From a Sermon by Billy Sunday

I remember when I was in the Y.M.C.A. in Chicago I was going down Madison Street and had just crossed Dearborn Street when I saw a newsboy with a young sparrow in his hand. I said: “Let that little bird go.”

He said, “Aw, g’wan with you, you big mutt.”

I said, “I’ll give you a penny for it,” and he answered, “Not on your tintype.”

“I’ll give you a nickel for it,” and he answered, “Boss, I’m from Missouri; come across with the dough.”

I offered it to him, but he said, “Give it to that guy there,” and I gave it to the boy he indicated and took the sparrow.

I held it for a moment and then it fluttered and struggled and finally reached the window ledge in a second story across the street. And other birds fluttered around over my head and seemed to say in bird language, “Thank you, Bill.”

The kid looked at me in wonder and said: “Say, boss, why didn’t you chuck that nickel in the sewer?”

I told him that he was just like that bird. He was in the grip of the devil, and the devil was too strong for him just as he was too strong for the sparrow, and just as I could do with the sparrow what I wanted to, after I had paid for it, because it was mine. God paid a price for him far greater than I had for the sparrow, for he had paid it with the blood of his Son, and he wanted to set him free.