ill. I am urgently needed; but
the trains are overcrowded, I am unable to get my seat transferred to
an earlier date, I cannot let them know at home when I shall return:
all is uncertain, all is chaos. I am painfully anxious, I am ashamed to
say I am greatly worried: I turn as always to my Lord, asking Him to
forgive these selfish fears and to help me. A little while later a scene
presents itself to me--I see my own room, I hear the voice of a page-boy
standing in the door and saying, "You are wanted on the
telephone"; then I am at the telephone, and a voice is saying to me,
"_Your train accommodation is transferred to Friday the 19th._"
That is all, because I am rung off.

Five days pass. I am in my room, and the page is really standing at
the door, and he says, "You are wanted on the telephone." I go to the
telephone, and a voice says, "_Your train accommodation is
transferred to Friday the 19th._" That is all, because I am rung off.

Again, there is a young lay-reader, closely in contact with Christ; he
has a wife and young child. The weather is bitterly cold. A picture
suddenly comes before me of this family, and there is a voice saying,
"_He was gathering together the last little pieces of fuel when your
present came._" Immediately I understand that I am required to send
coal to these people, and to do it at once without delay. The
following day the wife comes with tears to thank me, and she tells
me, "We were in despair; my husband's heart is so weak he cannot
bear the cold, he becomes seriously ill. _He was gathering together
the last little pieces of fuel when your present came._"

Or, again, I very badly need a pair of walking shoes, but for weeks I
have been so absorbed in contemplation that the pain of bringing
myself from this holy joy to do shopping is too great, and I delay
and delay; I cannot bring myself to it; but shoes are a necessity of
earthly life. Having exceedingly narrow feet, I am obliged always to
get my shoes from a certain maker, and now, during the war, he
makes so few shoes. To-day a picture of the shop comes before me,
and the words "Go to-day, go to-day," urge themselves upon my
consciousness. Then a picture comes of the assistant; I show her my
foot, and she says, "_There is only one pair left; how fortunate you
came to-day!_" So I understand I must go to my shopping and,
greatly against my will, I go that afternoon. The assistant comes
forward, and I show her my foot, and she says,