One night, a rare clear moonlight night, we kneel in the window; every one
else is asleep, but we kneel reading by the moonlight. It is a chapter in
the prophets, telling how the chosen people of God shall be carried on the
Gentiles' shoulders. Surely the devil might leave us alone; there is not
much to handle for him there. But presently he comes.
"Is it right there should be a chosen people? To Him, who is father to
all, should not all be dear?"
How can we answer him? We were feeling so good till he came. We put our
head down on the Bible and blister it with tears. Then we fold our hands
over our head and pray, till our teeth grind together. Oh, that from that
spirit-world, so real and yet so silent, that surrounds us, one word would
come to guide us! We are left alone with this devil; and God does not
whisper to us. Suddenly we seize the Bible, turning it round and round,
and say hurriedly:
"It will be God's voice speaking to us; His voice as though we heard it."
We yearn for a token from the inexorably Silent One.
We turn the book, put our finger down on a page, and bend to read by the
moonlight. It is God's answer. We tremble.
"Then fourteen years after I went up again to Jerusalem with Barnabas, and
took Titus with me also."
For an instant our imagination seizes it; we are twisting, twirling, trying
to make an allegory.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172