Exhorting preachers to ‘never let men feel that you would gospel would be satisfied with mere decency’, Phillips Brooks makes the point that when addressing the outworking of sin the preacher should never leave their hearer with the sense that all we desire is modified behaviour.
While challenging sinful behaviour, our true goal is to point each person to that which lies within, that which is there regardless of behaviour, that which needs to meet the healing power of the Christian gospel.

[the Christian preacher] is the messenger of Christ to the soul of man always. His sermon about temperance, or the late election, or the wickedness of oppression, is not an exception, an intrusion in the current of that preaching which is always testifying of the spiritual salvation. He is ready to speak on any topic of the day, but his sermon is not likely to be mistaken for an article from some daily newspaper. It looks at the topic from a loftier height, traces the trouble to a deeper source, and is not satisfied except with a more thorough cure.

Phillips Brooks, The Joy Of Preaching, Kregel Classics, 1989, pg. 110.

I purchased bluray copies of Frank Capra movies a while ago, but only got around to watching You Can’t Take It With You today.
The movie received the Academy Award for Best Picture and Capra the Oscar for Best Director in 1938.
Capra had a theme of guileless optimism overcoming cynical self-interest in his movies and this one overlays that with elements of screwball comedy. Drama presents itself at the right time and while the outcome may be sentimental by modern tastes it is an appropriate ending point for this story.
Before watching this and other Capra movies I had not encountered Jean Arthur; she is a remarkable performer.
And the performances of Jimmy Steward and Lionel Barrymore give a stark contrast to their later performances in It’s A Wonderful Life in such a way that audiences of that film must have had their expectations subverted particularly by the unrelenting nature of Barrymore’s miserly character in the latter film.

The ongoing unfolding of God’s word that takes place in the relationship of pastor and people is the essence of the sermon.
A sermon is not a sermon unless eternal truth is communicated with the purpose of God’s people responding to the call on their lives, and that those who are not God’s people can understand and heed that same call.

A sermon exists in and for its purpose. That purpose is the persuading and moving men’s souls. That purpose must never be lost sight of. If it ever is, the sermon flags. It is not always on the surface; not always impetuous and eager in the the discourses of the settled pastor as it is in the appeals of the evangelist who speaks this once and this once only to the men he sees before him. The sermon of the habitual preacher grows more sober, but it never can lose out of it this consciousness of a purpose; it never can justify itself in any self-indulgence that will hinder or delay that purpose. It always aimed at men. It is always looking in their faces to see how they are moved..

Phillips Brooks, The Joy Of Preaching, Kregel Classics, 1989, pg. 92.

Tell Me The Story Of Jesus words by Fanny Crosby and music by John R. Sweney, as sung by Ernie Haase and Signature Sound.
The three verses follow from the incarnation at Christmas, the temptation in the wilderness (which the church also recalls during lent) and the crucifixion and resurrection of Easter.
This version features verses one and three.

The lyrics:
1
Tell me the story of Jesus,
write on my heart every word;
tell me the story most precious,
sweetest that ever was heard.
Tell how the angels, in chorus,
sang as they welcomed His birth,
“Glory to God in the highest!
Peace and good tidings to earth.”
Refrain:
Tell me the story of Jesus,
write on my heart every word;
tell me the story most precious,
sweetest that ever was heard.
2
Fasting alone in the desert,
tell of the days that are past;
how for our sins He was tempted,
yet was triumphant at last.
Tell of the years of His labor,
tell of the sorrow He bore;
He was despised and afflicted,
homeless, rejected, and poor.
Refrain:
3
Tell of the cross where they nailed Him,
writhing in anguish and pain;
tell of the grave where they laid Him,
tell how He liveth again.
Love in that story so tender,
clearer than ever I see:
stay, let me weep while you whisper,
love paid the ransom for me.
Refrain