Chapter 6

"I found another lady visitor at my friend's and we were to share the same bed. This was a little trial; I had to ask the Lord to give me patience--and He did. One night, I was very restless and nervous; I could not sleep. I knew I was disturbing my friend--soon she said, 'Annie, I am going to ask the Lord to come and put you to sleep. Now, lay still, and in five minutes you will be all right'. I did so, also breathing the words, 'Give me sleep, dear Saviour.' The room seemed to be full of a soft, soothing influence, and I fell asleep. Once only in the night I awoke, but soon went asleep. When I awoke in the morning, rested and refreshed, Tillie, who was dressing near me, looked up with her pleasant smile and said, 'Annie, how wonderful it was. You were asleep in less than five minutes. It seemed as though Jesus stood close by your side; I could _almost see_ Him, I felt so clearly His presence. He is here now, Annie; can't you feel Him near? He was very good to you last night.' Yes, indeed, I felt the influence of His presence, and, all day, whenever I entered the room, I felt it, and it seemed as though I must tread softly, it was so like holy ground. This feeling lasted through my stay, and, last Winter, while again visiting the home of my friends, it all came back to me again. This beautiful influence has ever kept with me, and I never close my eyes in sleep until I say, 'Oh, Lord, breathe upon me the sweet spirit of sleep.' However weary, sick or nervous I may be, I feel that the soothing power will come; and, with my hand in His, I rest peacefully, at last."

PRAYING FOR A NEW HAT.

"Whatsoever thing ye ask in _My_ name"--

"For a long while I had been without money, and my need was very great. I wanted a new hat so much; and the question arose in my mind, 'What am I going to do about it?' As I had no human arm to depend on for anything, of course there was only one way for me to do--ask the Lord for money to get me a hat. With me, to think is to act, and so I told the Lord all about it, asking, if it was His will, to send me, in His own way, money for the article I needed. Day after day passed, and I felt almost discouraged. One day, a letter came from a lady friend I had never seen, enclosing one dollar. I bought my hat--neither could I have used that dollar for another purpose. Soon after this, my physician ordered something for me. I had no money to get it, but said I would get it soon as I could. Three weeks passed, and no money came. Then I asked the Lord for enough to get my medicine. Another letter came from an old nurse, with a gift of one dollar. I had my medicine. Time after time, I have not had wherewith to send my letters, and, as I have a large correspondence, it often is a real trouble. The only way I have to do is to _pray for it,_ and always, in some way, it comes; not in _my way_--not just as soon as I ask for it--but in His own way, He always provides. I have learned to trust and not be afraid, even though the clouds hang heavy, and I see no ray of light, the promise is there, and for me, 'I will _never_ leave thee, or forsake thee.' I am so entirely dependent on Him for everything that sometimes, in little matters, my faith will, for a brief season, droop. Sometimes I have to plead and plead over again some particular promises; but these times of waiting on Him only strengthen me for future conflicts. 'Wait on the Lord, and he shall renew thy strength,' comes in beautifully on such occasions. No human being to help me; no one but God. Sometimes, when I sit alone, such a flood of feelings come over me, I well nigh sink. Loneliness, homesickness, and the great want in every human heart of sympathy and love, leave me, for a moment, without hope or faith; but, when the heart is weakest, and the need greatest, the loving Saviour is nearest. 'Like as a mother comforteth her child, so does He comfort me;' and then, soothed by his power and love, how the aching heart rests 'by the still waters, and in the green pastures.' There is nothing but prayer for the helpless sinner; nothing else will bring us into loving companionship with the Lord. We may go to Him always, with every trial, need or sorrow. He is ever waiting--ever ready to hear and answer."

PRAYING FOR A SEWING MACHINE.

"One day a lady friend said to me: 'Would you like some nice sewing, easy to do?' I answered, 'Yes.' 'Have you a sewing machine?' 'I have not, but am praying for one.' 'That is right; so you believe you will have it by praying for it?' I replied: 'If the Lord thinks I need it, He will send it.' I had learned to use my sister's, but I wanted one of my own, to use just when I felt like it. So the thought kept in my heart, 'Why can't I pray for one?' And yet it seemed foolish to go in prayer to God for such a simple thing, but I had not then learned that _all things,_ with Him, meant every wish and want of the human heart. But there was no other way. He must send my machine, or I could have none. I prayed very earnestly. After a few weeks of waiting, one golden winter morning it came--my beautiful machine--just what I wanted. This seemed so wonderful to me, that it seemed to bring me into nearer companionship with the Lord, and ever after, whatever I needed, I went directly to Him for. A ministerial friend once asked me what it was I had covered up on the stand. I told him it was my piano, taking the cover aside and showing him at once how my beautiful sewing machine worked. _'What tune do you play oftenest?'_ he asked. _'Rock of Ages_ is its favorite one, and I never sew without singing it.'"

MONEY FOR POSTAGE.

"One day I opened my port-monnaie to get change for some little needful, when I found I had but ten cents. I used five of it. As visions of six or seven letters and many little things I needed came up before me, I said aloud: 'The Lord will have to send me some money pretty soon.' I think once through the day I prayed for some money, but felt no uneasiness about it. That evening a lady friend called to say good-by for the winter, and as she left gave me _fifty cents for postage._ While I was calling He answered me. About a week before this, I thought I would ask the Lord for $5 for my physician. He had come so faithfully, day after day, without ever expecting one dollar, because I had told him freely my circumstances. But I felt I must give him something for a gift at least. So I asked for five dollars. Day after day passed away, and I thought perhaps the Lord did not want me to have it. But still I prayed, asking it for His will, not mine. One morning a letter came from a very dear friend, containing a check for the amount for which I had prayed, and a little beside. It seemed such a signal answer to my prayer, that I could scarcely speak, and in my heart a glad prayer of thanksgiving went up to Him, who had told me _to ask and I should receive._ A friend, to whom I told this, said: 'Now you need this money yourself; I would not give it to the doctor now--wait awhile.' 'But,' I replied, 'I dare not do it. I need it, I know, but I asked God for it for my doctor, and I must give it.' And here let me say, when we ask God for money, it is sacred, and must be spent only to please Him."

PRAYING FOR A BIBLE.

"For a long while it has been my habit to be entirely guided for the day by the first verse in the Bible on which my eyes rested. While dressing for the day, I glance at the open page, or sometimes turning over the leaves. But my old Bible was poor print and small, and it troubled me for a long while. So I thought I would ask the Lord to send me a new one. I told Him all about it. One day, this Summer, the postman brought me a package of magazines and a letter. I began to undo the package, eager to scan their welcome pages. My sister laughingly said she would read my letter, and suiting the action to the word, opened the envelope. I really did not mind what she was doing, until she said: 'Why there is some money here, but no letter.' So she handed me the half sheet of paper, with the money folded inside. I looked it over, and there were only these words in pencil: 'For a Bible, and three dollars.' We looked at each other; I could not say a word, until she said, 'What does it all mean? 'I answered, 'The Lord sent it, I know; where could it come from?' It was wonderful--wonderful because I could not remember as I ever told any one that I was praying for a Bible."

A SPRING MATTRESS.

"Last Summer, when I bought my bedstead, I did not have money to get either springs or a mattress, so I fixed up a clean, straw bed, and covered it nicely with a thick comfortable. It was pretty hard--I did not rest well. So, one sleepless night, I said aloud, 'I will just ask the Lord to send me a set of springs.' I kept on day by day. When I felt the severe pain which denoted illness, I thought of my hard bed and prayed more earnest. One day my physician spoke of my hard bed. I told him I was going to have a better one; I was praying for some springs. And so I kept on. One day, a lady friend said something about my bed. I did not say much. Somehow I felt I must not; I wanted to have it all the Lord's doings, if I ever had any. One day my sister said a man was at the door, who wanted to fit a set of springs to my bed. Why, I can't tell how I felt; even after God had answered my simple prayers, and honored my faith so many times, I was astonished at this. But she helped me up, and the bed was fitted with nice, new springs. And they were mine. The man could not tell anything about them. My sister says, 'Annie, did you order them?' I said, 'No.' 'Don't you know who sent them?' I said, 'No.' 'Did you ask Mrs. W---- to order them?' I said, 'I did not; I would lay here six years before I would do it. No, somebody had a hand in it, but the Lord sent them, because I prayed for them all the time.' A friend was present when my physician called. I told him about the new springs. His kind face lit up grandly at this new evidence that God did answer humble, faithful prayer, and he turned to my friend with the words: 'I am glad they were just what she has been praying for.' I do not think he had anything to do about them. But these springs are only another proof of his love and power, in touching the hearts of his children to help others. And they have their reward. Soon after this, a lady sent me a white spread for my bed. Surely, God is good to his little ones."

THE HEALING OF MARY THEOBALD.

The following incident is related by her pastor, at Woburn, Mass., who, for three and a half years, was well acquainted with her physical condition, and who testified, in _The Congregationalist_, that no medicine, or physician's aid or advice, was of any avail:

"From the first of my acquaintance to the last, she had an unswerving confidence in her recovery. Many times has she said to me: 'I believe that I shall be well. Jesus will raise me up. I shall hear you preach some day.'

"But, in common with the friends who were watching her case, and with the physicians who had exhausted their skill upon her in vain, I had little or no hope for her. It seemed to me that her life was to be one of suffering; that God was keeping her with us that we might have a heroic example of what His grace could enable one to bear and to become.

"A few days ago, I received from her lips the following statement of the origin and progress of her sickness: 'My first sickness occurred when I was about sixteen years old. This illness lasted for a year. Indeed, I was never well again. That sickness left me with a bad humor, which, for two years, kept me covered with boils. When the boils disappeared, the trouble was internal. Physicians feared a cancer. For ten years, I was sick, more or less--sometimes able to work, sometimes utterly prostrate.

"'My second severe illness began in the Autumn of 1871. I had been failing for two years. Then I was obliged to give up. I was on the bed five months. From this illness I never recovered so as to labor or walk abroad. When not confined to my bed, I have been on the lounge, as you have known me. No one can ever know the suffering which these years have brought me.'

"My acquaintance with her began in the Spring of 1873. Several times since I have known her, she has been carried so low that we have thought her release near at hand; and, indeed, the general tendency has been downwards. I recently asked an intelligent physician, who had attended her for a year or more, to give me the facts in her case. He replied: 'She is diseased throughout. Her system is thoroughly soured. It responds to nothing. Almost every function is abnormal. There is no help for her in medicine.' Other physicians had tried their skill with the same result. It was generally admitted by doctors, friends and family, that nothing more could be done for her. While all saw only suffering and an early death in store for her, yet she confidently expected to be well, and her faith never waned.

"It was her custom to spend a few weeks each year in the family of one of the sisters in the church. At her last visit, it was evident to this lady that Mary was not so well as in former years. One day, when conversation turned upon this topic, she felt constrained to express her fears. But Mary was hopeful. A proposition was made, and arrangements were perfected to visit Doctor Cullis, to secure the benefit of his prayers. But her feebleness was so great that the plan was abandoned. 'If,' said Mrs. F., 'faith is to cure you, why go to Doctor Cullis, or to any one? Let us go to God ourselves; and, Mary, if you have faith that God can and will cure you sometime, why not believe that He will _cure you now?_'

"She felt herself cast on God alone. All hope of human help was at an end. She had thought it, hitherto, enough patiently to wait His time. She saw that, after all, she must not dishonor God by limiting His power. Again her Bible opened to the familiar passages, '_the prayer of faith shall save the sick_;' 'according to your faith be it unto you.' She felt that the time for testing her faith had come. She would dishonor the Lord no longer. Requesting the prayers of the family that God would now grant healing and restoration, she tottered to her couch, and, asking that in the morning she might be well, calmly closed her eyes in the assurance that it would be so. _And according to her faith, so it was. She came forth in the morning without a remnant of the pain which had filled a decade of years with agony_. That Sabbath was to her, indeed, 'a high day.' A week later the frequent prophecy that she should hear me preach was fulfilled.

"_Not a vestige of suffering remained_. So far as that is concerned, there was not a hint left that she had been an invalid for almost a score of years.

"_She immediately took her place in the family as a well person._ Two days after, I saw her. She came to meet me with a step light and strong, and with a face written all over with thankfulness and joy. Since that time all the abandoned duties of active life have been resumed. When last I saw her, she was in bounding health and spirits, declaring that she could not remember when she had felt so happy and well. That night--one of the coldest of the winter, the roads at their iciest--she walked more than half a mile to and from the prayer-meeting.

It is difficult for those who are not conversant with the case to believe it, yet there is no illusion in it. _That she went to sleep a suffering, feeble, shattered woman, and, awoke free from pain, and that she has been gaining in strength ever since, are facts that cannot be doubted_."

HOW PRAYER HELPED HIM TO KEEP THE PLEDGE.

In a rural district, in the North of England, lived a shoe-maker who had signed the temperance pledge often, but never had strength to keep it. After a while, he was able to keep it, and reformed entirely. A friend was curious to learn how he had been able, at last, to win the victory, and went to see him.

"Well, William, how are you?"

"Oh, pretty well. I had only eighteen pence and an old hen when I signed, and a few old scores; but now I have about ten pounds in the bank, and my wife and I have lived through the summer without getting into debt. But as I am only thirty weeks old yet (so he styled himself), I cannot be so strong yet, my friend."

"How is it you never signed before?"

"I did sign; but I keep it different now to what I did before, friend."

"How is this?"

"Why, I _gae doon_ on my knees and pray."

Here was the _real strength of prayer_. His own resolves were of no value; but when he called on God to help, then came new strength, and he was kept by restraining grace. The bitter experience of those who pledge and pledge over and over again, and never gain the victory, at last must come to either of two ends--their utter destruction, or else to call on God in prayer, to help them keep the pledge manfully, and make them steadfast in their resolutions.

ONE WHO REFUSED THE HOLY SPIRIT.

The following incident is related by D.L. Moody, the Evangelist, which contains a warning, how the Holy Spirit avenges itself to those who refuse its admonitions. It is a remarkable instance of the control of an overruling God, who alone knew that man's mind, and which alone could bring that text so often to his memory:

"There was a young man in my native village--he was not a young man when I was talking to him--we were working on the farm together one day and he was weeping; I asked him what he was weeping about, and he told me a very strange story. When he left home his mother gave him the text: '_Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you_.' He was ambitious to get rich, and thought when he had got comfortable, that was the time to give his attention to religion. He went from village to village, and got nothing to do. Sunday came, and he went into the village church. _What was his great surprise to hear the minister preach from that text_. It went down into his heart--he thought that it was his mother's prayers that were following him--he thought the whole sermon was for himself, and thought he would like to get out. For days be could not get that text and sermon out of his mind. He went on still, from village to village, and at last he went into another church after weeks had rolled away. He went for some Sundays to the church, and it wasn't a great while before the minister _gave out this very text_. He thought surely it was God calling him then, and he said, coolly and deliberately, _he would not seek the Kingdom of God_. He went on in this way, and in the course of a few months, to his great surprise, he heard the _third sermon from the third minister on the same text_. He tried to stifle it, but it followed him. At last he made up his mind he would not go to church any more. When he came back to Northfield, after years, his mother had died, but the text kept coming to him over and over, and he said, 'I will not become a Christian;' and said he to me, 'Moody, my heart is as hard as that stone.' It was all Greek to me, because I was not a Christian myself at the time. After my conversion, in Boston, he was about the first man I thought of. When I got back and asked my mother about him, she told me he was gone out of his mind, and to every one who went to the asylum to see him he pointed his finger and said: '_Seek ye first the Kingdom, of God and His Righteousness_.' When I went back to my native village, after that, I was told he was still out of his mind, but at home. I went to see him, and asked him did he know me. He was rocking backwards and forwards in his rocking chair, and he gave me that vacant stare and pointed to me as he said, '_Young man, seek first the Kingdom of God and His Righteousness_.' When, last month, I laid down my younger brother in his grave, I could not help but think of that man lying but a few yards away. May every man and woman here be wise for eternity and seek now the Kingdom of God and His Righteousness, is my prayer."

THE PRAYING SHOE-MAKER.

A correspondent of _The American Messenger_ relates this instance of a poor man in the village where he lived, who, with a family of young children and a wife in very feeble health, found it extremely difficult to obtain a livelihood. He was at length compelled to work by the week for a shoe-dealer in the city, four miles from the village, returning to his family every Saturday evening, and leaving home early on Monday morning.

He usually brought home the avails of his week's labor in provisions for the use of his family during the following week; but on one cold and stormy night, in the depth of winter, he went towards his humble dwelling with empty hands, but a full heart. His employer had declared himself unable to pay him a penny that night, and the shoe-maker, too honest to incur a debt without knowing that he should be able to cancel it, bent his weary steps homeward, trusting that He who hears the ravens when they cry, would fill the mouths of his little family. He knew that he should find a warm house and loving hearts to receive him, but he knew, too, that a disappointment awaited them which would make at least _one_ heart ache.

When he entered his cottage, cold and wet with the rain, he saw a bright fire, brighter faces, and a table neatly spread for the anticipated repast. The tea-kettle was sending forth its cloud of steam, all ready for "the cup which cheers, but not inebriates," and a pitcher of milk, which had been sent in by a kind neighbor, was waiting for the bread so anxiously expected by the children. The sad father confessed his poverty, and his wife in tears begged him to make _some_ effort to procure food for them before the Sabbath. He replied, "Let us ask God to give us our daily bread. Prayer avails with God when we ask for temporal good, as well as when we implore spiritual blessings." The sorrowing group knelt around the family altar, and while the father was entreating fervently for the mercies they so much needed, a gentle knocking at the door was heard. When the prayer was ended the door was opened, and there stood a woman in the "peltings of the storm," who had never been at that door before, though she lived only a short distance from it. She had a napkin in her hand, which contained a large loaf of bread; and half apologizing for offering it, said she had unintentionally made "a larger batch of bread" than usual that day, and though she hardly knew why, she thought it might be acceptable there.

After expressing their sincere gratitude to the woman, the devout shoe-maker and his wife gave thanks to God with overflowing hearts. While the little flock were appeasing their hunger with the nice new bread and milk, the father repaired to the house where I was an inmate, and told his artless tale with streaming eyes, and it is unnecessary to say, that he returned to his home that night with a basket heavily laden, and a heart full of gratitude to a prayer-answering God.

HOW THE LORD CONTROLS EVEN THE LOCOMOTIVE AND THE RAILROAD TRAIN.

A remarkable instance of how the Lord controlled circumstances for the detention of one train, and speeded the arrival of the other, in answer to the prayer of a poor widow, who was in anxiety and distress, is thus known to the editor of _The Watchman and Reflector_: