He had a right to say such a thing, for he not only believed, but he was conscious that G.o.d was with him, his Companion wherever he went. This being the case, prayer became for him the simplest and most natural thing in the world. G.o.d was by his side; then why should not he talk to G.o.d, by e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n as well as by more formal utterance? Yet his talks with G.o.d never became formal. They were always intimate and confidential--like the approaches of Princ.i.p.al John Cairns, the famous Scotch minister. His biographer tells of a time when he was at the manse of a country minister in whose church he was to preach next day. The minister's wife withdrew to get a cup of tea for the old man, leaving her little boy there. By and by she heard a strange, unaccustomed sound, as it seemed to her under such conditions. And as she listened and looked, she saw that the old man was kneeling with the boy. It had seemed to him the most natural thing in the world to speak to his Great Friend about his little friend.

Dr. Arthur Smith was like that with G.o.d, and his son Henry took after him. One January day in 1905 the father reached New York from China and sought his son. They went to a hotel room to bridge the time of absence by "a tremendous lot of back conversation," as the son wrote to the mother. But before they had any chance to talk of other matters the father said, "Come, boy, let's have a prayer." "Wasn't that just like him?" Henry asked his mother.

A minister who was spending his vacation in the northern woods was called in to see a dying lumberman. Before leaving the visitor prayed with the sick man, and suggested that he pray for himself. The objection was made that it was useless to pray--G.o.d understood a man's trials, and He knew what was wanted before a request was made. The minister asked him if he didn't know what his children needed before they asked him, if he didn't know they were disappointed or troubled; yet didn't he wish to have them talk over these things with him?

The man thought a moment. Then he said, "Do you think that would be prayer--just for me to lie here and tell G.o.d what He knows already--how it hurts, and all my disappointment, and my anxiety for the future of my children and my wife--and everything--just to tell Him?"

"I think it would," said the minister. "I think it would be prayer of a very real kind."

One who had learned that prayer is not a mere formal exercise, to be dreaded and postponed, has said:

"Pray often--in bits, with a persistency of habit that betrays a childlike eagerness and absorption. Rise up to question G.o.d as children do their earthly parents--at morning, noon and night and between times.

Ask Him about everything. Be with Him more than with all other persons.

Acquire the home habit with Him. Be a child in His hands. Do not fear lest He be too busy to listen, or too grown up to care or to understand.

Just talk to Him, in broken sentences, half-formed with crude wishes; in foolish chatter, if need be. Make the Heavenly Father the center of your life, the source and judge of all your satisfactions. Be sure to let Him put you to bed, waken you in the morning, wait on you at table, order your day's doings, protect you from harm, soothe your disquiet, supply all your daily needs."

Such a prayer is good, not only when one is sick, but when one is well and busy with the affairs of daily life. A clergyman has told of a visit to London during which he called on a merchant whom he had met in America. At the business house he was told that he could not see the merchant, as it was steamer day, and orders had been given not to disturb him. But when the card was taken up, the merchant appeared, his face beaming with pleasure. After a moment's greeting the visitor offered to go away, but the merchant took him into his office, and said:

"I am very glad you have called. I would not have had you fail. I am very busy, but I always have a moment for my Lord. I have a little place for private prayer. You must come in with me, and we shall have a season of prayer together."

Busy, but not too busy for prayer, longing to see his friend, but eager to spend the ten minutes of the call in prayer with that other Friend who made the brief visit worth while!

In telling this incident, one writer on the subject of prayer has said:

"Several, perhaps many merchants in one of our large cities have fitted up for themselves dark, narrow, boxlike closets, whither, each by himself, they are wont to retire for a few minutes at times, during the pressure of the day's business, for the refreshment of soul, which they find they really need in communion with G.o.d. One of these men is reported to have said: 'On some days, if I had not that resort, I believe I should go mad, so great is the pressure.'"

Dr. Purves once told an incident of the distinguished scientist, Professor Joseph Henry, as given him by one of Dr. Henry's students. "I well remember the wonderful care with which he arranged all his princ.i.p.al experiments. Then often, when the testing moment came, that holy as well as great philosopher would raise his hand in adoring reverence and call upon me to uncover my head and worship in silence, 'because,' he said, 'G.o.d is here. I am about to ask G.o.d a question.'"

To Mary Slessor of Calabar, whom the Africans learned to love devotedly, prayer was as simple and easy as talking to a friend in the room. "Her religion was a religion of the heart," her biographer says. "Her communion with her Father was of the most natural, most childlike character. No rule or habit guided her. She just spoke to Him as a child to its father when she needed help and strength, or when her heart was filled with joy and grat.i.tude, at any time, in any place. He was so real to her, so near, that her words were almost of the nature of conversation. There was no formality, no self-consciousness, no stereotyped diction, only the simplest language from a quiet and humble heart. It is told of her that once, when she was in Scotland, after a tiresome journey, she sat down at the tea table alone, and, lifting up her eyes, said, 'Thank you, Father--ye ken I'm tired,' in the most ordinary way as if she had been addressing her friend. On another occasion in the country, she lost her spectacles while coming from a meeting in the dark. She could not do without them, and she prayed simply and directly, 'O Father, give me back my spectacles!' A lady asked her how she obtained such intimacy with G.o.d. 'Ah, woman,' she said, 'when I am out there in the bush, I have often no other one to speak to but my Father, and I just talk to Him....'"

"I just talk to Him!" There is the secret of getting and keeping close to the Father, the most worth-while Companion we can possibly have with us on country walk, on vacation excursion, amid business perplexities, in the desert or in the thronged city street, when the days are crowded with burdens, or when the time of rest after work has come.

Try Him and see if it is not so.

VI

A CHAPTER OF--ACCIDENTS?

A man had planned a three-day trip with care. On paper everything looked promising for a combination of business and pleasure that would make these days stand out in the record of the year.

In the morning he would go to Washington. There he would have opportunity to see in one of the Departments a man whose help in an emergency would prove invaluable. At four in the afternoon he would leave for Cincinnati. By taking the train he would miss a bit of scenery at c.u.mberland, which he had hoped to see. This could not be helped, however, for by the train he would be set down in Cincinnati in good season for the important one-day session of a committee, the primary object of the trip.

To be sure, he would have to miss another important committee meeting at home, unless he should forego the Washington stop. But would it not be worth while to miss one of the meetings when he did not see how he could well arrange for both?

The ticket was bought and reservation was made. Then interruption number one came. Most unexpectedly there was a call from a neighbor to render such a service as can be given but once in a lifetime. Yet that difficult service must be rendered at the moment when, according to program, he would be taking the train for Washington.

Of course there could be no question as to his course. Instead of going to Washington and seeing the man with whom conference would mean so much, he must take train by a route more direct. This would enable him to reach Cincinnati in season for the committee meeting; and it would enable him also to attend the committee meeting at home which he had decided to put aside for the sake of the Washington opportunity.

After serving his neighbor and attending the home meeting--this turned out to be so important that to miss it would have been little short of a calamity--the direct train for Cincinnati was taken, though not without a sigh for the lost opportunity in Washington.

Yet the sigh was forgotten when on that train he became acquainted with three fellow-pa.s.sengers who gave him some new and needed glimpses of life.

A study of time tables showed him that he could return by way of Washington, and could have two hours for the interview there on which he had counted so much, before the hour came for completing the homeward journey.

After a successful committee meeting in Cincinnati, the importance of which proved to be even greater than had been antic.i.p.ated, the train for Washington was taken at the Cincinnati terminal. At the moment this train was due to leave, there drew in on an adjoining track cars from which weary, anxious-looking pa.s.sengers alighted. "What train is that?"

was the question that came to his lips.

"Number two, boss," the porter replied. "Left Washington at four yesterday afternoon. She's ten hours late, 'count of that big wreck down in the mountains."

And that was the train he had planned to take after finishing his business in Washington! If he had taken it, what of his touch with the Cincinnati meeting?

In thankful spirit, and with the resolve renewed for the ten thousandth time that he would cease to question G.o.d's wisdom in thwarting his little plans, he went to his berth. First, however, he included in his evening prayer a pet.i.tion that the train might not be late in reaching Washington, since the time there would be short enough, at best.

Three hours later he roused with the start that is apt to come with the intense silence that marks a long night wait of a train between stations. The delay was so prolonged that soon the time table showed the loss of three hours.

There was one consolation, however: he would be able to pa.s.s during hours of daylight through the incomparable mountains of West Virginia.

The unexpected blessing was forgotten when the train drew into the Washington station so near the close of the afternoon that the traveler thought he might as well go home at once. Later on, he might be able to make a special trip to the Capital. "And I might have finished my program without all that expense and trouble," he thought.

But while he was there he decided he would call on the telephone the man in the department whom he wished to see. He told the man of his late train and his disappointment.

"Perhaps it is just as well," was the word from the other end of the wire. "I have been afraid that the time set aside for our work this afternoon was altogether too short. What do you say to coming to me the first thing in the morning? Then we can devote to our program all the time that proves necessary."

So he remained overnight. The evening gave him the chance he had sought for a year to spend an evening consulting authorities at the Congressional Library. Next morning the real business of the stopover was attended to. Then he learned why it would have been impossible to receive the afternoon before the attention he received during the morning hours. He knew, too, that it would have been out of the question to seek a second interview on the same business; therefore he would have had to rest content with the results of the first conference.

The time came to take the train for the final stage of the journey. On that train his seat-mate, a man he had never seen before, perhaps never would see again, gave him a number of bits of vital information on the very business that had led him to Washington!

Is it worth while to ask G.o.d to look out for the everyday needs of His people?

CHAPTER EIGHT

_G.o.d THE SOURCE OF COURAGE_

"BE strong and of a good courage!" More than three thousand years ago the inspiring words were spoken by a great military leader to men about to undertake a tremendous task. Some of them were dismayed. The difficulties in the path appeared insurmountable. Their minds were filled with worries and fears and anxieties, until the present was heavy with doubt and the future loomed before them dread, angry, portentous.

Their hearts were like water, until Joshua, the leader, with great confidence gave his message:

"Be strong and of a good courage-- "Only be strong and very courageous-- "Have not I commanded thee?

"Be strong and of a good courage.

"For Jehovah thy G.o.d is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

I

THAT'S FOR ME!