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glory, that He would let us, somehow, get the five hundred dollars. We agreed not to ask a soul for a cent of the money. God Gave us the Money. Friday, before the option was to close on Monday, I was arranging to go off for an address. I was to go about noon, and just as I was getting ready to leave my house, a strange woman came up to me; I knew 'I had seen her face, but she had never been introduced to me; and she said: “Excuse me, I am in a great hurry; I have got to catch this noon train; I have just a few minutes. I have been much in prayer about the matter. God has let me come into possession of a little money, not much, and He knows I want to give it where it will do the most good; and somehow, after praying I have felt led to come to you and ask you to take this money and use it in any way that you may see fit.” I took the envelope out of her hand, thinking perhaps that it contained about five dol lars. I bade her good-bye. When she was gone I found that it was a check for two hundred and fifty dollars. I told the brethren who were praying with me about it, and we agreed to continue in prayer, ask ing God about the rest of it. And I want to say to you that those were the sweetest days of prayer and trust that I ever experienced. Monday morn ing, I got a note requesting me to call at a hotel in the city to see a party who was going for a long journey. I went, thinking ,of course, that I was to say good-bye, and it was; but just before I left she said: “I have had given to me a little money; it was given to me to spend for pleasure, but I feel that I want to give it to you to spend for your work. That will give me more pleasure than anything else.” I took the envelope and opened it, and it was a New York draft for two hundred and fifty dollars. There was the five hundred dollars, and it was two hours before the option expired. I went right down to the telegraph office and tele graphed the party that the deal was closed, and the money was in the bank. Brethren there are just scores and scores of ex periences like that, that are treasured up in my heart that have occurred in the history of our work. Yes, let me say it humbly—in the marvelous his tory of our Tabernacle work and its different branches. Thank God I don’t have to go to any teacher to learn whether or not God hears prayer. I know it myself. I have tried it ever since I was a boy. I have not begun to try it since I was a preacher, and since I have been a pastor in At lanta. I tried it long before I ever thought of preaching. I know that it is true. Conditions Must Be Met. But there is one sad note that I am bound to sound with reference to it. You will observe that I have not been referring to but half of the text— the first part of it I have not dealt with; and the first part of it, to us, is more significant than the last. The promise is just like every other promise, it is conditional, and the condition of a promise is the thing, after all, that we should be most con cerned about. What is the condition? It is very simple, “pay thy vows unto the Lord and call upon me in the day of trouble and I will deliver thee.” “Pay thy vows! ’ ’ The reason why we do not get out of our praying more than we do, is not because God has changed, nor is it because he is not willing to hear us every time we pray; it is because we are not in right re lation with him. “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” It is the righ teous man! Righteousness means right relation. And when a man has an unpaid vow to God, he has a closed wall between him and God. What kind of vows effect us in our calling upon God? Why, any vow that has to do with God. For example; supreme love to God. Every child of God has professed supreme love to God. Now if there is anything else that comes between you and God, then your vow is not paid; if you love any thing else in the world better than you love God; The Golden Age for July 19, 1906. if you are putting anything else before you and God, then you have no right to call upon God in trouble. Take another vow; separation from the world. Certainly, we have made this vow. We have made it in our baptism if in no other way—“buried with Christ in baptism, that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” There is the line of separation drawn—we pro fessed it in the act of baptism: Have we main tained that vow? Are we living up to it to-day? Or have we become like other men and like other women? If so, then, we have no right to expect God “in the day of trouble,” any more than the world, which is entirely shut out. Take one more: The vow that we made to our church. When a man makes a vow to his church,, he makes a vow unto God. God is jealous for his church; she is his bride. And, when we make a de liberate vow to the church, we make it to God; and, so long as that vow to the church is unpaid, provid ed it can be paid, the door is locked for help in the day of trouble. How Light Came. A minister, a friend of mine, in conversation with me in reference to this very matter, said, “Some time ago, I was in great distress. I prayed God day and night for deliverance, but no deliverance came. On and on I went, praying, but no deliver ance came; darker and darker the way became, and no light was to be seen. Finally I changed the character of my prayer, and said, Lord, inasmuch as you do not reveal to me the way of deliverance, I would that thou wouldst reveal to me what is the matter.” And he said, almost instantly, God put his finger on something in his life that ho was utter ly astonished to have him touch. It looked to him that there were thousands of things in his life that he could touch that had more importance attached to them than that, but there it was—God touched him at that place. What do you think it was? A year and a half before, he made a pledge to his church for foreign missions, and had not paid it. He could have paid it; but he had persuaded him self to believe that he could not. He had made a vow to his church, and had not paid it, and in that awful day of struggle when he had to have help or die, that thing was standing be tween him and God. Oh, it is an awful thing for a man to make a vow to God, and then not keep it. “Pay thy vows unto the most high, and call upon me in the day of trou ble and I will deliver thee.” Cultivate Happiness. We ought to he happy, we can be just as good— usually fifty times better—if we are happy than if we are melancholy. A long face is not synony mous with piety. Happiness is our birthright, not gloom, not rigorous discomfort, but joy and sun shine. One of the best recipes for the production of happiness is a contented mind, and as a con tented mind is a mind that owns something to make it contented, it behooves all of us to brighten our existence as much as possible. The way in which a certain woman of my acquaintance accomplished her own happiness is as simple as it is advisable. She had (for no particular reason) been in the habit of wearing nothing but black. Black she discarded, substituting for it pretty and becoming colors. Then she had denied herself new books, saying that she could not afford it. But she found this was mis taken economy; a new book once in a while and a bright magazine taken regularly cost very little and brighten life immensely. Moreover, she insti tuted little cozy, comfortable teas for her friends, and for herself wrote out and practiced the pre scription, “A good laugh to be indulged in three times a day.” She kept in her mind a stock of funny incidents and jokes to make her laugh, and three times a day, instead of drinking down a tonic, administered unto herself a hearty laugh. That women was her own best frend.—Ex. CHRISTI A PATRIOTISM. By GEN. CLEMENT A. EVANS, Jefferson Davis. What are earth’s fears to him? Earth’s smiles and tears to him? Hands on his breast; After life’s toils and snares, Life’s heavy weight of cares, He is at rest. What tho’ loud praise to him, True hearts may raise to him, He heareth not. Deep in the silent tomb, Earth’s bitter loss and gloom, He has forgot. Sweet tho’ the offering, Fond, loyal hearts may bring Now to his shrine; Yet in the after days, Brighter fame’s brilliant rays Shall for him shine. Ne’er in the coming age, Will be on history’s page, Record more fair Than he has left to us, Whose heart bereft for us, Broke in despair. All of life’s dreariness, Heartache and weariness, For him are past. He who the lilies keep, Will, from his dreamless sleep, Wake him at last. Tampa, Fla., S. Burton Lucas. The Lord’s Prayer. (The following beautiful composition was found on the battlefield at Charles ton, South Carolina, during the war. It was written by a wounded comrade who never lived to get home. It is quite a literary curiosity.) Thou to the mercy seat our souls must gather, To do our duty unto Thee—Our Father To whom all praise, all honor should be given; For Thou art the great God—Who art in Heaven 1 hou, by Thy wisdom, nil ’st the world’s whole fame Forever, therefore—Hallowed be Thy name: Let never more delay divide us from Ihy glorious face, but let—Thy Kingdom come; Let Thy commands opposed be by none, But Thy good pleasure and—Thy will be done And let our promptness to obey be even The very same—ln earth as ’tis in Heaven. Then for our souls, 0 Lord, we also pray, Thou would’st be pleased to—Give us this day The food of life wherewith our souls are fed, Sufficient raiment and—Our daily bread; With each needful thing do Thou relieve us, And of Thy mercy pity and—forgive us All our misdeeds for Him whom Thou did’st please To make an offering for—Our trespasses And forasmuch, 0 Lord, as we believe That Thou wilt pardon us—As we forgive Let love teach, wherewith Thou acquaintest us To pardon—Those who trespass against us, And though, sometimes, Thou find’st we’ve forgot This love for Thee, yet help—'and lead us not Through soul or body’s want to desperation, Nor let earth’s gain drive us—into temptation; Let not the soul of any true believer Fall in the time of trial—but deliver, Yea, save them from the malice of the devil, And, both in life and death—keep us from evil: Thus we pray, Lord, for that of Thee, from whom. This may be had—For thine is the Kingdom This world is Thy works, and its wondrous story To Thee belongs—The Power and the Glory, And all Thy wondrous works have ended never, But remain, forever and—Forever; Thus we poor creatures would confess again, And thus would say eternally,—Amen. 5