“The Least of These My Brethren”
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the imperiled, to win the hearts of men to Christ. Not one is neglected
or passed by. God is no respecter of persons, and He has an equal care
for all the souls He has created.
As you open your door to Christ’s needy and suffering ones, you are
welcoming unseen angels. You invite the companionship of heavenly
beings. They bring a sacred atmosphere of joy and peace. They come
with praises upon their lips, and an answering strain is heard in heaven.
Every deed of mercy makes music there. The Father from His throne
numbers the unselfish workers among His most precious treasures.
Those on the left hand of Christ, those who had neglected Him in
the person of the poor and the suffering, were unconscious of their
guilt. Satan had blinded them; they had not perceived what they owed
to their brethren. They had been self-absorbed, and cared not for
others’ needs.
To the rich, God has given wealth that they may relieve and comfort
His suffering children; but too often they are indifferent to the wants of
others. They feel themselves superior to their poor brethren. They do
not put themselves in the poor man’s place. They do not understand the
temptations and struggles of the poor, and mercy dies out of their hearts.
In costly dwellings and splendid churches, the rich shut themselves
away from the poor; the means that God has given to bless the needy
is spent in pampering pride and selfishness. The poor are robbed daily
of the education they should have concerning the tender mercies of
God; for He has made ample provision that they should be comforted
with the necessities of life. They are compelled to feel the poverty that
narrows life, and are often tempted to become envious, jealous, and
full of evil surmisings. Those who themselves have not endured the
pressure of want too often treat the poor in a contemptuous way, and
make them feel that they are looked upon as paupers.
But Christ beholds it all, and He says, It was I who was hungry
and thirsty. It was I who was a stranger. It was I who was sick. It was I
who was in prison. While you were feasting at your bountifully spread
table, I was famishing in the hovel or the empty street. While you
were at ease in your luxurious home, I had not where to lay My head.
While you crowded your wardrobe with rich apparel, I was destitute.
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While you pursued your pleasures, I languished in prison.
When you doled out the pittance of bread to the starving poor,
when you gave those flimsy garments to shield them from the biting