Excerpt from Sermons

"And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger." - St. Luke xvii. 17, 18.

There, in front of the Lord, with his face on the ground, lies, lost in the glory of thanksgiving, the solitary stranger who had been healed of his disease. We are told how the praises came pouring from his lips, his eyes are brimming with tears, his hands are holding the feet of his Deliverer, his whole soul is going out in adoration. Just think of it! It is all really true! That long woe of his has slipped from off him, it has been rolled away, as a stone that has been sunk into the deep sea, never to be seen again. That woe of leprosy had been his daily companion, day and night it had clothed him with a visible curse, it had marked him out from his fellows so that all might know. There was no escape, no pause, no secrecy, no relief: it rose with him each morning, it dogged him through the day, it lay down with him at night. The ring round him that set him apart might never be broken, he could not cross over to his friends, nor they to him. And the curse was no arbitrary mark, it was imbedded in his flesh, it ate its way into his bones.

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