

  "I am convinced that, from a Christian point of view, more harm than good has been done by our Sunday morning paper. I do not believe that Jesus would be responsible for it if He were in my place today. It will occasion some trouble to arrange the details caused by this change with the advertisers and subscribers. That is for me to look after. The change itself is one that will take place. So far as I can see, the loss will fall on myself. Neither the reporters nor the pressmen need make any changes in their plans."

  He looked around the room and no one spoke. He was struck for the first time in his life with the fact that in all the years of his newspaper life he had never had the force of the paper together in this way. Would Jesus do that? That is, would He run a newspaper on some loving family plan, where editors, reporters, pressmen and all, meet to discuss and devise and plan for the making of a paper that should have in view...

  He caught himself drawing away from the facts of typographical unions and office rules and reporters' enterprise and all the cold, businesslike methods that make a great daily successful. But still, the vague picture that came up in the mailing room would not fade away when he had gone into his office, and the men had gone back to their places with wonder in their looks, and questions of all sorts on their tongues as they talked over the editor's remarkable actions.

  Clark came in and had a long, serious talk with his chief. He was thoroughly roused, and his protest almost reached the point of resigning his place. Edward Norman guarded himself carefully. Every minute of the interview was painful to him, but he felt more than ever the necessity of doing the Christ-like thing. Clark was a very valuable man. It would be difficult to fill his place. But he was not able to give any reasons for continuing the Sunday paper that answered the question, "What would Jesus do?" by letting Jesus print that edition.

  "It comes to this, then," said Clark frankly. "You will bankrupt the paper in thirty days. We might as well face that fact."

  "I don't think we shall. Will you stay by the News until it is bankrupt?" asked Norman.

  "Mr. Norman, I don't understand you. You are not the same man this week that I always knew before."

  "I don't know myself either, Clark. Something remarkable has caught me up and borne me on. But I was never more convinced of final success and power for the paper. You have not answered my question. Will you stay with me?"

  Clark hesitated a moment, and finally said, "Yes."

  Edward Norman shook hands with him and turned to his desk. Clark went back into his room stirred by a number of conflicting emotions. He had never before known such an exciting and mentally disturbing week, and he felt now as if he was connected with an enterprise that might at any moment collapse, and ruin him and all connected with it.

  Chapter Nine

  SUNDAY morning dawned on Raymond, and Henry Maxwell's church was again crowded. Before the service began, Edward Norman attracted great attention. He sat quietly in his usual place about three seats from the pulpit. The Sunday morning issue of the News containing the statement of its discontinuance had been expressed in such remarkable language that every reader was struck by it.

  The events connected with the News were not all. People were eagerly talking about strange things done during the week by Alexander Powers at the railroad workshops, and Milton Wright in his stores on the avenue. The service progressed upon a wave of excitement in the pews. Henry Maxwell faced it all with a calmness which indicated a strength and purpose more than usual.

  He did not preach as he had done two Sundays before. Tuesday of the past week he had stood by the grave of the dead stranger, and said the words, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," and still he was moved by the spirit of a deeper impulse than he could measure, as he thought of his people and yearned for the Christ-message when he should be in his pulpit again.

  Now that Sunday had come, and the people were there to hear. What would the Master tell them? He agonized over his preparation, and yet he knew he had not been able to fit his message into his ideal of Christ. Nevertheless no one in the First Church could remember ever hearing such a sermon before. There was in it rebuke for sin, especially hypocrisy; there was definite rebuke of the greed of wealth and the selfishness of fashion, two things that First Church never heard rebuked this way before; and there was a love of his people that gathered new force as the sermon went on. When it was finished, there were those who were saying in their hearts, "The Holy Spirit moved that sermon."

  Then Rachel Winslow rose to sing, this time after the sermon by Henry Maxwell's request. Rachel's singing did not provoke applause. Deeper feeling carried the people's hearts into a reverent silence and tenderness of thought. Rachel was beautiful, but her consciousness of her remarkable loveliness had always marred her singing with those who had the deepest spiritual feeling. It had also marred her rendering of certain kinds of music with herself. Today this was all gone. There was no lack of power in her voice, but there was an added element of humility and purity which the audience distinctly felt.

  Before service closed, Henry Maxwell asked those who had remained the week before to stay again for a few moments of consultation, and any others who were willing to make the pledge taken at that time. When he was at liberty, he went into the lecture room. To his astonishment it was almost filled. This time a large proportion of young people had come, but among them were a few businessmen, and officers of the church.

  As before, Maxwell asked them to pray with him. And as before, a distinct answer came from the presence of the Holy Spirit. There was no doubt in the minds of any present that what they purposed to do was so clearly in line with the divine will, that a blessing rested upon it in a very special manner.

  They remained some time to ask questions and consult together. There was a feeling of fellowship such as they had never known in their church membership. Mr. Norman's action with the Sunday News was well understood by them all, and he answered several questions.

  "What will be the probable result of your discontinuance of the Sunday paper?" asked Alexander Powers from the railroad, who sat next to him.

  "I don't know yet. I presume it will result in the falling off of subscriptions and advertisements. I anticipate that."

  "Do you have any doubts about your action? I mean, do you regret it, or fear it is not what Jesus would do?" asked the Rev. Henry Maxwell.

  "Not in the least. But I would like to ask, for my own satisfaction, if any of you here think Jesus would issue a Sunday morning paper?"

  No one spoke for a minute.

  Then Jasper Chase the author said, "We seem to think alike on that, but I have been puzzled several times during the week to know just what Jesus would do. It is not always an easy question to answer."

  Virginia Page sat by Rachel Winslow. Everyone who knew Virginia was wondering how she would succeed in keeping her promise. "I think perhaps I find it specially difficult to answer that question on account of my money. Our Lord never owned any property, and there is nothing in His example to guide me in the use of mine. I am studying and praying. I think I see clearly a part of what He would do, but not all. What would He do with a million dollars? That is my question. I confess I am not yet able to answer it to my satisfaction."

  "I could tell you what you could do with a part of it," said Rachel, turning her face toward Virginia.

  "That does not trouble me," replied Virginia with a slight smile. "What I am trying to discover is a principle that will enable me to come to the nearest possible to His action, as it ought to influence the entire course of my life so far as my wealth and its use are concerned."

  "That will take time," said the minister slowly.

  All the rest in the room were thinking hard of the same thing. Milton Wright told something of his experience. He was gradually working out a plan for his business relations with his employees in his stores, and it was opening up a new world to him and to them.

  When they finally adjourned after a silent prayer that marked with growing power the Div
ine Presence, they went away discussing earnestly their difficulties and seeking light from one another.

  Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page went out together. Edward Norman and Milton Wright became so interested in their mutual conference that they walked on past Norman's house and came back together. Jasper Chase and the president of the Endeavor Society stood talking in one corner of the room. Alexander Powers and Henry Maxwell remained, even after the others had gone.

  (Publisher's note: Francis E. Clark formed the first Christian Endeavor Society in 1881 in Portland, Maine, in order to help bring youth to accept Christ and work for Him.)

  "I want you to come down to the machine shops tomorrow and see my plan, and talk to the men," said Powers, the railroad superintendent. "Somehow I feel as if you could get nearer to them than anyone else just now."

  "I don't know about that, but I will come," replied Henry Maxwell, a little unhappily. How was he fitted to stand before two or three hundred working men and give them a message? Yet in the moment of his weakness, as he asked the question, he rebuked himself for it. What would Jesus do? That was an end to the discussion.

  He went down the next day and found Alexander Powers in his office. It lacked a few minutes of twelve and the superintendent said, "Come upstairs, and I'll show you what I've been trying to do."

  They went through the railroad machine shop, climbed a long flight of stairs and entered a very large, empty room. It had once been used by the company for a store room.

  "Since making that promise a week ago I have had a good many things to think of," said the superintendent, "and among them is this. The railroad company gives me the use of this room, and I am going to fit it up with tables and a coffee making machine in the corner where those steam pipes are. My plan is to provide a good place where the men can come up and eat their noon lunch, and give them, two or three times a week, the privilege of a fifteen minute talk on some subject that will be a real help to them in their lives."

  Maxwell looked surprised and asked if the men would come for any such purpose.

  "Yes, they'll come. After all, I know the men pretty well. They are among the most intelligent working men in the country today. But they are, as a whole, entirely removed from church influence. I asked, 'What would Jesus do?' and among other things it seemed to me He would begin to act in some way to add to the lives of these men more physical and spiritual comfort. It is a very little thing, this room and what it represents, but I want to work out this idea. I want you to speak to the men when they come up at noon. I have asked them to come up and see the place, and I'll tell them something about it."

  Henry Maxwell was too ashamed to say how uneasy he felt at being asked to speak a few words to a company of working men. How could he speak without notes, or to such a crowd? He actually felt afraid of facing those men. He shrank from the ordeal of confronting such a crowd, so different from the Sunday audiences he was familiar with.

  There were a dozen rough benches and tables in the room, and when the noon whistle sounded the men poured upstairs from the machine shops below. Seating themselves at the tables they began to eat their lunch. There were present about three hundred of them. They had read the superintendent's notice which he had posted up in various places, and came largely out of curiosity.

  They were favorably impressed. The room was large and airy, free from smoke and dust, and well warmed from the steam pipes. At about twenty minutes to one, Alexander Powers told the men what he had in mind. He spoke very simply, like one who understands thoroughly the character of his audience, and then introduced the Rev. Henry Maxwell of the First Church, his pastor, who had consented to speak a few minutes.

  Chapter Ten

  HENRY MAXWELL for the first time stood before a grimy-faced audience of working men. Like hundreds of other ministers, he had never spoken to any gatherings except those made up of people of his own class. This was a new world to him.

  He spoke on the subject of satisfaction with life; what caused it, what its real sources were. He had the good sense on this his first appearance not to recognize the men as a class distinct from himself. He did not use the term working man, and did not say a word to suggest any difference between their lives and his own.

  The men were pleased. A good many of them shook hands with him before going down to their work, and the minister, telling it all to his wife when he reached home, said that never in all his life had he known the delight he felt in having the handshake from a man of physical labor.

  The day marked an important one in his Christian experience. It was the beginning of a fellowship between him and the working world. It was the first plank laid down to help bridge the chasm between the church and labor in Raymond.

  Alexander Powers went back to his desk that afternoon pleased with his plan, and seeing much help in it for the men. He knew where he could get some better tables from an abandoned eating house at one of the railroad stations down the road, and he saw how the coffee arrangement could be made a very attractive feature. The men had responded even better than he anticipated, and the whole thing could not help being a great benefit to them.

  He took up the routine of his work with a glow of satisfaction. After all, he said to himself, he wanted to do as Jesus would.

  It was nearly four o'clock when he opened one of the company's long envelopes which he supposed contained orders for the purchasing of stores. He ran over the first page of typewritten matter before he saw that what he was reading was not intended for his office but for the superintendent of the freight department.

  He turned over a page mechanically, not meaning to read what was not addressed to him, but before he knew it he was in possession of evidence which conclusively proved that the company was engaged in a systematic violation of the Interstate Commerce Laws of the United States.

  It was as distinct and unequivocal a breaking of law as if a private citizen should enter a house and rob the inmates. The discrimination shown in rebates was in total contempt of all the statutes. Under the laws of the state it was also a distinct violation of certain provisions recently passed by the legislature to prevent railroad trusts. There was no question that he had in his hands evidence sufficient to convict the company of willful violation of the law of the commission, and the law of the state also.

  He dropped the papers on his desk as if they were poison, and instantly the question flashed across his mind, "What would Jesus do?" He tried to shut the question out. He tried to reason with himself by saying it was none of his business. He had known in a more or less definite way, as did nearly all the officers of the company, that this had been going on right along on nearly all the railroads.

  He was not in a position, owing to his place in the workshops, to prove anything direct, and he had regarded it as a matter which did not concern him at all. The papers now before him revealed the entire affair. They had through some carelessness been addressed to him. Was it now his business? If he saw a man entering his neighbor's house to steal, would it not be his duty to inform the officers of the law? Was a railroad company such a different thing? Was it under a different rule of conduct, so that it could rob the public and defy the law and be undisturbed because it was such a great organization? What would Jesus do?

  Then there was his family, of course. If he took any steps to inform the commission, it would mean the loss of his position. His wife and daughter had always enjoyed luxury and a good place in society. If he came out against this lawlessness as a witness, it would drag him into the courts. His motives would be misunderstood, and the whole thing would end in his disgrace and the loss of his position. Surely it was none of his business.

  He could easily get the papers back to the freight department and no one be the wiser. Let the iniquity go on. Let the law be defied. What was it to him? He would work out his plans for bettering the condition just before him. What more could a man do in this railroad business when there was so much going on anyway that made it impossible to live by the Christian standard? Bu
t what would Jesus do if He knew the facts? That was the question that confronted Alexander Powers, as the day wore into evening.

  The lights in the office had been turned on. The whirr of the great engine and the clash of the planers in the big machine shop continued until six o'clock. Then the whistle blew, the engine slowed up, the men dropped their tools and ran for the block-house.

  Powers said to his clerks, "I'm not going just yet. I have something extra tonight."

  The engineer and his assistants had work for half an hour but they went out by another door. At seven o'clock Alexander Powers was kneeling, his face was buried in his hands as he bowed his head upon the papers on his desk.

  Chapter Eleven

  WHEN RACHEL WINSLOW and Virginia Page separated after the meeting at the First Church on Sunday, they agreed to continue their conversation the next day. Virginia asked Rachel to come and lunch with her at noon, and Rachel accordingly rang the doorbell at the Page mansion about half-past eleven. Virginia herself met her, and the two were soon talking earnestly.

  "The fact is," Rachel was saying, "I cannot reconcile it with my judgment of what Christ would do. I cannot tell another person what to do, but I feel that I ought not to accept this offer I have received."

  "What will you do then?" asked Virginia, with great interest.

  "I don't know yet, but I have decided to refuse it."

  Rachel picked up a letter that had been lying in her lap and ran over its contents again. It was a letter from the manager of a comic opera offering her a place with a large traveling company of the season. The salary was a very large figure, and the prospect held out by the manager was flattering. He had heard Rachel sing that Sunday morning when the stranger interrupted the service. He had been much impressed. There was money in that voice and it ought to be used in comic opera, so said the letter, and the manager wanted a reply as soon as possible.

  "There's no great virtue in saying no to this offer, when I already have one from the concert company," Rachel went on thoughtfully. "To tell the truth, Virginia, I'm completely convinced that Jesus would never use any talent like a good voice just to make money. But now, take the concert offer. Here is a reputable company, to travel with an impersonator and a violinist and a male quartet, all people of good reputation. I'm asked to go as one of the company and sing leading soprano. The salary -- I mentioned it, didn't I? -- is guaranteed to be $200 a month for the season. But I don't feel satisfied that Jesus would go. What do you think?"