At an early date in our history, 1746, the French fitted out a powerful fleet for the destruction of New England. This fleet consisted of forty ships of war, and seemed to all human judgment a sufficient force to render that destruction certain. It was put under the command of the resolute and experienced Duke d ‘Anville, and set sail on its terrible errand, from Chedabucto, in Nova Scotia.
In the meantime, our pious forefathers, apprised of danger, and feeling that their safety was in God, appointed a season of fasting and prayer, to be observed in all their churches.
While the Mr. Prince was officiating in Old South church (Boston), on this fast-day, and praying most fervently to God to avert the dreaded calamity, the wind suddenly rose (the day had till now been perfectly clear and calm), and became so powerful as to rattle violently all the windows in the building. The man of God, startled for a moment, paused in his prayer, and cast a look round upon the congregation.
He then resumed his supplications, and besought Almighty God to cause that wind to frustrate the object of their enemies, and save the country from conquest and popery. The wind increased to a tempest, and that very night the greater part of the French fleet was wrecked on the coast of Nova Scotia.
The Duke d’Anville, the principal general, and the second in command, both committed suicide. Many died with disease, and thousands were consigned to a watery grave. The small number that remained alive returned to France without health and without spirits. The enterprise was abandoned, and never again resumed. — Present Conflict of Science with Religion.
Miss Carrie C. Webb, who believes that she experienced faith-cure recently, while sojourning at Northport, L.I., has returned to her home, 416 Gold-street, Brooklyn, and many friends and neighbors have called to see her, and hear her remarkable story. She is twenty-three years old, and of slender form. She has been a teacher in the Hanson Place Baptist Church for several years, and her father is a deacon in the Bedford Avenue Baptist Church, whose venerable pastor, the Dr. Hutchings, with many members of his congregation, are firm believers in the efficacy of prayer in removing disease. Two months ago Miss Webb went to spend the summer at her brother’s house, in Northport, and her condition, physically and mentally, was such that her friends never expected to see her come back alive. She has, however, returned, with her mind bright and clear, and her health apparently fully restored.
This is Miss Webb’s explanation of how the change was brought about: “I had been declining in health for nearly seven years, suffering constantly from bronchitis and a severe cough. My mind became affected, and I had strange and uncontrollable fancies, and became morbid and despondent. I was at last attacked with neuralgia, and often prayed that I might die, as I became a burden to my family. One day soon after I arrived at Northport and while I was lying on a lounge in the library, at my brother’s house, my eye lighted on a book on the faith-cure. I read it. That same afternoon my brother asked me if I had ever thought of faith-cure, and told him about the book-incident, adding that I had never thought of it in connection with myself. I said, I did not think I had sufficient faith to receive such a blessing. He told me to think over and pray about the matter; and three days after I went to him and told him I was ready to be anointed. My brother sent for the Presbyterian minister of the village, and when he arrived, we went into the library. The service was very impressive, and I wept all the time it was going on, and when he was pouring oil on my head. I did not feel any better the next day, but rather worse.
“Just one week after the anointing I awoke in unusual pain, and prayed to God to let me die. Then I suddenly thought it would be better for me to pray for health; and I prayed, and cried, for three hours. Finally, when I arose and stood erect, I felt a sensation of health and strength I had not known for seven long years. I realized that I was well again, and that my prayers had been answered. Not only had my pains all vanished, but the cloud also disappeared from my mind. The cure was genuine and complete. I have not had a pain or ache since that morning of prolonged prayer.” – New York Sun.
We have read a touching incident about three little children, who, last autumn, late in the season, wandered alone in a dreary region of New Brunswick. The sun had already sunk in the west, and the gloom of evening was spreading itself over the surrounding country.
The night came on fast; and feeling sure that they could not get home before daybreak, the eldest (a girl of only six years) quietly placed the two little ones in a sheltered nook on the sea-beach; and fearing the cold, chilly night for the younger children, Mary stripped off most of her own clothes to keep them warm.
She then started off to gather dry sea-weed, and whatever else she could find, to cover them with. Having tenderly in this way wrought for some time to make them a nest, she at last fell down exhausted with the cold, and half bare to the cold inclement night.
That evening the loving father and tender mother sat up wondering at their children’s long absence; the hours dragged slowly past with anxious watching, and silent listening for the well-known little pattering feet. In vain the fond parents’ eyes pierced through the darkness. At length they roused the neighbors with their anxious inquiries after their lost ones. All that night was passed in searching and in tears, till early in the morning, lying fast asleep, and same- – -what numbed with cold, were found little Johnny and Lizzie. But, oh I a touching spectacle lay near them; their young savior was stiff, cold and dead on the sea-weed which the poor little child-heroine had not strength to drag into the nook, where those she so deeply loved, and died to save, were sleeping. Thus this little New Brunswick girl died in her successful and self-sacrificing endeavor to save her brother and sister.
Does not this recall the love of the Lord Jesus Christ to you who read? Mary went to the full extent of human love in dying for her little brother and sister. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Yet the Lord Jesus laid down his life for his enemies; for “scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die; but God commendeth His love toward us,” etc. He makes no mistakes. Yet how many listen to this story with more emotion and interest than they do to the story of the cross, where the love of Jesus, the Son of God, is told in letters of blood! – Dawn of the Morning.
In answer to our request, Sister S.E. McKeen, of Lake City, Iowa, has furnished us the following account of a wonderful case of physical healing. Her statement is entirely reliable. We give it in her own words “Last August, I attended a meeting held at Storm Lake, Iowa, for the promotion of holiness, and while there became acquainted with a young minister and wife from Dakota by the name of Cone. Unfortunately for them, they pitched their tent where poison-ivy had grown, and she became sadly poisoned. When I first saw her on Thursday evening, she was suffering from fever, and in great pain.
Her face was swollen, her eye bloodshot, and her whole body was covered with the eruption that follows the ivy-poison. Her stomach also refused to retain food or medicine, and if she raised her head she became faint. “Physicians were consulted, and various remedies tried, but still she found no relief. The tent had been moved, and on Sunday morning, when I called to see her on my way to the tabernacle to morning service, she was no better.
That morning her husband had told me that she wanted them to pray that she might be healed. I went on to the service, but the tent was so crowded, and I was feeling so very tired, that I went to our tent to lie down for rest, and read my Bible. I had lain but a few minutes when her sister-in-law came in, and said that Mrs. Cone wanted me. On asking what was wanted, she said: “She wants you to pray that she may be healed.” To say that I was surprised does not express it; I was amazed, for ‘ faith-cure’ was something I did not know much about, never having given it any serious thought.
I did not understand the work of the Holy Ghost, being myself a new convert to holiness, and having come to this place to be established in the doctrine. “I said: ‘I’ll go. O Jesus, show me what to say to the dear one, and for her to Thee.”
I sat down by her bed a moment, and then asked: ‘Do you believe the prayer of faith will save you?’ She quickly answered: ‘Yes.’ I knelt down beside her, and prayed, and the Holy Spirit took complete possession of me, for I did not know where I was or what I said; but when I arose my soul was so full I could not speak. I left her, still in prayer, without a word.
“I was engaged in one of the small tabernacles, and had so completely given her over to Jesus that the whole thing passed from my mind. It was five o’clock when I returned, and as usual went to see how the sister was; when, I found her sitting outside her door, and dressed for evening service. When she saw me she said “Praise God! I’m healed.’ Glory to Jesus! The Great Physician had been there and she was restored whole.
Her husband had only that morning got permission to leave his tent on the ground, for the Storm Lake physician had said she could not be moved for a week. Hallelujah! How it strengthened my faith, and how strong I felt to do God’s will. I have often felt my weakness since then, but it has been a bright spot to look back to ever since. I am walking in the highway of holiness, and light streaming down from above makes my pathway all clear, going home to Jesus.”
She was a clear-eyed, fresh-cheeked little maiden, living on the banks of the great Mississippi, the oldest of four children and mother’s ‘little woman’ always. They called her so because of her quiet, matronly care of the younger Mayfields, that was the father’s name. Her own name was the beautiful one of Elizabeth, but they shortened it to Bess. She was thirteen when one day Mr. Mayfield and his wife were called to the nearest town, six miles away. “Be mother’s little woman, dear,” said Mrs. Mayfield, as she kissed the rosy face. Her husband added: “I leave the children in your care, Bess; be a little mother to them.”
Bess waved her old sun-bonnet vigorously, and held up the baby Rose, that she might watch them to the last. Old Daddy Jim and Mammy had been detailed by Mr. Mayfield to keep an unsuspected watch on the little nestlings, and were to sleep at the house. Thus two days went by, when Daddy Jim and Mammy begged to be allowed to go to the quarters — where the negroes lived, to see their daughter “Jinnie, who was very sick with a toothache.” They declared they would be back by evening, so Bess was willing. She put the little girls to bed, and persuaded Rob to go; then seated herself by the table with her mother’s work basket, in quaint imitation of Mrs. Mayfield’s industry in the evening time. But what was this? Her feet touched something cold! She bent down and felt around with her hand. A pool of water was spreading over the floor. She knew what it was; the Mississippi had broken through the levee. What should she do? Mammy’s stories of how houses had been washed away and broken in pieces, were in her mind. “Oh, if I had a boat! ” she exclaimed, “but there isn’t anything of the sort on the place.” She ran wildly out to look for Mammy; and stumbled over something sitting near the edge of the porch.
A sudden inspiration took her. Here was her boat! a very large, old-fashioned, oblong tub. The water was now several inches deep on the porch, and she contrived to half-float, half-roll the tub into the room.
Without frightening the children she got them dressed in the warmest clothes they had. She lined the oblong tub with a blanket, and made ready bread and cold meat left from supper. With Rob’s assistance she dragged the tub up stairs. There was a single large window in the room, and they set the directly by it, so that when the water rose the tub would float out. There was no way for the children to reach the roof, which was a very steep, inclined one. It did not seem long before the water had very nearly risen to the top of the stairs leading from below. Bess flung the window open, and made Rob get into their novel boat; then she lifted in Kate, and finally baby Rose, who began to cry, was given into Rob’s arms, and now the little mother, taking the basket of food, made ready to enter too, but lo! There was no room for her with safety to the rest. Bess paused a moment, drew a long breath, and kissed the children quietly. She explained to Rob that he must guard the basket, and that they must sit still. “Good-bye, dears. Say a prayer for sister, Rob. If you ever see father and mother, tell them I took care of you.” Then the water seized the insecure vessel, and out into the dark night it floated.
The next day Mr. Mayfield, who, with his neighbors, scoured the broad lake of eddying water that represented the Mississippi, discovered the tub lodged in the branches of a sycamore with the children weeping and chilled, but safe.
And Bess? Ah, where was Bess, the “little mother,” who in that brief moment resigned herself to death? They found her later, floating on the water with her brave childish face turned to the sky; and as strong arms lifted her into the boat, the tears from every eye paid worthy tribute to the “little mother.” — Detroit Free Press.
This is my personal collection of thoughts and writings, mainly from much smarter people than I, which challenge me in my discipleship walk. Don't rush by these thoughts, but ponder them.
Milo 