old woman; but she died two years ago. We may comfort
ourselves with the thought that surely some of those who have heard have
become secret believers. But will a true believer remain secret always?
We may trust that many a dear little child died young, loving Jesus, and
went to Him. But what about those who have not died young? I know that a
brighter view may be taken, and if the sadder has been emphasised in
these letters, it is only because we feel you know less about it.

For more has been written about the successes than about the failures,
and it seems to us that it is more important that you should know about
the reverses than about the successes of the war. We shall have all
eternity to celebrate the victories, but we have only the few hours
before sunset in which to win them. We are not winning them as we
should, because the fact of the reverses is so little realised, and the
needed reinforcements are not forthcoming, as they would be if the
position were thoroughly understood. Reinforcements of men and women are
needed, but, far above all, reinforcements of prayer. And so we have
tried to tell you the truth--the uninteresting, unromantic truth--about
the heathen as we find them, the work as it is. More workers are needed.
No words can tell how much they are needed, how much they are _wanted_
here. But we will never try to allure anyone to think of coming by
painting coloured pictures, when the facts are in black and white. What
if black and white will never attract like colours? We care not for it;
our business is to tell the truth. The work is not a pretty thing, to be
looked at and admired. It is a fight. And battlefields are not
beautiful.

But if one is truly called of God, all the difficulties and
discouragements only intensify the Call. If things were easier there
would be less need. The greater the need, the clearer the Call rings
through one, the deeper the conviction grows: _it was God's Call_. And
as one obeys it, there is the joy of obedience, quite apart from the joy
of success. There is joy in being with Jesus in a place where His
friends are few; and sometimes, when one would least expect it, coming
home tired out and disheartened after a day in an opposing or
indifferent town, suddenly--how, you can hardly tell--such a wave of the
joy of Jesus flows over you and through you, that you are stilled with
the sense of utter joy. Then, when you see Him winning souls, or hear of
your comrades' victor