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 hand on the head of the little fellow and said to him: 'Jim, I am for you, my boy. I believe in you thoroughly, and I want you to know that I love you, my boy.' And when I said that last word, the little pinched face looked up into my face almost in a lightning flash, and he said: 'Mr. Truett, did you say you loved me? Did you say that?' I said, 'I said that, Jim.' And then with a great sob he said: 'I did not know anybody loved me but mother and the two little girls. Mr. Truett, if you love me, I am going to be a man yet, by the help of God.' And when a few Friday nights afterwards I was leading the boys in their chapel meeting, as was the custom, I heard the boy's crutches over in the corner. There Jim sat, in a chair away from the other boys to protect his leg. And a little later he got up, sobbing and laughing at the same time, and said, 'Mr. Truett, I have found the Saviour, and that time you told me you loved me started me towards Him.'" And then our friend added, "Brothers, working men in the shops and everywhere are dying for love. Your grammar may be broken, your plans may be imperfect, your machinery may be crude, your organization may be rough; but if you love men and pour your hearts out to them honestly and directly, there will be a response that will fill your hearts with joy and heaven with praises."

And the need and functions of hope should be