ye will, and
it shall be done unto you." The promise carries a condition--abiding
in his words--obeying his commands--keeping the very _first_
Commandment, which is that "Ye shall have no other gods before me"--no
gods of evil, sickness, chance, or death. The promises are fulfilled
only on the condition of righteousness--right-thinking about God and
His infinite, spiritual manifestation.

He turned to Carmen. "_Chiquita_," he said tenderly, "you never ask
God to give you things, do you?"

"Why, no, Padre; why should I? He gives me everything I need, doesn't
He?"

"Yes--when you go out to the shales, you--"

"I don't ask Him for things, Padre dear. I just tell Him I _know_ He
is everywhere."

"I see--yes, you told me that long ago--I understand, _chiquita_."
His spirit bowed in humble reverence before such divine faith. This
untutored, unlearned girl, isolated upon these burning shales, far,
far from the haunts of men of pride and power and worldly lore--this
barefoot child whose coffers held of material riches scarce more than
the little calico dress upon her back--this lowly being knew that
which all the fabled wealth of Ind could never buy! Her prayers were
not the selfish pleadings that spring from narrow souls, the souls
that "ask amiss"--not the frenzied yearnings wrung from suffering,
ignorant hearts--nor were they the inflated instructions addressed
to the Almighty by a smug, complacent clergy, the self-constituted
press-bureau of infinite Wisdom. Her prayers, which so often drifted
like sweetest incense about those steaming shales, were not
petitions, but _affirmations_. They did not limit God. She did not
plead with Him. She simply _knew_ that He had already met her needs.
And that righteousness--right-thinking--became externalized in her
consciousness in the good she sought. Jesus did the same thing, over
and over again; but the poor, stupid minds of the people were so
full of wrong beliefs about his infinite Father that they could not
understand, no, not even when he called Lazarus from the tomb.

"Ask in my name," urged the patient Jesus. But the poor fishermen
thought he meant his human name to be a talisman, a sort of "Open
Sesame," when he was striving all the time, by precept and deed, to
show them that they must ask in his _character_, must be like him, to
whom, though of himself he could do nothing, yet all things were
possible.

Jose's heart began to echo the Master's words: "Father, I thank