Chapter 13

The man and woman read interest and love in the young face, and as she left the place, with a 'Good-night, and God bless you,' the words echoed after her.

Crossing the road with renewed energy, she was soon within the doors of 'The Little Bear,' which was known as one of the roughest houses of that quarter. Sitting in the corner was an old man whom she asked to buy a 'War Cry.'

'Yes,' he answered warmly, 'after what you did after the air raid last week, I should think I would.' Sitting huddled in another corner was a poor, wretched 'drunk,' ragged, dirty, and woe-begone. Seeing the Salvationist, and before she had opportunity of offering him a 'War Cry,' he held out a penny saying, 'Here, give us one; I like you people.' Before she left he was made to feel that The Army loved such as he--and who knows the result of that word?

'The Lion' had still to be attacked, but Ina had the value of her experience in 'The Tiger' and 'The Bear,' and no longer trembled. It was not all smooth sailing. We are not told if the lions in Daniel's den lay down perfectly still, or whether some came close to him, sniffing and snarling; but we are told that they were powerless to hurt God's child. Even in this vile place the devil could only go 'so far.' His servants seemed forced to give respect to God's messenger in spite of themselves.

The saloon-keeper's wife appeared on the scene and bought a 'Young Soldier.' Ina was quick to enrol her as a customer, and now, week by week, 'The Young Soldier' is handed to her little daughter with the prayer that her father and mother may be led to God. As Ina enters the saloon bar there is a respectful hush and the little missionary is able to sow the seed. A soldier is accosted who is on leave from the trenches. He tells of his troubles, of that terrible battle when he felt his need of God. Before she leaves him a tear is seen, as he promises to seek God. Many such incidents are happening week by week as she goes on her round. Only eternity will reveal the outcome of such efforts.

Is there another corps cadet who should take up this work?

Corps Cadet Ina writes of the influence of her spiritual mother upon her life:--

After I had become a Salvationist and longed to work as she had worked, she accompanied me to teach me the art of successful 'saloon-raiding.' She made several bar frequenters special cases. Sometimes she got them to give her their names, and these went on our special prayer list. We had cases in the saloons as well as the bar. If she could induce them to give their addresses, she would take me with her to visit them in their homes, or would keep in touch with them by writing. We had several conversions.

As we walked from one place to another, she would impress upon me the importance of keeping in the spirit. 'It is not merely selling "The War Cry,"' she would say; 'it is the grand opportunity of dropping words for God.'

As we see this warrior broken in health, undergoing continual treatment of a very painful nature, yet week by week accompanying the corps cadet to saloons in a district outlying the ordinary activities of an Army corps, we realize the truth of The General's words:--

Her appetite grew by what it fed on. She loved sinners from the beginning, but she went on until she could not live without them. She was insatiable. Her soul could not be satisfied in any other way. She was always working for souls, seeking souls, knocking at the doors of mercy for souls, loving souls.

The corps cadet continues:--

I thank God for sending her into my life. For years she was The Salvation Army to me, all I knew of it; and years before I was permitted to go to a Salvation Army meeting, I had determined that God and The Army would have all my life.

Her life was wonderful. Even though ill and on rest she had a plan for every hour of the day. Sometimes she would visit the people. If they disappointed her she would try the harder to win them. She was always hunting round to help families in need.

She spent a great deal of time in writing, and when I would persuade her to leave her desk and come for a walk, she would give me what she termed, 'Field Drill.' Oh, those talks; how I treasure the memory of them! On one of the last occasions she said to me, 'The sins of the world will do one of three things for you; they will either harden your heart, or break it, or soften it. _I want you to have a soft, tender heart_.'

Sometimes she would commend me; but, as a true friend, she would also reprimand me when I needed it, yet always in love, showing me where I might be better. She taught me how to study the Bible, and infused into my heart some of her love for it. 'I mean to make the Bible my one book. It is one of my New Year's resolutions,' she told me at the beginning of this year, and at the same time mentioned a new idea which would make study of the Word of God more easy.

She taught me by example, as well as by what she said, to conquer by prayer.

When she was not writing articles or revising subject notes, she wrote letters to those she had been the means of blessing. Beautiful letters they were; sometimes she delighted me by dictating them and letting me type them for her.

Although she found her long periods of rest trying because of her great love for souls, she maintained a bright, beautiful spirit, and had a smile whenever one saw her. She compared her last few years to a long dark tunnel, and just before she died, when anticipating her new appointment, she said, 'I really believe I'm coming to the end of it at last.'

Surely one of the most beautiful pictures in Kate Lee's life is here. Ill, in a sense alone and amongst strangers, yet triumphant, filling the days with any little services that came to her hand, performing them as faithfully as she had performed her field duties in the glare of the limelight, and seeking to bring into one young life the spirit that would give to the world a warrior after her own heart, against the day that her own feet could no longer be swift and beautiful for God.

XV

AT HER DESK

In John Wesley's house in the City Road, London, is a small room which was built expressly to be the prayer-chamber of the Founder of Methodism. When I entered the small sitting-room of one of Kate Lee's field quarters, I was conscious of feelings of reverence similar to those which possessed me in Wesley's prayer-room. There she had wrestled and prayed, planned and studied, written and interviewed callers who sought her help. It was holy ground.

The sitting-room of the little home which she enjoyed for the last two or three years of her life, was a reflex of her character in modesty, simplicity, and usableness. A soft green paper covered the walls, dark lino the floor, a rug or two here and there; a writing-desk, book-case, a cottage piano, a couple of easy chairs, and a couch completed the furniture. On the walls and mantleshelf were Army photos, a print of Christ at prayer; a few treasures, 'with a meaning' (her sister explains), picked up here and there as mementoes of her furloughs; a small French bronze of Jesus carrying His cross; a petrified bird's nest, which has served as an object lesson in children's meetings, and so on.

This quiet room was the dearest of retreats to Kate Lee. Here, with her sister, who anticipated her every wish and lavished love upon her, she shut the door upon the world with its turmoils, and gave herself up to study and rest. Her books were her greatest treasures. In them she enjoyed the company of the greatest and best of souls, who believed as she believed, fought for the things she counted worth while, and triumphed as she was endeavouring to triumph.

Her bookshelf contained, perhaps, one hundred volumes in all; chosen, as were all her small possessions, with an eye to the highest values.

A notebook furnishes a list of the books she read during her field service; they included The Founder's and The Army Mother's works, Finney's 'Revivals,' many biographies, Meyer's 'Bible Characters,' and more thoughtful studies such as Butler's 'Analogy.' How she had managed time for reading during those busy, rushed days, is revealed in a reply to a young officer who had consulted her on self-improvement. She wrote, 'I trained myself to read one chapter of some good book every day.'

To sit at the desk where Kate Lee had worked, open its drawers and draw out the contents, was to discover on everything the stamp of the principles which had governed her life. Everything was in perfect order. Here is her diary, a memorandum of coming events and engagements fulfilled; and her accounts. Here a locked box; in it a tiny leather bag, holding the balance of her 'Lord's money,' with a reference to her diary for the exact amount due; also the covenant mentioned elsewhere. A much-worn 'Where Is It?' contains a record, with shorthand remarks, of every address she had delivered, in alphabetical order of the place where she had spoken. She commenced these entries at her second corps, nearly thirty years earlier, and by reference, could ascertain in a few minutes the addresses or lectures she had given on Holiness, Salvation, Social, or other subjects, whether in Sunderland, Brighton, Croydon, Thetford, or elsewhere. For her there was no unpleasant wondering as to whether she might repeat her subject on a return visit anywhere.

Kate had a peculiar shyness and reserve regarding her subject-notes. They were sacred to her; she had received them on her knees 'in the mount,' often in loneliness and tears. Commandant Lucy drew out from her sister's desk three half-leather, locked volumes. She handled them gently, smiled and hesitated a moment, 'No one but Kate has ever opened these,' she said. 'Sometimes I used to tease her, and pretend to take one up, but no, until the end that was not allowed.'

A key was inserted in one of the books, and it fell open. Treasure trove indeed! Six hundred pages of most carefully prepared subject-notes and illustrations on every imaginable topic that might appeal to the soul. Every page an example of method, care, and good taste.

Under bold, red headings, in her shapely, flowing hand, the various subjects are classified, and set out. The second volume is similar; the third is only half filled, and turning to the end it seems as though she anticipated that this was to be her last book, for there are personal notes and entries on the chief events of her life. The latter begins, 'Born August 3, 1872; born again September 17, 1885. First bonnet, Alexandra Palace, 1887; Trade Headquarters, November 20, 1889. Commissioned Lieutenant, June 20, 1890. Chalk Farm Training Garrison, June 19, 1892.' Then follow her appointments till the last, which appears in pencil, when she was 'Awaiting appointment.'

There are mottoes she chose on New Year's Day for many years. Among the number are 'Keep thy Soul Diligently'; 'Deal Courageously and Deal with the Ones '; 'Obey, Bear, Seek'; 'Stand by the Flag.'

The first of the subject-notes in the last of the volumes deals with Barabbas. One sees him in the dungeon, a thief, a terror. There is a picture of the world in his day. He is called to die. Christ appears. Christ dies for Barabbas.

The next notes are on 'Life. How to view it. The Servant; the Mistress; the Workman; the Master; the Soldier; the Sergeant; the Local Officer; the Officer.'

Ezekiel seemed to have gripped the Adjutant's imagination during the last year of her life; she had prepared several powerful addresses from his prophecies.

'Paradise Lost' and 'Paradise Regained' provides thought for several closely-packed pages. Then follow a series of addresses to young people on Good Behaviour. I. At Home. II. In the Street. III. In The Salvation Army Citadel. IV. Toward the Opposite Sex. V. On Tobacco. VI. Reading.

There are comprehensive notes on Christianity.

Notes of a Session at the College for Staff Officers.

Twenty closely written pages on the Bible. How written? Why so called? Written by whom? Notes on each book. Translations, etc.

Madam Guyon on prayer.

Many pages on 'Preaching' being expressions from master preachers, showing how to capture the souls of men.

To fill over one thousand pages with careful, close writing, took time. But Kate Lee did no fancy work; she never gossiped; she kept no pets; she did not even 'garden'; she seldom went for a walk except on a mission. She cared only for those things that would forward the Kingdom of God, and while some played with shells and made sand castles that a day's tide swept away, she delved in the King's mines, finding precious things wherewith to serve the Holy War.

Kate gathered in order to give out again. Her gift of expression was small at the beginning, but she so stirred it up and improved it, that, with increasing ease, she was able by both spoken and written word to express her thoughts in simple, direct English that reached hearts. The knowledge grew upon her that she would not always be able for public work, and she determined to prepare herself to appeal to souls by her pen. In her last letter to her sister, she wrote:--

There are one or two things I would like you to see to for me. In the cupboard, under my writing-desk, you will find some articles I have written. No. 1. 'Temples of Fire.' It is a subject that has been upon my soul for a long time. I did not offer this series for publication as I intended to shape it up again. I hardly know if the articles will be considered worth accepting; but if something could be done with them, I should be glad.

There is another series I was trying to write on 'The Master's Locals.' You will also find, 'The Story of Jesus,' and 'Thoughts about the Cross,' and several other little articles. I am afraid none of them are up to the mark, but if anything could be done with them to help souls, I should rejoice.

These manuscripts show how she spared herself no pains to prepare a message. Over and over again she would draft a sentence, a page, or an article until she felt the message to be arresting. Then she sent it forth with much love and prayer. When it appeared in print--often anonymously--sometimes under her name or initials, she delighted and wondered that God gave to her the broad platform of The Army publications. The following articles, both of which appeared in 'The War Cry,' indicate something of the fresh, crisp heart messages that she gave to saint and sinner from her platform. When pressed by editors of The Army publications for an article, she took some hours from her sleep in order to prepare them for the press. Kate did not speak from notes. She had in her Bible a few headings on a sheet of paper, but having prepared her subject with great prayerfulness, after reading the Scriptures she left the reading desk, and in the simplicity and earnestness of her pure soul, freely gave out her message.

A GLORIOUS CLEANSING _'Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean'_ (Matthew viii. 2)

The story of the leper is, to my mind, one of the most wonderful stories in the Bible, as it so forcibly illustrates how God looks upon and deals with sin. Leprosy was in the days of Christ an acknowledged type of sin, and we see in the condition of the leper a picture of its utter loathsomeness.

I fancy I see the poor fellow outside the city gate--cut off from his home and friends.

But they do not forget him, and each morning some loved one--a mother, perhaps--at an early hour comes to the gate and there places a little basket of provisions sufficient for his needs of the day. Then she goes away, and from a distance watches the poor creature draw near, and take the much-needed food. One morning the basket must, I fancy, have contained, in addition to the food, a message which, as the poor leper reads, brings a ray of hope into his wretched, weary life.

The note tells of Jesus, the wonderful Christ, who is going about healing all kinds of incurable diseases, and even raising the dead to life.

'Oh, if only _you_ could _see_ Him! If only you could get near enough to Jesus, there might be a chance for you, my poor boy!' his mother may have written.

As he reads, his poor face brightens as he murmurs to himself, 'Yes, I will try, I will risk all; I will chance the consequences.'

Let us look at him a moment. Here is vileness indeed, a very type of impurity; and here we see how sin looks in the eyes of God.

His limbs swollen, his hair white, tumours appear on his jaws, his breath noisome, and his whole person fitted to inspire loathing.

Leprosy is infectious and of slow progress. It begins within the body, and throws out a moisture which corrupts the outside, and covers it with a kind of white scale. It is said that the body becomes so hot that a fresh apple held but an hour in the hand will be withered and wrinkled. The parts of the body infected become insensible, and in time fall off.

The leper is conscious that he is vile. He wears the leper's garment, and day by day from his lips comes the mournful cry, 'Unclean, unclean!'

Then, the leper is not only conscious of his vileness, and acknowledges it, but he despairs of cleansing. He knows that unless some Supreme Power intervenes death will ensue.

It was, perhaps, his desperate condition which led this leper, of whom we speak, to break, with heroic courage, through the ceremonial law, and to expose himself to the risk of being stoned to death that he might cast himself at the Saviour's feet.

See him venturing through the gate into the city to find Jesus. And when at last he approaches the place where he expected to see Jesus, he discovers to his great disappointment that the Lord has gone up the mountain side.

I fancy I see the leper crouching, waiting, and watching for Jesus. At last, that wonderful Form appears, and comes down the mountain with a great crowd following.

How can he get to Jesus? is the leper's first thought. With a dash and the cry,' Unclean!' which causes the crowd to make way and shrink back in horror, he rushes forward and prostrates himself at the feet of Jesus. 'Lord, if Thou wilt,' he cries, 'Thou canst make me clean.'

Here we see the vast difference between curiosity and need. The crowd follow out of curiosity. The leper flings himself in abandon at Jesus' feet because of his need. _Need_ alone will make a man really come to Jesus. The soul that feels its need, and realizes its sin, will make an effort--a dash to get to God.

Listen to the leper's prayer! 'Lord.' He owns Jesus as his Lord. He makes a complete, unconditional, and unreserved surrender, and feels his helplessness! Only God can save him! That is the way to come to Jesus!

His was a model prayer--simple, short, direct. It was grounded in a glorious faith in the power of Christ to heal; a prayer that did not limit God; believed, indeed, that with Him nothing was impossible.

It is well to recollect that God has never failed with a case yet. Those who have wandered the farthest away from Him, those who have sunk the lowest, He can restore, and will never turn His ear from a prayer fashioned like that of the leper's.

I fancy I see the breathless crowd shrinking back in horror! I fancy, too, that I hear those clear, beautiful words ring forth: 'I will; be thou clean.' But Jesus not only speaks; to the astonishment of the crowd, He puts forth His hand and _touches_ the leper. That touch may have been a violation of the letter of the law, but not of the spirit. Jesus knew His touch would give healing to the leper, and not pollution to Himself.

At the cry of the leper, Jesus touched him immediately, true figure of God's readiness to forgive and cleanse sin.

Jesus is the same to-day. He deals with sin and the sinner in the same way. If you will come in the same spirit as the leper, His hand will be immediately stretched forth to save.

When Jesus touched the leper I can picture the crowd drawing nearer. They watch the wonderful change take place. A flush passes over the leper's pale face, the despairing look gives way to an overwhelming look of joy. The cringing stoop and feeble gait change to an upright attitude and a firm tread. See him going to show himself to the priest. He is commanded to 'tell no one,' but as he goes he meets an old friend. The temptation is too great; he tells him what has happened, and then another and another. He cannot keep the truth in, but blazes it abroad.

Oh! If you would find Christ you must push through the difficulties and the hindrances that would keep you away from Him. If, in the spirit of the leper, you come as you are, conscious of your sin, confessing it with faith in God's power to cleanse you, you will hear the selfsame words from those gracious lips: 'I will; be thou clean,' and immediately your leprosy, your sin, will leave you.

I see the new creation rise, I hear the speaking Blood; It speaks! Polluted nature dies, Sinks 'neath the cleansing Flood.

The cleansing Stream I see, I see, I plunge, and, Oh it cleanseth me! Oh, praise the Lord, it cleanseth me! It cleanseth me, yes, cleanseth me!

* * * * *

HARVESTS: JOY AND SORROW _'The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few'_ (Matthew ix. 37)

As we read these words of the Master we fancy we can see His benign and majestic Presence as He stops and, turning round, looks not upon the beautiful harvest fields, with waving corn, but upon the vast field of the world, with its teeming masses of humanity.

So many are ready to look upon the cornfields of gain, to look for something to fill their baskets and store, but hearts like the Master's are wanted that see the great harvest fields of humanity, all ripe and ready to be gathered in. Hearts are wanted that will not only go out in sentimental sympathy, but that will give a helping hand, where it is required, leaving the fields of gain, and toiling for love amidst human need. There seem to be two thoughts in the mind of the Master. As He speaks He strikes two notes--one of joy, and one of sorrow.

A plentiful harvest always brings joy. Another harvest of the earth is being gathered, and as I write I am looking upon the golden cornfields, and see the men all busily engaged. Thank God for plenty!

Do we praise God sufficiently for His mercies? Do we always value them? Sometimes we do not fully appreciate them until they are withdrawn.

It seems to me that if the Master walked our crowded cities, He would repeat again those words, 'Truly the harvest is plenteous.' Plenty to reap; only labourers are wanted to go out. The masses are still there; the need is for some one to go to the masses.

Then the note of sorrow seems to drown and spoil the note of joy. 'The harvest is plenteous'--rejoice! 'But the labourers are few'--cause for sorrow. The masses are there--the opportunity--but so few to take hold of it. Corn to be gathered in, but few reapers.

The harvest was plenteous in the time of Christ, but it is even more so now. The people are waiting for us, they expect us and look to us, who are the followers of Christ, to go to their help!