His spiritual son, Timothy, brings him tidings from the infant church in Thessalonica, that awakens his solicitude.

He yearns to go and see them, but he cannot; so he determines to write to them; and one day he lays aside his tent needle, seizes his pen, and, when that pen touches the papyrus sheet the New Testament begins.

The Apostle's great, warm heart kindles and blazes as he goes on, and at length bursts out in this impassioned utterance: "Ye are my glory and joy!" Paul, I thank thee for a thousand things, but for nothing do I thank thee more than for that golden sentence.

In these thrilling words, the greatest of Christian pastors, rising above the poverty, homelessness, and scorn that surrounded him, reaches forth his hand and grasps his royal diadem.

No man shall rob the aged hero of his crown.