The millionaire, who dies to-day grasping his millions as his
own, is hissed while he lives, openly cursed while he lies cold in
death, and forgotten in contempt.
"Outside the history of the common people there is nothing worth
recording. They are mankind. As a half-million miles make no
difference in the vast distance to the sun in figuring an eclipse,
so the classes may be disregarded.
"Jesus Christ was the carpenter's son. His home was humble, His
birth lowly. He was born poor, lived and died poor. The foxes had
holes, the birds of the air nests, but He had not where to lay His
head. Our robes and altar cloths, our tin and tinsel, were not His.
"When John Wesley raised his voice for the people the Church of
England had the opportunity to become the Church of the Anglo-Saxon
race, that is now conquering the world. They called him a liar,
a hypocrite, a Jesuit, a devil, cast him out, and the opportunity
passed forever.
"I see a man before me who hates this big crowd and yet expects to
go to heaven. Heaven is the home of millions--'a great multitude
which no man could number,' says the seer. Hell is the home of
swell society."
The words leaped from Gordon's lips a rushing torrent and swept the
crowd.
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