Some make it read like this:  He comes to His own, and they who are His own open the door a crack, maybe a fairly respectably wide crack.  We all like the word Saviour.  Yes, we cling tenaciously to that.  Selfishly, would you say?  We want to be saved from a certain place we think of as down, that we’ve been taught about, and don’t want to go to—­if it’s there; the way men talk about it to-day.

And we want to be saved into another certain place we think of as up, and where we surely want to go after we get through down on the earth, and must go away somewhere else; with that “after” and “must” carefully underscored.  And we want to be saved from all the inconveniences possible along the way, and to secure all the advantages and help available:  yes, yes, open the door a crack.

But be careful about the width of the opened crack.  Let it be just the proper conventionalized width.  Let there be no extremeism about the wideness of that opening.  Things must be proper.  For what would the other crack-open-door-owners think?

And then, too, yet more serious, this Jesus has a way, a most inconsiderate way of coming in as far as you let Him, and of taking things into His own hands.  Certain people use that word “inconsiderate”—­to themselves, in secret.  Jesus changes some things when He is allowed all the way in.  He might change your personal habits, your home arrangements, some of your social customs and your business plans.

Of course He changes only what needs changing, as He sees it.  But—­then—­you—­well, some things can be carried too far—­to suit you.  This Jesus has the all habit.  He contracted it when He was down on the earth.  Our needs grew the habit.  He gave all.  And He has a way of coming in all the way, and of reaching in His pierced hand and taking all.

He might even put His hand in on that most sacred thing, that holiest of all, that you guard most jealously—­that box.  It has heavy hinges, and double padlocks, and the keys are held hard under the thumb of your will.  Of course there may really not be much in it; and again there may be very much.  But much or little, it is securely kept under that thick broad thumb of yours.

Oh! you give; of course; yes, yes, we’re all good proper Christian folk here.  We give a tenth, and even much more.  We support an aggressive missionary propaganda.  That’s the thing, you know, in our day, for good church people.  We give to all the good things.  Ye-es, no doubt.  And we are very careful, too, that that inconsiderate Hand shall not disturb the greater bulk that remains between hinge and lock.  That’s yours.  Of course you are His, redeemed, saved by His blood.

Well, well, how these pronouns, “His,” “ours,” do get mixed up!  How lovely some things are to sing about, in church, and special services, at Keswick and Northfield.  But through it all we hold hard to that key, we don’t let go—­even to Him, though it is He who entrusts all to our temporary keeping.  We do guard the width of that opening crack, do we not?