Sympathy – Dwight Lyman Moody

I want to tell you how, a few years ago, I got up sympathy with a family in Chicago, where I was living. It is very unhealthy in the summer, and I attended the funerals of a good many children. I got hardened to it, like a doctor, and could go to them without sympathy. One of my little scholars was drowned, and word was sent by the mother that she wanted to see me. I went. The dripping body was there on the table. The husband was a drunkard, and was then in the corner drunk. The mother said she had no money to buy a shroud or coffin, and wanted to know if I could not bury Adeline. I consented. I had my little girl with me then. She was about four years old. When we got outside she asked: “Suppose we were poor, pa, and I had to go down to the river after sticks, and should fall in and get drowned, and you had no money to bury me, would you be sorry, papa?” and then she looked up into my eyes with an expression I had never before seen, and asked: “Did you feel bad for that mother?” I clasped her to my heart and kissed her, and my sympathy was aroused. My friends, if you want to get in sympathy with people, consider how you would feel in their place. Let us, working for the Master, have compassion on the unfortunate, and sympathy for those who need our sympathy.

(D. L. Moody.)