A farmer repeatedly invited a friend into his apple orchard to taste the fruit and make some fresh cider. But, just as often, the friend said, “No, I would rather not.”

Finally, the farmer said, “I guess you are prejudiced against my apples.”

“Well, to tell the truth,” his friend said, “I have tasted a few of them and they are very sour.”

The farmer then asked which apples his friend had eaten. “Why, those apples which fell along the road over your fence,” he replied.

“Ah, yes,” said the farmer, “they are sour. I planted them to fool the boys who live around here. But, if you will come beyond the gate into the middle of my orchard, you will find a different taste.”

On the edges of Christianity are some very sour apples—conviction, self-denial, and purity of life—which keep off hypocrites and mere professors. But in the middle of the orchard are delicious fruits, sweet and desirable. The nearer to God, the sweeter the joy.