AT a Sunday-school gathering the other day, simple prizes were offered to the children for running races. Amongst the runners in one race was a little girl, who had a bun in one hand and a mug in the other.
“Child,” we cried, “you cannot run like that.”
But she did not wish to risk her present possessions for the prospect of a future prize, so she clung to her treasures, yet would not forego the hope of gaining the reward. She entered the race, with bun and mug: what her fate was it is needless to relate.
That little child in the race is too much like many a believer, to be altogether forgotten by us. How many resemble her! Both hands full of the treasures of this life! and hence, though entered for the race, too encumbered to run, only creeping along to glory.
The thought of the value of the prize lends wings to the sinner. Only let the christian get a sight of Christ in heaven, and he will say, “That I may win Christ.” Certainly, every believer is won by Christ for the glory, but when we see Christ as our prize, whom we have to win, it makes the world as a racecourse to us, ground to be got over as quickly as possible.