nd suffer from them. And yet it
is all just a repetition of the Bible stories of all ages; nay, of all
stories of genuine fighting in any great cause. The great feature of
our present experience in this matter is that the number who go out
from us grows every year smaller in proportion to the whole, and that,
as the General says in the above extract, a very large proportion of
those continue in friendly relations with us.

'The triumph of these splendid men and women, in the face of every
kind of difficulty in every part of the world is, however, really a
triumph of their faith. It is not the Army, it is not their leaders,
it is not even the wonderful devotion which many of them manifest,
which is the secret of their continued life and continued success, nor
is it any confidence in their own abilities. No! The true
representative of the Army is relying at every turn upon the presence,
guidance, and help of God in trying to carry out the Father's purpose
with respect to every lost and suffering child of man. By that test,
alike in the present and future, we must ever stand or fall. The Army
is either a work of faith or it is nothing at all.

'Everything throughout all our ranks can really be brought to that
test, and I regard with composure every loss and attack, every puzzle
and danger, chiefly because I rely upon my comrades' trust in God
being responded to by Him according to their need.'

Perhaps I may be allowed to add a few remarks upon this subject. A
great deal is made of the resignation of a few Salvation Army Officers
in order that they may accept excellent posts in other walks of life;
indeed, it is not uncommon to see it stated that such resignations
herald the dissolution of the Society. Inasmuch as the number of the
Army's Officers is nearing 20,000 it would seem that it can very well
spare a few of them. What fills me with wonder is not that some go,
but that so many remain. _This_ is one of the facts which, amongst
much that is discouraging, convinces me of the innate nobility of man.
An old friend of mine of pious disposition once remarked to me that
_he_ could never have been a Christian martyr. At the first twist of
the cord, or the first nip of the red-hot pincers, he was sure that
_he_ would have thrown incense by the handful upon the altar of any
heathen god or goddess that was fashionable at the moment. His spirit
might have been willing, but his flesh would certainly have proved
weak.

I symp