ct to like passions as we are, and he prayed
earnestly that it might not rain; and it rained not on the earth by the
space of three years and six months. And he prayed again, and the heaven
gave rain, and the earth brought forth her fruit."

Two things are here plainly put before us: first, that Elijah was but a
man, of like nature with other men and subject to all human frailties
and infirmities; and, secondly, that this man was such a power because
he was a man of prayer: he prayed earnestly; literally "he prayed with
prayer"; prayed habitually and importunately. No man can read Elijah's
short history as given in the word of God, without seeing that he was a
man like ourselves. Under the juniper-tree of doubt and despondency, he
complained of his state and wished he might die. In the cave of a morbid
despair, he had to be met and subdued by the vision of God and by the
still, small voice. He was just like other men. It was not, therefore,
because he was above human follies and frailties, but because he was
subject to them, that he is held up to us as an encouraging example of
power that prevails in prayer. He laid hold of the Almighty Arm because
he was weak, and he kept hold because to lose hold was to let weakness
prevail. Nevertheless, this man, by prayer alone, shut up heaven's
floodgates for three years and a half, and then by the same key unlocked
them. Yes, this man tested the meaning of those wonderful words:
"concerning the work of My hands command ye Me." (Isaiah xlv. 11.) God
put the forces of nature for the time under the sway of this one man's
prayer--one frail, feeble, foolish mortal locked and unlocked the
springs of waters, because he held God's key.

George Muller was simply another Elijah. Like him, a man subject to all
human infirmities, he had his fits of despondency and murmuring, of
distrust and waywardness; but he prayed and kept praying. He denied that
he was a miracle-worker, in any sense that implies elevation of
character and endowment above other fellow disciples, as though he were
a specially privileged saint; but in a sense he _was_ a miracle-worker,
if by that is meant that he wrought wonders impossible to the natural
and carnal man. With God all things are possible, and so are they
declared to be to him that believeth. God meant that George Muller,
wherever his work was witnessed or his story is read, should be a
standing rebuke, to the _practical impotence of the average disciple._
Wh