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The Horse Is His.





"The writer was preaching Sundays at a little country church, about 70
miles by rail from the institution where he attended. He went Saturday,
returning on Monday. One Saturday the train ran off the track. All day
long they worked at the wreck. At last, finding it too late to make
connection with the other railroad, he took the down train back to the
institution. What should be done? A promise to preach forty miles across
the country had been made. There was also an appointment six miles
beyond for an afternoon service. It was now night. To drive across the
country was the only way open, or stay at home. Two disappointed
congregations the result in the latter case. But the roads were heavy
from recent rains. 'Twill be so late that none can direct. Friends said,
'Stay; you can't go forty miles across, to you, an unknown country.' But
the writer felt it duty to go. Hiring a horse noted for endurance, at
nine o'clock at night--dark, threatening--he set out. As he headed the
horse in the direction of the village--for he could find none who could
tell him the exact road--he prayed: 'O God, starting out to preach thy
word to-morrow, direct the way--guide this horse.' The night wore on; as
cross-roads came, dropping the lines over the dashboard, the same prayer
was offered. When the horse chose a road, the driver urged him on. As
day began to break, emerging from some wood in an unfrequented road,
they entered the village they sought. The sermon that morning was from
the text, 'Son, go work to-day in my vineyard.' The largest congregation
of the Summer had gathered. It will not do to say that the horse knew
the road. Returning in broad daylight the next day, though directed and
directed again, we lost the way and went seven miles out of our course.
A scientist might laugh at this way of driving, or at asking God to
guide in such trivial matters. But we shall still believe that God led
the horse and blessed us in our attempt to serve him."





Next: All Our Needs.

Previous: No "ifs."



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