is a charm about her still in spite of the fact that
she is a woman of many a shattered romance. Five times she has been
married, but the marriage relationship has had little sacredness for
her. Her orange blossoms have been dipped in pitch and to-day she is
living in open sin.

Who would ever have expected any marked change in this woman? Who
would ever have dreamed that underneath this cheap and tarnished dress
there beat a hungry heart? Who would ever have thought that this
outcast heathen had moments when she looked wistfully toward the
heights and longed for a better life? I suppose nobody would ever have
thought of it but the kindly Stranger who now sat upon the well curb
talking to her. He knew that in spite of her wasted years, in spite of
her tarnished past, in spite of the fact that the foul breath of
passion had blown her about the streets as a filthy rag--there still
was that within her that hungered and thirsted for goodness and for God.

And, my friend, you may assume that that thirst belongs to every man.
There is not one that is not stirred by it. It belongs to the best of
mankind. It belongs to the elect company of white souled men and women
that have climbed far up the hills toward God. It belongs to the great
saints like David who cries, "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living
God," who sobs out in his intensity of longing, "As the hart panteth
after the water brook, so panteth my soul after thee, O God."

And thank God it does not belong to the saints alone. It belongs also
to the sinners. It does not belong simply to those who have climbed
toward the heights, but also to those who have dipped toward the lowest
depths. About the only difference between the saint and the sinner in
this respect is that the saint knows what he is thirsting for. He
knows who it is that can satisfy the deepest longings of his soul, and
the sinner does not know. But both of them are thirsting for the
living God.

Jesus Christ knew men and women. He knew the human heart, and knowing
man at his deepest, He knew what we sometimes forget. He knew that in
every man, however low, however degraded he may be--that in every
woman, however soiled and stained she may be, there is an insatiable
longing for God. They do not always realize that for which they are
thirsting. But I am absolutely sure that Augustine was right when he
said that "God has made us for Himself and we never find rest till we
rest in Him