Revelation 22:4

A May-Day Sermon

His name shall be on their foreheads. Revelation 22:4.

The first of May May-day! I wonder if you boys and girls like the sound of that word “May-day” as well as some of us older people do.

We like it because the May-days of long ago seem very beautiful to us now. I remember one specially, as it was spent by a quaint little girl of seven years old. She had rather a dull home. Her father was a very strict man, and her mother never thought of playing with her little boy and girl. But Louie woke very, very happy on May-day morning. “Louie, Lou ie!” she heard her mother calling, “it is six o'clock; rise and wash your face with the May dew.” Louie jumped out of bed very willingly indeed, for she remembered how could she forget it? that she had been chosen to be the May Queen. Her crown of sweet spring flowers was ready. It lay covered up on the top of a chest of drawers in her room. She was a clever little girl, and had learnt quite a number of pieces of poetry. You will hardly believe it, but as she dressed herself she kept reciting in a childish voice:

You have waked and called me early, called me early, mother dear;

This is the, most lovely day of all the glad New-year;

Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

As soon as she was dressed she trotted out to the garden, and, gathering the dew from the grass, wiped her face all over with it. “Heckie!” she asked softly, for her wee brother had followed her, “is my face beautiful?” “Yes, Louie; yes, it's like it's like one of the little angels in father's big Bible.”

Later, dressed in a simple white dress, and wearing a crown of spring flowers, Louie walked in front of a long procession of school children. Her king was a little fellow whose first name was “Phelim,” and her maids were girls very much bigger than herself. They kept saying, “Walk faster, walk faster”; but Louie was too happy to mind; for although “Phelim” did not speak to her, he wore a crown like a real king's crown, and it was made of golden lilies. The walk ended in marching round part of a fine old garden, curtseying' as they passed an old lady the gentle duchess who owned the place and then viewing a collection of work that was ready to be sent to a missionary somewhere.

“Mother, I was very, very happy,” Louie said afterwards (little girls did not use the word “ awfully ” then); “I won't dirty my dresses any more.”

The few of those children who are alive now are elderly men and women. Just about a year ago I had a letter from the little May Queen. “I can almost smell the flowers,” she wrote “the flowers that formed my crown on that May morning, long ago.”

Boys and girls, the May dew and the spring flowers are still here. In Edinburgh, as early as six o'clock on the first of May, one can see numbers of young people hiking up “Arthur ' s Seat” (peak of hills) to wash their faces with dew from its grassy slopes or its summit.

The idea that the fresh dew of a May morning can make our faces beautiful is an old-fashioned one. But some of us like it. It makes us think backward. Better still, our thoughts go forward too away to the beauty that is spoken of in the Bible, the beauty that comes from being in God's presence. The Bible is full of stories about beautiful people. They had the beauty that comes from doing kind actions, from being true, from having noble thoughts.

A little girl was one day reading the Bible, and she came upon some verses that spoke of Heaven. “Grandpa,” she said, “my Bible says that those who are in heaven shall never hunger or thirst. I understand that; but it says that ‘ His name shall be on their foreheads! What does that mean, grandpa? Who will write the name of Jesus on their foreheads?”

“Why, they will write it themselves, of course, girlie.”

“Write it themselves, grandpa! But how?”

“Why, Margery, we are every day writing the names of our masters on our foreheads. Some people make a sad mistake and serve sin, and sin stamps its seal upon their faces. Some serve care, and care brands their foreheads with deep wrinkles. But those who love the Lord Jesus, Margery, and walk with Him, and do His will, write the name of their dear Master on their forehead. They cannot help it.”

Margery looked up wonderingly into her grandfather's face. She glanced at the grey hair that, like a crown of glory, circled the old man's brow. She noticed more than that; she looked into his kind eyes. She flung her arms round the old man's neck, and cried, “I think I understand now, grandpa.”

That is a little American story I read the other day. And let me tell you something else that is very interesting. An eminent London photographer wrote an article for a educated paper. In the course of it he said that “one of the best evidences for religion is the type of face that the religious life produces.” “His name shall he on their foreheads

Getting into God's presence is like bathing your face with dew. It will give you such a feeling of happiness that you will never want to do a mean action. You will always want to be true, and you will be constantly trying to make everybody round you as happy as you are yourself.