I have often been reminded of the wild duck that came down on migration into a barnyard and liked it so well that he stayed there. In the fall his erstwhile companions passed overhead and his first impulse was to rise and join them, but he had fed too well and could rise no higher than the eaves of the barn. The day came when his old fellow travelers could pass overhead without his even hearing their call. I have seen men and women who once mounted up with wings like eagles but are now content to live in the barnyard of this world, Sometimes, in a good old-fashioned meeting under powerful preaching, they may have a momentary impulse to sing the song of saints on higher ground.
Where doubts arise and fears dismay.
But they have fed too well down here and the day comes when they no longer respond to the call from on high. It is a tragic thing to settle in the barnyard of this world.