these things are required of the soul: in
fact that importunity is necessary of which Jesus spoke (Luke xi. 7-9):
"And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not . . . I
cannot rise and give thee. I say unto you he will not rise and give
him because he is his friend, yet _because of his importunity_ he
will rise and give him as many as he needeth. And I say unto you,
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it
shall be opened unto you."

Such times of distress are storms, fearful battles of the soul in which
she must not faint but rise up and walk towards God and clamour for
help; and she will receive it. In His own good time He will give her
all that she asks and more even than she dreamed of. She must claim
from God a continual restrengthening, and search with glowing
aspiration for a more joyous love.

X

It was summer-time: a great battle was raging in France. A friend
wrote me that my husband was up in the very foremost part of it. I
heard no word from my husband; weeks passed, and still the same
ominous silence. At last the day came when the shadow of these two
fearful years rose up and overwhelmed me altogether. I went up on
to the wild lonely hill where I so often walked, and there I
contended with God for His help. For the first time in my life there
was nothing between God and myself--this had _continually_
happened with Jesus Christ, but not with God the Father, Who
remained totally inaccessible to me. Now, like a man standing
in a very dark place and seeing nothing but knowing himself
immediately near to another--so I knew myself in very great
nearness to God. I had no need for eyes to see outwardly, because of
the immense magnetism of this inward Awareness. At one moment
my heart and mind ran like water before Him--praying Him,
beseeching Him for His help; at another my soul stood straight up
before Him, contending and claiming because she could bear no
more: and it felt as though the Spirit of God stood over against my
spirit, and my spirit wrestled with God's Spirit for more than an hour.
But He gave me no answer, no sign, no help. He gave me nothing
but that awful silence which seems to hang for ever between God
and Man. And I became exhausted, and turned away in despair from
God, and from supplication, and from striving, and from contending,
and, very quiet and profoundly sad, I stood looking out across the
hills to the distant view--how gentle and lovely this pe