FAITH

ONE day the doctor coming in found me on the sofa, and was surprised to
learn that with assistance I had walked downstairs. "Now," he said, "the
best thing you can go is to get off to the country as soon as you feel
equal to the journey. You must rusticate until you have recovered a fair
amount of health and strength, for if you begin your work too soon the
consequences may still be serious." When he had left, as I lay very
exhausted on the sofa, I just told the LORD all about it, and that I was
refraining from making my circumstances known to those who would delight
to meet my need, in order that my faith might be strengthened by
receiving help from Himself in answer to prayer alone. What was I to do?
And I waited for His answer.

It seemed to me as if He were directing my mind to the conclusion to go
again to the shipping office, and inquire about the wages I had been
unable to draw. I reminded the LORD that I could not afford to take a
conveyance, and that it did not seem at all likely that I should succeed
in getting the money, and asked whether this impulse was not a mere
clutching at a straw, some mental process of my own, rather than His
guidance and teaching. After prayer, however, and renewed waiting upon
GOD, I was confirmed in my belief that He Himself was teaching me to go
to the office.

The next question was, "How am I to go?" I had had to seek help in
coming downstairs, and the place was at least two miles away. The
assurance was brought vividly home to me that whatever I asked of GOD in
the name of CHRIST would be done, that the FATHER might be glorified in
the SON; that what I had to do was to seek strength for the long walk,
to receive it by faith, and to set out upon it. Unhesitatingly I told
the LORD that I was quite willing to take the walk if He would give me
the strength. I asked in the name of CHRIST that the strength might be
immediately given; and sending the servant up to my room for my hat and
stick, I set out, not to _attempt_ to walk, but TO WALK to Cheapside.

Although undoubtedly strengthened by faith, I never took so much
interest in shop windows as I did upon that journey. At every second or
third step I was glad to lean a little against the plate glass, and take
time to examine the contents of the windows before passing on. It needed
a special effort of faith when I got to the bottom of Farringdon Street
to attempt the toilsome ascent of Snow Hill: there was no Holborn
Vi