If I have the language ever so perfectly and speak like a native and have not His love, I am nothing.
If I have diplomas and degrees and know all the up-to-date methods and have not His touch of understanding, I am nothing.
If I am able to argue successfully against their religions and yet have not His wooing note, I am nothing.
If I have all faith and great ideals and magnificent plans and have not His love that sweats and bleeds and prays and pleads, I am nothing.
If I give my clothes and my money to them and have not His love for them, I am nothing.
If I surrender all prospects, leave home and friends, make the sacrifice of the missionary career, and turn sour and selfish because of the daily annoyances and slights of missionary life, and though I give my body to be consumed with heat and fevers and have not love that yields its rights, its leisure, its pet plans, I am nothing.
If I can heal all manner of sickness and disease but wound hearts and hurt feelings for want of His love that is kind, I am nothing.
If I can write articles or publish books that win applause but fail to transcribe the Word of the Cross in the language of His love I am nothing.
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