The Wonders of Prayer by Various

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Q.--"Oh, pshaw! You know I do not believe in that kind of thing! Do you
go to the Bible for everything?"

H.--"Why not? Can we have any better guide?"

Q.--"Oh! well, I don't work that way. Now about that man and his money.
I will toss up a penny with you, whether I lend or not."

H.--"No you won't! You know I don't believe in chance, but in the Lord.
And would you sooner rest your decision on a gambler's test, than on
God's promise? Now just let us open the book."

Q.--"Well; what do you see?"

H.--"'The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again; but the righteous
sheweth mercy, and lendeth.'" 37th Psalm, 21st verse.

As there was no hunting up of passages, nor leaves turned down to open
easily, the coincidence was impressive, as well as amusing, and H.,
following it up, said, "Lend him the money, and if he does not pay you
next Saturday night, I will."

It was so agreed upon, and, when the man called on the missionary on
Monday morning, he was sent to Q. for the relief.

The week passed on, as they all pass, weighted and freighted with human
ills; some capable of alleviation, some not; but of the former, a full
share had come under the notice and care of the missionary, and Saturday
found him stepping into the Fulton street prayer-meeting, N.Y., for
fresh encouragement and benediction on his labors.

At its close, a gentleman said to him, "Mr. H., I have known you by
sight for years; know your work; but have never given you anything; and
I promised myself the next time I saw you, I would do so. Have you any
special need of five dollars now? If so, and you will step to the bank
with me, you shall have it." Instantly it flashed through the mind of H.
that this was the day when, either the borrower or he, must pay his
friend. It may be supposed that he went to the bank with alacrity. Going
back to B. and meeting the friend, he learned that neither man nor money
had appeared, and at once tendered the five dollars, telling the story
of the Lord's care in the matter.

Q. was so interested in this manner of obtaining supplies, that he
refused to take the money, and instructed H. to use it in the Lord's
work.

PRAYING FOR MONEY FOR A JOURNEY.

A lady, Miss E., residing in New Bedford, received a letter telling of
the serious illness of her mother, in New York. Sick herself, from
unremitted care of an invalid during eight years, poor as Elijah when
his only grocers were the ravens, too old for new ambitions, too well
acquainted with the gray mists of life to hope for many rifts through
which the sunshine might enter, she had no sum of money at all
approaching the cost of the trip between the two places.

"He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou
trust," is a text bound over her daily life, as a phylactery was bound
between the eyes of an ancient Hebrew. She lives literally, _only one
day at a time_, and walks literally by faith and not by sight. So then
as ever, the Lord was her committee of ways and means; but for three
days the answer was delayed. Then, an old lady called to express her
indebtedness for Miss E.'s services three years before, and ask her
acceptance of ten dollars therefor, "no sort of equivalent for days and
days of writing and searching law papers, but only a little token that
the service was not forgotten."

There was the answer to her prayer; there the redemption of the pledge:
"As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about
his people from henceforth, even forever."

EMPLOYMENT FOUND.

A man and wife were out of employment, and in very great trouble. Mr. H.
(missionary) had added his efforts to theirs, and sedulously sought
among the families he knew, for positions for them. After two weeks'
fruitless endeavor, he said to the man, "Well, John, let us go into the
Fulton street meeting and leave it with the Lord." They did so; the
request was read and remembered.

The very next day, Mr. H. received a note from one of the families to
whom he had already applied, and without success, requesting him to send
the man and wife of whom he had spoken. Very joyfully he did so, and
they were both engaged! Mr. H. considered it a very marked answer to
prayer, inasmuch as it was quite difficult to find a family who wanted a
man as well as woman servant; and that particular family was, of all
others, the least likely to make such an arrangement!

A BARREL OF FLOUR.

For the "Faith Home for Incurables" Mr. H. received, one day, five
dollars. A barrel of flour was terribly needed. He went to a large house
in New York, hoping the Lord would incline the proprietor to sell him a
barrel for that sum. He felt too poor, was not willing; and with a heavy
heart, Mr. H. returned, asking the Lord what next he should do. He
called at the store of a friend, where the following conversation took
place. "Well, did you get the flour?" "I did not; they feel too poor,
and I am terribly disappointed. It is almost dark now; I have lost my
time going over there, and at this hour, the flour merchants here are
closed." "Well, Mr. ---- called here, and I told him you were in, and on
what errand you had gone to New York. He said he would send a barrel to
my store if I would send it up to the Home; and I did so, about an hour
ago."

WONDERFUL WAYS OF THE LORD IN GUIDING HIS PEOPLE.

Our missionaries move amidst the reality of scenes which religious
fiction vainly strives to equal. Remarkable proofs of genuine and vivid
piety, triumphs of patience and grace, lifting their possessors above
the most painful and distressing circumstances, are met with in all
their explorations, and more than repay them for toil or privation.

WONDERFUL CONVERSION OF A ROMAN CATHOLIC.

A frame dwelling in an alley, two rooms on the first floor, in the
smaller one a bed-ridden old colored man, who had fought the battle of
life for ninety years, fifteen of them on his bed, with eyes so dimmed
by age that he could not even read; and a wife who was eye, ear and
solace to him, are the salient points of our first picture.

They were both earnest, exultant Christians, around whom the angels of
God encamped day and night. The wife was brought up in the West Indies,
as a Catholic, but her ideas of religion consisted mostly in counting
beads on a rosary. After coming to Brooklyn, she became a servant in the
family of a well-known naval officer, and was always a favorite on
account of her vivacity. One day, a young painter who was working there,
and proved to be one of the Christians whose light shines for all in the
house, spoke to her, and invited her to a prayer-meeting in a Protestant
chapel. She refused, laughing; but the painter's assurance next day,
that she had been prayed for in that meeting, made her restless, uneasy
and sick. In a few days, she was confined to her bed and pronounced by
some doctors, a victim to consumption. One, more sagacious than the
rest, said her trouble was of the mind, not the body, and a minister
would be better than a doctor.

It proved to be the case; she was soon led into a glimmering hope,
though feeling that she literally carried a burden on her back. Starting
out, one night, to look for a place of worship, she turned her feet to a
Methodist meeting from whence the sound of singing had reached her. In
the prayer and exhortation, however, there were words which revealed to
her the secret of faith and salvation. She felt the burden loosen and
fall from her shoulders, so sensibly, that involuntarily, she turned and
looked for it on the floor. In a few moments she began to realize the
freedom she had gained, and started to her feet in joy and wonder.

Her work then began in her own home, and through her prayers of faith,
five members of the Commodore's own family and an Irish Catholic servant
girl, were brought to "Christ, the living way." For years her faith was
proved by her works; her daily example in the household, her watchings
and waitings by the bedside of her helpless husband--poverty, sickness,
perplexities of every sort, but made her hope the brighter, her hold the
firmer. With no dependence for their daily bread but the benefactions of
one and another person, sometimes entire strangers, they never knew what
it was to suffer actual want, nor did Frances ever believe that her
friend would forget her.

REMARKABLE PRESERVATION OF LIFE FROM LIGHTNING IN ANSWER TO PRAYER.

I was riding on top of the Boulder Pass of the Rocky Mountains, in the
summer of 1876, when a sudden storm of rain, wind, and furious tempest
came up. There was no shelter from rocks, no trees or buildings to be
seen--a lonely, wind-swept summit. I knew that the lightning on those
high elevations was fearful in intensity. I was appalled at the prospect
before me, but feeling that God had promised to care for his children--
"No evil shall befall thee or come nigh thy dwelling"--I composed
myself, and though on horseback, with the rain beating in torrents, I
offered simple prayer to God that he would save me from the rain and
stop it. But _No_, it came harder than ever; then I prayed that I might
be protected from all danger, "_for I trusted in Him_!"

I rode on and on for miles, chilly, cold, wet through, the clouds
hanging low and the lightning flashing above me, around me, striking
near me, constant flashes, peals of thunder; but I was not terrified.
"God must keep me." _Twice I was distinctly struck_ with the electric
flash, detached portions or sparks from the electric cloud, directly in
the center of the forehead, but it had no more force than just to close
my eyes, shake my head a little, obscure my sight a moment, and then it
was all over, and I was clearer, cooler, calmer, happier, and more
self-possessed than ever before. I attribute my protection from peril
entirely to prayer, and the fierceness of the tempest and the proximity
of danger were permitted by the Lord to try my trust. Those portions
which struck me, if in ordinary times had been given me from an electric
battery in a school-room, a shock with sparks only one-hundredth the
size, would have killed me.

I can thus say with thanks, faith was then made perfect in danger, and
the Lord _was faithful_ in hearing his child's cry, and delivered him.

GOD NEVER FAILED HER.

An aged colored woman, lived that life of faith which shines brighter
and brighter unto the perfect day. Born a slave, on Long Island, she was
never taught to read, never enjoyed any social privileges; but the God
of the widow of Sarepta, who had neither "store-house nor barn," was her
God, and brought her out of the house of spiritual bondage.

She outlived all her early associations; all her children and
grandchildren, husband and brother passed on before, leaving her alone
in poverty and sickness. Yet she sat in her little hut, a cheerful,
happy Christian; a living witness for God as a covenant-keeper.
Doubting, despondent souls were always glad to visit her, to listen to
her simple words of wisdom and gather strength from her invincible
trust. Roman Catholic neighbors persecuted and even threatened her; but
in reply to a missionary who remarked that it must be very trying and
somewhat dangerous, she said, "Don't you know the Lord has a hook in the
jaws of the wicked, so they shan't hurt us if we belong to him? Jesus is
always with me; so I'm never alone and never afraid."

HIS MOTHER'S PRAYER.

A poor sailor, leading a most profligate and abandoned life, whose
praying mother followed him like a shadow into and out of his drinking
saloons and gambling houses, at last absented himself from home,
whenever he was in port. Her burden, finally, seemed too great to bear,
and she resolved to make a stronger effort than ever before, to cast it
upon the Lord. As she knelt, with her heart well-nigh bursting with this
desire, she felt a powerful conviction that, at last, she was answered.
For several years the son went on in his wicked career, and the mother
sorrowed that it was so, but her soul was no longer laden with fear; she
felt the assurance of his conversion, sooner or later. Again, for
several years, she never heard of him, and thought him dead; then she
ceased praying for him, and was steadfast in the faith of meeting him in
heaven. But sight was to be given her, as a reward for faith. He
returned, at last, only thirty years of age, but broken down in health,
and worn out by dissipation and hardship. Still unconverted, but, to
satisfy his mother, he consented to remain in the room during a visit of
the missionary of that district; a man with sufficient tact not to make
his efforts obnoxious. He did not tell the young man he was a sinner and
must flee from the wrath to come; he merely presented the _love_ of
Jesus; the love that saved to the very _uttermost_; that waited more
patiently than any earthly friend, and forgave more royally. At first,
he listened indifferently, but, at last, burst into tears, saying, "I
thought I was so bad He didn't want anything to do with me." A long
conversation, and others at intervals followed, and, before his death,
which occurred several months after, his mother's heart was gladdened by
the account of his change, and the knowledge that, in farthest lands,
his thoughts were back with her. The deeper he went in sin, the more
unsatisfactory and abhorrent it became, and he would have turned, long
before, to the Lord, had he believed there was the least hope for him.
When he closed his eyes to earth, a few friends enabled his mother to
give him respectable burial, in the same grave where, years before, his
father was laid.

THE HEART OF STONE RELENTS.

Another consumptive in the neighborhood, was thoroughly an infidel. Mr.
A. visited the house three times a week, and, at last, succeeded in
overcoming his objections to a weekly prayer-meeting in his house. In
his hearing, earnest supplication was always made for him, and, at the
end of four months, the heart of stone relented. He had not, at first,
the courage to appropriate the promises to himself; but one morning very
early he sent for the missionary to reveal the news that he felt all his
sins forgiven, and had "Christ _in_ him, the hope of glory." four months
more he lived to hear witness continually to God's amazing mercy, and
then joyfully expired, declaring himself saved by grace alone.

A DISCOURAGED ONE REVIVED.

Mr. C----, walking home one Saturday afternoon, fell into a discouraged
train of thought because he appeared to have done so little for the
Master that whole week. At that moment a young man took him by the hand
saying--"You do not know me, but I know you. A few weeks ago I was on
the high road to destruction, but now through your instrumentality I am
in the narrow path which leads to everlasting life. I attended your
prayer-meeting one evening in company with a friend of mine. You spoke
with great earnestness, and after we sang the last hymn you remarked,
'How can I bless whom God has cursed? For he declares, If any man love
not the Lord, he shall be accursed.' I cannot describe my sensations.
For several days I could find no peace, but when at last my faith rested
on Jesus, I found that peace which flows like a river; and now, like
Moses, I have chosen rather to suffer affliction with the children of
God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin, for I know if I have to face any
trouble on account of my religion, I can look forward to a glorious
reward."

THE PRISONER LOOSED.

On the third floor of a tenement house, a missionary, Mr. B., found a
comely, intelligent young English woman in great distress. Her heart
seemed wrung by grief. A few kind words of sympathy drew from her the
story of her woe. She came to this country with her husband and three
young children. He was employed as book-keeper in a large mercantile
house; but soon became addicted to drink, and the story is ever the
same; loss of position, poverty, disgrace, suffering and recklessness.
On the day of the missionary's visit, he was in a prison cell, committed
as a vagrant and common drunkard. The wife was bitterly weeping in her
cheerless home, and the children around her fretting with hunger. Mr. B.
was so touched he could scarcely find words with which to console her,
but turned to Isaiah and read, "For thy maker is thy husband; the Lord
of Hosts is his name." "For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but
with great mercies will I gather thee." After his prayer, she felt
calmer, and entreated him to come the next week, on the day her husband
would be released. He complied; found a prepossessing and cultivated
man; and upon telling him how earnestly his wife and himself had prayed
for him, was rejoiced to learn that in that lonesome cell the Spirit of
God had visited him, filled him with a sincere wish to reform the future
and redeem the past. The missionary called again and again, and
witnessed the strong determination of the young man to fight against his
pernicious habit. He was soon employed again in a large house, became a
regular attendant at the Lord's house, and began to pray both publicly
and privately for help from on high. Only a few months, and both husband
and wife united with a church and became teachers in the Sabbath school.
Their own home, once laid waste, again blossomed like the rose.

PRAYING FOR TEA.

On a top floor in a street of tenements lives a colored woman one
hundred and ten years old! Her son, a man over seventy, lost his wife, a
neat, active Christian woman, very suddenly, and his aged mother was
plunged in despairing grief. "Why, why was I left, old and rheumatic and
useless, and Mary, a smart, busy, capable woman taken away without a
minute's warning?" was her continual cry. But the son was left desolate,
and the two rooms were to be kept clean, the meals provided before he
left for his work in the morning, and after his work at night; there was
no one else to do it, and love for him called out new effort. With cane
in one hand she treads the rooms back and forth, performing the
household duties. Eyes undimmed, faculties unimpaired, she _does what
she can_. Upon receiving a call a few months after the death of her
daughter-in-law, she said--"You've brought me a whole pound of that nice
tea! Well, honey, _I asked the Lord for some good tea last night, and I
knowed well enough it would be along some time to-day, cos He never
keeps me waiting long_. I found out why he took Mary instead of me; old
as I was, I wasn't half so fit to go, and he was so full of mercy he let
me stay long enough to see it! You know, honey, I've got no one to talk
over old times with. There ain't none of 'em left that I was young with,
and not many I was old with; but I'm never lonesome, for I'm too busy
thinking of all the Lord's watching and waiting for me. I'm dreadful
little use, but my son couldn't get along very well without me, and then
I tell you I'm so busy thinking, I ain't got any time to be lazy or
lonesome. Good many little things we want, too, and I have to be runnin'
to the Lord for 'em."

"Do they come every time, auntie?", "Every single time, honey! He never
fails, no matter who else does. He knows I don't ask for no nonsense;
only for the things we really need, and he has promised them all the
time." "But, are there not times, auntie, for instance, when your son is
sick, when you cannot see where rent and food is coming from?" "Don't
want to see, honey! What's the use seein'? Believin's the thing!
Believin's better than money." And so, all the revolving months, this
relic of the last century walks by faith in the unseen.

GIVING HER LAST DOLLAR TO THE LORD.

A poor woman, sitting in a little church, heard the minister make an
urgent appeal for money enough to pay a debt of two hundred dollars,
contracted by the church the previous Winter. She had one dollar in her
pocket; half drew it out; thought of the improbability of having any
more for several days; put it back. Thought again, "Trust in the Lord
for more;" drew it wholly out, and deposited it in the basket. The next
morning, a lady called to settle a bill of two dollars, so long unpaid
that it was, long before, set down among the losses.

THE DANISH GIRL'S BLESSING.

A very poor Danish girl, broken down in health, utterly unable longer to
labor for her own support, was provided with the means, and urged to go
to Denmark, as her friend felt sure there was some good in store for her
there, meaning, more definitely, the restoration of her health. She
could not be induced until, thoroughly satisfied by several tokens that
it was the Lord's will, and then she consented.

A devout, humble Christian missionary became acquainted with her soon
after her arrival, and, being struck with the beauty of holiness in
every action and conversation of her life, asked her to marry him, that
he might have the constant satisfaction of rendering her life
comfortable, and finding his own encouragement in her unfailing faith.
His letters are full of his saintly wife, and her signally blessed
efforts in winning people to put their trust where it need fear no
betrayal.

THE SWEDISH GIRL BLESSED.

A Christian Swedish girl, who had, for three years, done the washing of
a certain family, had so interested them by her care of an aged father,
and gained their esteem by her humble piety, that, wishing to go to
Europe for six months, they offered her two rooms in their house for
that time, that she might not only save the labor necessary to pay her
rent, but, also, take charge of their effects. The offer was gladly
accepted, and recognized as a token especially from the Lord.

In times when the father was yet able to work a little, they had
economized to a degree that resulted in saving twenty dollars. It was
laid by for three months' rent, when he should be no longer able to earn
it. That time had come; as yet the money had not been touched; but Satan
sent a wicked woman to hire the next room, and, while the father was
asleep, and his poor daughter at church, she stole it. Their grief was
great, but they reminded the Lord how hardly it was earned, and how
faithful lie had always been to His promises. It can be easily
understood with what emphasis this unexpected offer came to them.

SAVED FROM DROWNING.

A poor German woman rushed frantically through the street and into the
house of a countrywoman, very little better off than herself, declaring
she would drown herself that very night if _no_ one would give her work.
A family on the same floor gave her the use of a very small, bare room
for one week, free of charge; after that, it would be eighty cents per
week rent. Her countrywoman shared with her, such as she had for the
evening and the morning, and after the breakfast, sent for a good,
ever-ready missionary to talk and pray her into a better frame of mind.
He did so, but confirmed and rested her faith on substantial works. He
procured employment for her before the sun set; enough to pay the rent
and get a little common food. Then obtained coal sufficient to last a
couple of months; and so, leading her little by little into light and
hope, drew her into regular attendance at the Mission chapel in her
neighborhood.

THE WIDOW IN "WANT".

A home missionary in Brooklyn, who has an enviable reputation for his
entire consecration to the work of helping the poor, one day when
engaged in his benevolent works, entered a restaurant, kept by a
Christian friend, a man of like spirit with himself, who, in the course
of conversation, related to him the following circumstances,
illustrative of the power of prayer.

He had, on a certain day, cleared a large sum, part of which consisted
of _Mexican dollars_. Returning home in high spirits, he felt as if he
could go to sleep sweetly on this silver pillow. But a thought suddenly
intruded, which gave a new turn to his feelings. It related to a poor
woman in his neighborhood, the widow of a very dear friend of his, whom
he knew to be in want. "Shall I take all this money to myself?" thought
he. "Does not the Providence who gave it to me say, _No! Give some of it
to the widow of your friend_."

With this impression he retired, as was his habit, quite early, but he
could not sleep. The thought of the needy widow haunted him. "I will go
to-morrow," said he to himself, "and see what I can do for her." But
this good intention proved no opiate to his disturbed mind. "Possibly
she or I may not live to see to-morrow." Something seemed to say _go
now_. He tossed from side to side, but could not sleep. _Go now_ kept
ringing in his ear. So at length the restless man had to dress himself
and go.

At this late hour, not far from eleven, he sallied forth to find the
widow. Seeing a dim light in the upper story where she resided, and
following its lead, he crept softly along on the stairway, until he
reached the room from which a low sound issued. The door was slightly
ajar; through which he could hear the voice of prayer, scarcely audible,
but deeply earnest. He dared hardly stir, lest he should disturb the
praying widow. But he came on an errand, and he must accomplish it. But
how? Recollecting at the moment, that he had in his pocket a few of the
_Mexican dollars_, he gently pushed at the door, and it opened just wide
enough for his purpose. So taking each piece of money between his
fingers, he rolled it in along the carpet, and withdrew as noiselessly
as he had ascended. Returning to his home, he fell asleep and slept
soundly, as well he might, after this act.

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