re
Rosendo sick, and that He will not let him die! Know it for him--and
for me!"

"Why, Padre, I know that now!" The child looked up into the priest's
face with her luminous eyes radiating unshaken trust--a trust that
seemed born of understanding. Yea, she knew that all good was there,
for God is omnipotent. They had but to stretch forth their hands to
touch the robe of His Christ. The healing principle which cleansed the
lepers and raised the dead was even with them there in that quiet
room. Jose had only to realize it, nothing doubting. Carmen had done
her work, and her mind now was stayed on Him. Infinite Intelligence
did not know Rosendo as Jose was trying to know him, sick and dying.
God is Life--and there is no death!

Carmen was again asleep. Jose sat alone, his open Bible before him and
his thought with his God.

Oh, for even a slight conception of Him who is Life! Moses worked "as
seeing Him who is invisible." Carmen lived with her eyes on Him,
despite her dreary mundane encompassment. And Jose, as he sat there
throughout the watches of the night, facing the black terror, was
striving to pierce the mist which had gone up from the face of the
ground and was separating him from his God. Through the long, dark
hours, with the quiet of death upon the desolate chamber, he sat mute
before the veil that was "still untaken away."

What was it that kept telling him that Rosendo lay dying before him?
Does matter talk? Did the serpent talk to Eve? Do fleshly nerves and
frail bodily organs converse with men? Can the externalization of
thought report back to the thought itself? Nay, the report came to him
from the physical senses--naught else. And they reported--nothing! He
was seeing but his own thoughts of mixed good and evil. And they were
false, because they testified against God.

Surely God knew Rosendo. But not as the physical senses were trying to
make Jose know him, sick and dying. Surely the subjective determines
the objective; for as we think, so are we--the Christ said that. From
his human standpoint Jose was seeing his thoughts of a dying mortal.
And now he was trying to know that those thoughts did not come from
God--that they had no authority back of them--that they were children
of the "one lie" about God--that they were false, false as hell, and
therefore impotent and unreal.

What, then, had he to fear? Nothing, for truth is beyond the reach of
personal sense. So God and His ideas, reflected by the