Mothers Sermon Illustrations

Mothers Sermon Illustrations

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Her "Concern" for Mother

A young girl went out in the suburbs to spend the day with friends. She looked so sweet and cool in her dainty dimity—it was an oppressively warm day—that her friends were almost inclined to be envious. "Mamma is not at all well lately. No, thank you; I don't need a fan; I am quite comfortable. I feel quite worried about Mamma." "Why didn't you bring her with you? This country air would do her a world of good." "She is ironing today. Mamma has such big ironings, especially in the summer. Then, as you know, I am going to the seashore soon, and Mamma is busy sewing for me. I have several dresses to be made, besides numerous other frills and furbelows." While she proceeded enthusiastically o describe the fashions, her friends were busy with their thoughts. And there is no need to point a moral to this true little tale.—The Illustrator.

Apples and Boys

Bishop William Alfred Quayle used to tell of a circuit rider who brought home four apples, a rare fruit on the almost orchardless frontier. When the preacher's wife had given one apple to each of her three boys, she placed the one meant for her on the mantle. After the boys had eaten their apples their mother saw them observing hers, whereupon she cut it into three pieces for them. The boys returned to the cabin porch and as they munched the fruit they discussed how strange it was that their mother did not care for apples. But when one of the sons was an old man he explained to the bishop that he had come to understand that it was not because his mother did not like apples, but that she liked little boys better.—Gospel Herald.

John Wanamaker's Mother

When he was advancing in years, and when he had time from the cares of the great store that he had built, and from his many public duties, John Wanamaker wrote of his mother: "My first love was my mother, and my first home was on her breast. My first bed was upon her bosom. Leaning my arms upon her knees, I learned my first prayers. A bright lamp she lit in my soul, that never dies down nor goes out, though the winds and waves of fourscore years have swept over me. Sitting in my mother's old arm­chair which she loved because her first­born son gave it to her forty years ago, I am writing this in the evening twilight. With the darkness falling I seem to lose myself in a flood of memories, and to feel that the arms of the chair have loosed themselves to become my very own mother's arms around me again, drawing me to her bosom, the happiest place on earth, just as she used to do in the days and nights long gone by. I feel the touch of her little hand on my brow, and I hear her voice as she smooth my hair and calls me her boy, her very own boy."—The Presbyterian.

Mother Love

During a forest fire on one of the government forest reserves a ranger came upon a bear cub with severely burnt feet and body. The youngster was whimpering painfully, and so the forester put it into his automobile and made it fast with a rope. When he started on his way, however, he discovered that the mother bear had appeared and was following in hot pursuit! Moreover, since the road ran uphill, she was gaining!

The ranger decided to throw the cub overboard, but his attempts to untie the knots were futile. He glanced back; the mother bear was close behind. And just then with a mighty effort she threw herself upon the back of the car, while the forester dived over the side. He regained his feet in time to see the automobile continuing its journey with a happy family reunited. Later he found it at the side of the road. Everything was intact except the side of the seat to which the cub had been tied; the old bear had torn it out to release her offspring.

There is nothing human so irresistible or so unselfish as mother love.—New Century Leader.

Fervent Prayer

Once, in North Africa, there was a mother named Monica, who had prayed through the years for her wayward son. Ere he left for Italy she prayed through the night that he might not go, but with the light of morning the ship sailed. Later on the son wrote: "That night I stole away and she was left behind in weeping and prayer. And what, O Lord, was she with so many tears asking of Thee but that Thou wouldst not suffer me to sail? But Thou, in the depth of Thy counsels, knowing the main point of her desire, regardest not what she then asked, that Thou mightest accomplish the greater thing for which she was ever imploring Thee." Yet, though long delayed, the mother's prayers were answered. And her boy became Saint Augustine.—Herbert Lockyer, in The Presbyterian.

Taught to Die

A young girl lay upon her bed with what proved to be a fatal sickness. She was the only child, the idol of her parents, her every whim had been gratified. The doctor was called and after examining his young patient he whispered into the mother's ear. The message was heard by the sick girl. Calling her mother she said, "Mother, you have taught me how to dance, how to dress well, how to comport myself in the world, but one thing you have failed to teach me and that is how to die."Watchman Examiner.

The Greatest Preacher

Dr. G. Campbell Morgan has four sons and they are all preachers. Someone once came into the drawing-room when all the family was there. They thought they would see what Howard, one of the sons, was made of and they asked him this question: "Howard, who is the greatest preacher in your family?" Howard had a great admiration for his father, and he looked straight across at him, and then, without a moment's hesitation, he answered, "Mother."—War Cry.

A Daughter's Denial

An elderly woman was speaking with pride and gratitude of her young married daughter and said to a friend, "I've been such a burden to her." Quickly the friend replied: "Mothers are never that." The words came instantly and spontaneously, without any affectation or effort to "say something," for this friend had had an invalid mother for many years, and had lavished her life in caring for her, with true love and with gratitude that she had this privilege.The Sunday Circle.

No one knows of the work it makes
To keep the home together;
Nobody knows the steps it takes,
Nobody knows but Mother.
Nobody knows the lessons taught
Of loving one another;
Nobody knows the patience sought,
Nobody knows but Mother.—Selected.

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