Gods Pathway To Human Hearts

God's Pathway to Human Hearts.





God touches men through men. The Spirit's path to a human heart is through

another human heart. With reverence be it said, yet with blunt plainness

that in His plan for winning men to their true allegiance God is limited

by the human limitations. That may seem to mean more than it really does.

For our thought of the human is of the scarred, warped, shrivelled

h manity that we know, and great changes come when God's Spirit controls.

But the fact is there, however limited our understanding of it.



God needs man for His plan. That is the fact that stands out strong in

thinking about prayer. God's greatest agency; man's greatest agency, for

defeating the enemy and winning men back is intercession. God is counting

mightily upon that. And He can count most mightily upon the man that

faithfully practices that.



The results He longs for are being held back, and made smaller because so

many of us have not learned how to pray simply and skilfully. We need

training. And God understands that. He Himself will train. But we must be

willing; actively willing. And just there the great bother comes in. A

strong will perfectly yielded to God's will, or perfectly willing to be

yielded, is His mightiest ally in redeeming the world.



Answers to prayer are delayed, or denied, out of kindness, _or_, that more

may be given, _or_, that a far larger purpose may be served. But deeper

down by far than that is this: _God's purposes are being delayed_; delayed

because of our unwillingness to learn how to pray, _or_, our slowness--I

almost said--our stupidity in learning. It is a small matter that my

prayer be answered, or unanswered; not small to me; everything perhaps to

me; but small in proportion. It is a tremendous thing that _God's purpose_

for a world is being held back through my lack. The thought that prayer is

_getting things_ from God; chiefly that, is so small, pitiably small, and

yet so common. The true conception understands that prayer is partnership

with God in His planet-sized purposes, and includes the "all things"

beside, as an important detail of the whole.



The real reason for the delay or failure lies simply in the difference

between God's view-point and ours. In our asking either we have not

reached the _wisdom_ that asks best, _or_, we have not reached the

_unselfishness_ that is willing to sacrifice a good thing, for a better,

or the best; the unselfishness that is willing to sacrifice the smaller

personal desire for the larger thing that affects the lives of many.



We learn best by pictures, and by stories which are pen or word pictures.

This was Jesus' favourite method of teaching. There are in the Bible four

great, striking instances of delayed, or qualified answers to prayer.

There are some others; but these stand out sharply, and perhaps include

the main teachings of all. Probably all the instances of hindered prayer

with which we are familiar will come under one of these. That is to say,

where there are good connections upward as suggested in our last talk,

_and_, excepting those that come under the talk succeeding this, namely,

the great outside hindrance. These four are Moses' request to enter

Canaan; Hannah's prayer for a son; Paul's thorn; and Jesus' prayer in

Gethsemane.



Let us look a bit at these in turn.







For the Sake of a Nation.





First is the incident of Moses' ungranted petition. Moses was the leader

of his people. He is one of the giants of the human race from whatever

standpoint considered. His codes are the basis of all English and American

jurisprudence. From his own account of his career, the secret of all his

power as a maker of laws, the organizer of a strangely marvellous nation,

a military general and strategist--the secret of all was in his direct

communication with God. He was peculiarly a man of prayer. Everything was

referred to God, and he declared that everything--laws, organization,

worship, plans--came to him from God. In national emergencies where moral

catastrophe was threatened he petitioned God and the plans were changed in

accordance with his request. He makes personal requests and they are

granted. He was peculiarly a man who dealt directly with God about every

sort of thing, national and personal, simple and complex. The record

commonly credited to him puts prayer as the simple profound explanation of

his stupendous career and achievements. He prayed. God worked along the

line of his prayer. The great things recorded are the result. That is the

simple inferential summary.



Now there is one exception to all this in Moses' life. It stands out the

more strikingly that it is an exception; the one exception of a very long

line. Moses asked repeatedly for one thing. It was not given him. God is

not capricious nor arbitrary. There must be a reason. _There is._ And it

is fairly luminous with light.



Here are the facts. These freed men of Egypt are a hard lot to lead and to

live with. Slow, sensuous, petty, ignorant, narrow, impulsive, strangers

to self-control, critical, exasperating--what an undertaking God had to

make a nation, _the_ nation of history, about which centred His deep

reaching, far-seeing love ambition for redeeming a world out of such

stuff! Only paralleled by the church being built upon such men as these

Galilean peasants! What victories these! What a God to do such things!

Only a God could do either and both! What immense patience it required to

shape this people. What patience God has. Moses had learned much of

patience in the desert sands with his sheep; for he had learned much of

God. But the finishing touches were supplied by the grindstone of friction

with the fickle temper of this mob of ex-slaves.



Here are the immediate circumstances. They lacked water. They grew very

thirsty. It was a serious matter in those desert sands with human lives,

and young children, and the stock. No, it was not serious: really a very

small matter, for _God was along_, and the enterprise was of His starting.

It was His affair, all this strange journey. And they knew Him quite well

enough in their brief experience to be expecting something fully equal to

all needs with a margin thrown in. There was that series of stupendous

things before leaving Egypt. There was the Red Sea, and fresh food daily

delivered at every man's tent door, and game, juicy birds, brought down

within arms' reach, yes, and--surely this alone were enough--there was

living, cool water gushing abundantly, gladly out of the very heart of a

flinty rock--if such a thing can be said to have a heart! Oh, yes it was a

very small matter to be lacking anything with such a lavish God along.



_But they forgot._ Their noses were keener than their memories. They had

better stomachs than hearts. The odorous onions of Egypt made more

lasting impressions than this tender, patient, planning God. Yet here

even their stomachs forgot those rock-freed waters. These people must be

kinsfolk of ours. They seem to have some of the same family traits.



Listen: they begin to complain, to criticise. God patiently says nothing

but provides for their needs. But Moses has not yet reached the high level

that later experiences brought him. He is standing to them for God. Yet he

is very un-Godlike. Angrily, with hot word, he _smites_ the rock. Once

smiting was God's plan; then the quiet word ever after. How many a time

has the once smitten Rock been smitten again in our impatience! _The

waters came_! Just like God! They were cared for, though He had been

disobeyed and dishonoured. And there are the crowds eagerly drinking with

faces down; and up yonder in the shadow standeth God _grieved_, deeply

grieved at the false picture this immature people had gotten of Him that

day through Moses. Moses' hot tongue and flashing eye made a deep moral

scar upon their minds, that it would take years to remove. Something must

be done for the people's sake. Moses disobeyed God. He dishonoured God.

Yet the waters came, for _they needed water_. And God is ever

tender-hearted. But they must be taught the need of obedience, the evil of

disobedience. Taught it so they never could forget.



Moses was a leader. Leaders may not do as common men. And leaders may not

be dealt with as followers. They stand too high in the air. They affect

too many lives. So God said to Moses:--"You will not go into Canaan. You

may lead them clear up to the line; you may even see over, but you may not

go in." That hurt Moses deep down. It hurt God deeper down, in a heart

more sensitive to hurt than was Moses'. Without doubt it was said with

_reluctance_, for _Moses'_ sake. But _it was said_, plainly, irrevocably,

for _their_ sakes. Moses' petition was for a reversal of this decision.

Once and again he asked. He wanted to see that wondrous land of God's

choosing. He felt the sting too. The edge of the knife of discipline cut

keenly, and the blood spurted. But God said:--"Do not speak to Me again of

this." The decision was not to be changed. For Moses' sake only He would

gladly have changed, judging by His previous conduct. For the sake of the

nation--aye, for the sake of the prodigal world to be won back through

this nation, the petition might not be granted. That ungranted petition

taught those millions the lesson of obedience, of reverence, as no

command, or smoking mount, or drowning Egyptians had done. It became

common talk in every tent, by every camp-fire of the tented nation. "Moses

disobeyed,--he failed to reverence God;--he cannot enter Canaan."--With

hushed tones, and awed hearts and moved, strangely moved faces it passed

from lip to lip. Some of the women and children wept. They all loved

Moses. They revered him. How gladly they would have had him go over. The

double-sided truth--obedience--disobedience--kept burning in through the

years.



In after years many a Hebrew mother told her baby, eager for a story, of

Moses their great leader; his appearance, deep-set eyes, long beard,

majestic mien, yet infinite tenderness and gentleness, the softness of

strength; his presence with God in the mount, the shining face. And the

baby would listen so quietly, and then the eyes would grow so big and the

hush of spirit come as the mother would repeat softly, "but he could not

come over into the land of promise because _he did not obey God_." And

strong fathers reminded their growing sons. And so it was woven into the

warp and woof of the nation--_obedience, reverent obedience to God_. And

one can well understand Moses looking down from above with grateful heart

that he had been denied for _their_ sakes. The unselfishness and wisdom of

later years would not have made the prayer. _The prayer of a man was

denied that a nation might be taught obedience_.







That More Might be Given and Gotten.





Now let us look a bit at the second of these, the portrait of Hannah the

Hebrew woman. First the broader lines for perspective. This peculiar

Hebrew nation had two deep dips down morally between Egypt and Babylon;

between the first making, and the final breaking. The national tide ebbed

very low twice, before it finally ran out in the Euphrates Valley. Elijah

stemmed the tide the second time, and saved the day for a later night. The

Hannah story belongs in the first of these ebb-tides; the first bad sag;

the first deep gap.



The giant lawgiver is long gone. His successor, only a less giant than

himself is gone too, and all that generation, and more. The giants gave

way to smaller-sized leaders. Now they are gone also. The mountain peaks

have been lost in the foothills, and these have yielded to dunes, and

levels; mostly levels; dead levels. These mountains must have had long

legs. The foothills are so far away, and are running all to toes. Now the

toes have disappeared.



It is a leaderless people, for the true Leader as originally planned has

been, first ignored, then forgot. The people have no ideals. They grub in

the earth content. There is a deep, hidden-away current of good. But it

needs leadership to bring it to the surface. A leaderless people! This is

the niche of the Hannah story.



The nation was rapidly drifting down to the moral level of the lowest. At

Shiloh the formal worship was kept up, but the very priests were tainted

with the worst impurity. A sort of sleepy, slovenly anarchy prevailed.

Every man did that which was right in his own eyes, with every indication

of a gutter standard. "There was none in the land possessing power of

restraint that might put them to shame in anything." No government; no

dominant spirit. Indeed the actual conditions of Sodom and her sister

cities of the plain existed among the people. This is the setting of the

simple graphic incident of Hannah. One must get the picture clearly in

mind to understand the story.



Up in the hill country of Ephraim there lived a wise-hearted religious

man, a farmer, raising stock, and grain; and fruit, too, likely. He was

earnest but not of the sort to rise above the habit of his time. His farm

was not far from Shiloh, the national place of worship, and he made yearly

trips there with the family. But the woman-degrading curse of Lamech was

over his home. He had two wives. Hannah was the loved one. (No man ever

yet gave his heart to two women.) She was a gentle-spoken, thoughtful

woman, with a deep, earnest spirit. But she had a disappointment which

grew in intensity as it continued. The desire of her heart had been

withheld. She was childless.



Though the thing is not mentioned the whole inference is that she prayed

earnestly and persistently but to her surprise and deep disappointment the

desired answer came not. To make it worse her rival--what a word, for the

other one in the home with her--her rival provoked her sore to make her

fret. And that thing _went on_ year after year. That teasing, nagging,

picking of a small nature was her constant prod. What an atmosphere for a

home! Is it any wonder that "she was in bitterness of soul" and "wept

sore"? Her husband tenderly tries to comfort her. But her inner spirit

remains chafed to the quick. And all this goes on for years; the yearning,

the praying, the failure of answer, the biting, bitter atmosphere,--for

_years_. And she wonders why.



Why was it? Step back and up a bit and get the broader view which the

narrow limits of her surroundings, and shall I say, too, though not

critically, of her spirit, shut out from her eyes. Here is what she saw:

her fondest hope unrealized, long praying unanswered, a constant ferment

at home. Here is what she wanted:--_a son_. That is her horizon. Beyond

that her thought does not rise.



Here is what God saw:--a nation--no, much worse--_the_ nation, in which

centred His great love-plan for winning His prodigal world, going to

pieces. The messenger to the prodigal was being slyly, subtly seduced by

the prodigal. The saviour-nation was being itself lost. The plan so long

and patiently fostered for saving a world was threatened with utter

disaster.



Here is what He wanted--_a leader_! But there were no leaders. And, worse

yet, there were no men out of whom leaders might be made, no men of

leader-size. And worse yet _there were no women_ of the sort to train and

shape a man for leadership. That is the lowest level to which a people

ever gets, aye, ever _can_ get. God had to get a woman before He could get

a man. Hannah had in her the making of the woman He needed. God honoured

her by choosing her. But she must be changed before she could be used. And

so there came those years of pruning, and sifting, and discipline. Shall

we spell that word discipline with a final g instead of e--discipling, so

the love of it may be plainer to our near-sightedness? And out of those

years and experiences there came a new woman. A woman with vision

broadened, with spirit mellowed, with strength seasoned, with will so

sinewy supple as to yield to a higher will, to sacrifice the dearest

_personal pleasure_ for the world-wide purpose; willing that he who was

her dearest treasure should be the nation's _first_.



Then followed months of prayer while the man was coming. Samuel was born,

no, farther back yet, was conceived in the atmosphere of prayer and

devotion to God. The prenatal influences for those months gave the sort of

man God wanted. And a nation, _the_ nation, the _world-plan,_ was saved!

This man became a living answer to prayer. The romantic story of the

little boy up in the Shiloh tabernacle quickly spread over the nation. His

very name--Samuel, God hears--sifted into people's ears the facts of a

God, and of the power of prayer. The very sight of the boy and of the man

clear to the end kept deepening the brain impression through eyeballs that

God answers prayer. And the seeds of that re-belief in God that Samuel's

leadership brought about were sown by the unusual story of his birth.



_The answer was delayed that more might be given and gotten_. And Hannah's

exultant song of praise reveals the fineness to which the texture of her

nature had been spun. And it tells too how grateful she was for a God who

in great patience and of strong deliberate purpose delayed the answer to

her prayer.







The Best Light for Studying a Thorn.





The third great picture in this group is that of Paul and his

needle-pointed thorn. Talks about the certainty of prayer being answered

are very apt to bring this question: "What about Paul's thorn?" Sometimes

asked by earnest hearts puzzled; _some_times with a look in the eye almost

exultant as though of gladness for that thorn because it seems to help out

a theory. These pictures are put into the gallery for our help. Let us

pull up our chairs in front of this one and see what points we may get to

help our hearts.



First a look at Paul himself. The best light on this thorn is through the

man. The man explains the thorn. We have a halo about Paul's head; and

rightly, too. What a splendid man of God he was! God's chosen one for a

peculiar ministry. One of the twelve could be used to open the door to the

great outside world, but God had to go aside from this circle and get a

man of different training for this wider sphere. Cradled and schooled in a

Jewish atmosphere, he never lost the Jew standpoint, yet the training of

his home surroundings in that outside world, the contact with Greek

culture, his natural mental cast fitted him peculiarly for his appointed

task to the great outside majority. His keen reasoning powers, his vivid

imagination, his steel-like will, his burning devotion, his unmovable

purpose, his tender attachment to his Lord,--what a man! Well might the

Master want to win such a man for service' sake. But Paul had some weak

traits. Let us say it very softly, remembering as we instinctively will,

that where we think of one in him there come crowding to memory's door

many more in one's self. A man's weak point is usually the extreme

opposite swing of the pendulum on his strong point. Paul had a tremendous

will. He was a giant, a Hercules in his will. Those tireless journeys with

their terrific experiences, all spell out _will_ large and black. But,

gently now, he went to extremes here. Was it due to his overtired nerves?

Likely enough. He was obstinate, _sometimes;_ stubborn; set in his way:

_sometimes_ head down, jaw locked, driving hard. Say it all _softly_, for

we are speaking of dear old saintly Paul; but, to help, _say_ it, for it

is true.



God had a hard time holding Paul to _His_ plans. Paul had some of his own.

We can all easily understand that. Take a side glance or two as he is

pushing eagerly, splendidly on. Turn to that sixteenth chapter of

Acts,[19] and listen: "Having been forbidden of the Holy Spirit to speak

the word in (the province of) Asia," coupled with the fact of sickness

being allowed to overtake him in Galatia where the "forbidding" message

came. And again this, "they assayed to go into Bithynia; and the Spirit of

Jesus suffered them not."[20] Tell me, is this the way the Spirit of God

leads? That I should go driving ahead until He must pull me up with a

sharp turn, and twist me around! It is the way He is obliged to do many

times, no doubt, with most of us. But His chosen way? His own way? Surely

not. Rather this, the keeping close, and quiet and listening for the next

step. Rather the "I go not up yet unto this feast" of Jesus.[21] And then

in a few days going up, evidently when the clear intimation came. These

words, "assayed to go," "forbidden," "suffered not"--what flashlights they

let into this strong man's character.



But there is much stronger evidence yet. Paul had an ambition to preach to

the _Jerusalem Jews_. It burned in his bones from the early hours of his

new life. The substratum of "_Jerusalem_" seemed ever in his thoughts and

dreams. If _he_ could just get to those Jerusalem Jews! He knew them. He

had trained with them. He was a leader among the younger set. When they

burned against these Christians he burned just a bit hotter. They knew

him. They trusted him to drive the opposite wedge. If only _he_ could have

a chance down there he felt that the tide might be turned. But from that

critical hour on the Damascene road "_Gentiles--Gentiles_" had been

sounded in his ears. And he obeyed, of course he obeyed, with all his

ardent heart. _But, but_--those _Jerusalem Jews_! If he might go to

Jerusalem! Yet very early the Master had proscribed the Jerusalem service

for Paul. He made it a matter of a special vision,[22] in the holy temple,

kindly explaining why. "They will not receive of _thee_ testimony

concerning Me." Would that not seem quite sufficient? Surely. Yet this

astonishing thing occurs:--Paul attempts to argue with the Master _why_ he

should be allowed to go. This is going to great lengths; a subordinate

arguing with his commanding general after the orders have been issued! The

Master closes the vision with a peremptory word of command, "_depart_. I

will send thee _far hence_ (from Jerusalem, where you long to be), to the

Gentiles." That is a picture of this man. It reveals the weak side in

this giant of strength and of love. And _this_ is the man God has to use

in His plan. He is without doubt the best man available. And in his

splendour he stands head and shoulders above his generation and many

generations. Yet (with much reverence) God has a hard time getting Paul to

work always along the line of _His_ plans.



That is the man. Now for the thorn. Something came into Paul's life that

was a constant irritation. He calls it a thorn. What a graphic word! A

sharp point prodding into his flesh, ever prodding, sticking, sticking in;

asleep, awake, stitching tent canvas, preaching, writing, that thing ever

cutting its point into his sensitive flesh. Ugh! It did not disturb him so

much at first, because _there was God_ to go to. He went to God and said,

"_Please_ take this away." But it stayed and stuck. A second time the

prayer; a bit more urgent; the thing sticks so. The time test is the

hardest test of all. Still no change. Then praying the third time with

what earnestness one can well imagine.



Now note three things: First, _There was an answer_. God answered _the

man_. Though He did not grant the petition, He answered the man. He did

not ignore him nor his request. Then God told Paul frankly that it was not

best to take the thorn away. It was in the lonely vigil of a sleepless

night, likely as not, that the wondrous Jesus-Spirit drew near to Paul.

Inaudibly to outer ear but very plainly to his inner ear, He spoke in

tones modulated into tender softness as of dearest friend talking with

dear friend. "Paul," the voice said, "I know about that thorn--and how it

hurts--it hurts Me, too. For _your_ sake, I would quickly, so quickly

remove it. But--Paul"--and the voice becomes still softer--"it is a bit

better for _others_' sake that it remain: the plan in My heart _through

you_ for thousands, yes, unnumbered thousands, Paul, can so best be worked

out." That was the first part of what He said. And Paul lies thinking with

a deep tinge of awe over his spirit. Then after a bit in yet quieter voice

He went on to say, "I will be so close to your side; you shall have such

revelations of My glory that the pain will be clear overlapped, Paul; the

glory shall outstrip the eating thorn point."



I can see old Paul one night in his own hired house in Rome. It is late,

after a busy day; the auditors have all gone. He is sitting on an old

bench, slowing down before seeking sleep. One arm is around Luke, dear

faithful Doctor Luke, and the other around young Timothy, not quite so

young now. And with eyes that glisten, and utterance tremulous with

emotion he is just saying:--"And dear old friends, do you know, I would

not have missed this thorn, for the wondrous glory"--and his heart gets

into his voice, there is a touch of the hoarseness of deep emotion, and a

quavering of tone, so he waits a moment--"the wondrous _glory-presence of

Jesus_ that came with it."



And so out of the experience came a double blessing. There was a much

fuller working of God's plan for His poor befooled world. And there was an

unspeakable nearness of intimacy with his Lord for Paul. _The man was

answered and the petition denied that the larger plan of service might be

carried out_.







Shaping a Prayer on the Anvil of the Knees.





The last of these pictures is like Raphael's Sistine Madonna in the

Dresden gallery; it is in a room by itself. One enters with a holy hush

over his spirit, and, with awe in his eyes, looks at _Jesus in

Gethsemane_. There is the Kidron brook, the gentle rise of ground, the

grove of gnarled knotty old olive trees. The moon above is at the full.

Its brightness makes these shadowed recesses the darker; blackly dark.

Here is a group of men lying on the ground apparently asleep. Over yonder

deeper in among the trees a smaller group reclines motionless. They, too,

sleep. And, look, farther in yet is that lone figure; all alone; nevermore

alone; save once--on the morrow.



There is a foreshadowing of this Gethsemane experience in the requested

interview of the Greeks just a few intense days before. In the vision

which the Greeks unconsciously brought the agony of the olive grove began.

The climax is among these moon-shadowed trees. How sympathetic those inky

black shadows! It takes bright light to make black shadows. Yet they were

not black enough. Intense men can get so absorbed in the shadows as to

forget the light.



This great Jesus! Son of God: God the Son. The Son of Man: God--a man! No

draughtsman's pencil ever drew the line between His divinity and humanity;

nor ever shall. For the union of divine and human is itself divine, and

therefore clear beyond human ken. Here His humanity stands out,

pathetically, luminously stands out. Let us speak of it very softly and

think with the touch of awe deepening for this is holiest ground. The

battle of the morrow is being fought out here. Calvary is in Gethsemane.

The victory of the hill is won in the grove.



It is sheer impossible for man with sin grained into his fibre through

centuries to understand the horror with which a sinless one thinks of

actual contact with sin. As Jesus enters the grove that night it comes in

upon His spirit with terrific intensity that He is actually coming into

contact--with a meaning quite beyond us--coming into contact with sin. In

some way all too deep for definition He is to be "made sin."[23] The

language used to describe His emotions is so strong that no adequate

English words seem available for its full expression. An indescribable

horror, a chill of terror, a frenzy of fright seizes Him. The poisonous

miasma of sin seems to be filling His nostrils and to be stifling Him. And

yonder alone among the trees the agony is upon Him. The extreme grips Him.

May there not yet possibly be some other way rather than _this--this!_ A

bit of that prayer comes to us in tones strangely altered by deepest

emotion. "_If it be possible--let this cup pass_." There is still a

clinging to a possibility, some possibility other than that of this

nightmare vision. The writer of the Hebrews lets in light here. The strain

of spirit almost snaps the life-thread. And a parenthetical prayer for

strength goes up. And the angels come with sympathetic strengthening. With

what awe must they have ministered! Even after that some of the red life

slips out there under the trees. By and by a calmer mood asserts itself,

and out of the darkness a second petition comes. It tells of the tide's

turning, and the victory full and complete. _A changed, petition_ this!

"_Since this cup may not pass_--since only thus _can_ Thy great plan for a

world be wrought out--_Thy--will_"--slowly but very distinctly the words

come--"_Thy--will--be--done._"



_The changed prayer was wrought out upon His knees!_ With greatest

reverence, and a hush in our voices, let us say that there alone with the

Father came the clearer understanding of the Father's actual will under

these circumstances.



"Into the woods my Master went

Clean forspent, forspent;

Into the woods my Master came

Forspent with love and shame.

But the olives they were not blind to Him,

The little gray leaves were kind to Him;

The thorn-tree had a mind to Him

When into the woods He came.



"Out of the woods my Master went

And He was well content;

Out of the woods my Master came

Content with death and shame.

When death and shame would woo Him last

From under the trees they drew Him last

'Twas on a tree they slew Him--last

When out of the woods He came."[24]



True prayer is wrought out upon the knees alone with God. With deepest

reverence, and in awed tones, let it be said, that _that was true of

Jesus_ in the days of His humanity. How infinitely more of us!



Shall we not plan to meet God alone, habitually, with the door shut, and

the Book open, and the will pliant so we may be trained for this holy

partnership of prayer. Then will come the clearer vision, the broader

purpose, the truer wisdom, the real unselfishness, the simplicity of

claiming and expecting, the delights of fellowship in service with Him;

then too will come great victories for God in His world. Although we

shall not begin to know by direct knowledge a tithe of the story until the

night be gone and the dawning break and the ink-black shadows that now

stain the earth shall be chased away by the brightness of His presence.