WPORT DAILY INDEPENDENT
PERCY N. VAN DYKE. Publltlxr ind Editor.
NEWPORT. - - ARKANSAS.
The Ghost of the
Round House.
By Esther Serle Kenneth.
Sum .. .—**
IT HAD been built in the old co
lonial times for a blockhouse—a
perfectly circular structure, formed
of oaken logs, some 20 feet high, and
with a steep, pointed roof. At a dis
tance it had looked like an old tower
until Dr. Amberley purchased it, and
threw out rustic piazzas and bal
conies, covexed with vines. Then it
u\Tsr more picturesque than any mod
ern villa you ever saw.
It, stood on a high hill against a
group of balsamic pines, and over
looked the green banks of a rapid
stream and verdant meadows. So
salubrious was the situation that the
doctor found it desirable to keep open
bouse for bis patients; and seldom a
week passed that some languishing
guest did not seek its hospitality for
tlie advantages it possessed, to soon
bid it farewell a renewed creature.
And there was no more perfect pic
ture of health than his only child,
Premia. Straight and supple ns an
Indian, frank-eyed, glowing, and with
never a nervous pain in her life, she
seemed the very spirit of courage and
joyous life. She was the most effec
tive of housekeepers, and delighted
in receiving company under their ro
mantic roof.
Having no mother, she was mis
tress of her father’s house, his com
panion and pet. Several years pre
vious ihey had come out of the city,
and chosen this house, wherein to
give free scope to the powers of both.
Part of the year—all summer—the
Hound House, as it was called, was
Idled to overflowing with the doctor’s
patients and personal friends. Hut
when winter and its severest weather
came, the family, so deep in the coun
try, were left mostly to themselves.
Hut Brenda was still brightly happy
and busy as a bee. She read all the
new books to keep abreast with her
literary friends, practiced songs, and
embroidered gifts for her many fa
vorites, while her adored father rev
eled in his favorite dishes prepared
by her own fair hands.
During these quiet, happy seasons,
they never kept but one servant, a
stout maid-of-all-work, whose name
was Patty. They had brought her
from the city, and she had spent two
winters with them; but on the ap
proach of the third, Patty deserted
— - — — her 4>ost. - _„ —
,<Thc^pOwp?yn»e 'ntr gone—mu' of
them cold, fearsome times be a-com
in’, Miss,” she said to Brenda, “and I’d
rather be awa’.”
“I’m sure the house is warm here
winters, and what in the world are
you afraid of, Patty?” asked the
young lady.
“Well, there be no use saying fear
to the likes of you, Miss Brenda,”
answered the girl. "You’re always
ready to laugh and flirt awa’ such
talk, but the Hound House is set so
high on the hill, the winds go a-talkin’
round it o’ nights. It's like bein’ up
in heaven ’mong the sperrits.”
"Nonsense, ratty—wnat notions:
But if you want to go, you may. l’apa
and I cun get along till we get some
body else.”
For Brenda was no more afraid of
housework than she was of "sperrits.”
“Well, it's good not to be lonesome
in a lone place. Miss, 1 suppose. But
one might well be afraid of liis life
here. For 1 say I’d as lief be mur
dered as frightened to death.”
“What are you talking about, I’at
- ty?”
“Plenty o’ people in the village will
tell you, Miss, that there was a mur
der committed here some ten years
ago. As likely a young man as could
be, who was spending the night here
alone, was murdered by some enemy
following him and coming upon him
unawares just ns he was a-erossin’
the threshold; ah’ there he lay dead
at the door three days an’ three
nights before he Was chanced to be
found. And that door, Miss." con
cluded the girl, with a shudder, “it
be always nil’ always a-cliekin’, es
pecially on a dark night, when you
can’t see what does it. 1 alius sleep
with my head covered up, so as not
to hear it.”
“Poor Patty!” said Brenda, after a
moment’s thought. "1 did not dream
you were so troubled. As you say,
you would be best away front here.
But we shall not be afraid of visita
tations—of visitations of the poor
.—-young man. You see, we are more
strong-minded."
“It’s well ye are,” said the girl,
significantly; "for I’ve heard from
them who’s seen him since he died
about this very place, a tryin' to get
in, Miss, with a streak of blood on his
peck.” .
'J;$Ob! what a regular ghost-story!”
3tfH£*d Brenda, half laughing, as Pat
. paused, choking with awe. "Well,
Patty, go pack up, and I’ll take you
wSfcb the station for the last train,”
j und Brenda turned again to her book.
Poor Patty gladly obeyed this per
mission, and that afternoon, with till
her goods and chattels, ivus put on
her way to the city'.
Brenda came bowling back briskly
alone. The fine country roads were
frozen hard, and Brenda enjoyed he*
«wn free driving.
As she drew rein at the door, her
father came out. Lustily pulling on u
coat, having just divested himself of
his dressing-gown.
“Brenda, my love, I will take care
of Mogul.”
“I’apa, dear, 1 can put him up just
as well. You have on your slippers,
and the ground is so cold! Ileinem
her your cough. Pray go back.”
But the doctor still came on.
“I’ve just had application by letter
to take another patient, Brenda.”
“At this time of year?”
“Yes. A gentleman, who, through
a severe cold, lias quite lost his voice.
He wishes to put himself in my care,
and, therefore, is coming here.”
“When?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“Not until 1 can get a woman in the
kitchen, 1 hope. I’ll send to the city
to-morrow.”
But now came the greatest trouble
of Brenda's life. Her father was at
tacked with congestion of the lungs
that night, and only his own presence
of mind in directing Brenda, and the
girl’s extreme exertions, saved his
lire.
Toward the third evening she saw
her father’s heavy eyes wistfully
reading her pale face.
“Steep some hops and make a tea
for me to drink, and 1 shall sleep to
night,” he whispered, for louder
speech was extremely painful.
“Yes, father.”
She knew of old this simple and ef
fectual remedy. It was a happy
thought of her father’s, and she im
mediately prepared to obey him.
Its nourishment and soothing in
fluence soon had a healthful effect on
him, and, with a few last directions
for the night, he composed himself
to a night of natural rest.
Her own room was a half flight of
stairs down to the ground floor. It
joined the pretty south parlor, and
was so situated that the slightest
Rnnnrl in tier fnther’x room could be
heard there. Feeling- the. need of
sleep, and knowing that she could
rest more satisfactorily in her own
bed than on the lounge near her fa
ther, Brenda arranged the lights, left
the doors open—the house being
evenly warmed—and stole down to
her own room. By this time it was
nine o’clock, and a very dark night.
She was aroused by a sound as if
the. front door were gently, almost
cautiously, tried or shaken. With a
bound she was on her feet.
With burning cheeks and a fast
beating heart, she listened.
Meanwhile, she could not see her
hand before her, the rooms were so
dark. She stood quite still in the cen
ter of the apartment, trying to sum
mon her resources.
She had none. If the person try
ing to get into the house were a bur
glar or a murderer, or some crazed
being, what could she do? Scarcely
any thing.
“But they shall not harm father!”
The girl spoke aloud. Then, gath
ering the soft folds of her wrapper
from about her naked white feet, she
moved out of the room into the
parlor, and found one of the front
windows with her hands. Not a ray
came from the sable sky, but in a
large square of light, made outside
by her father’s lamp upon the frozen
ground, stood the figure of a young
man.
He was clearly young, for he stood
looking up at the windows of the
chamber, thus revealing every fea
ture. Hands and face were frozen
pale, and then Brenda’s eyes dilated
in involuntary horror—a slight, slow
movement showed a red line along his
neck.
For a moment the girl’s head
swam. Then out of the stillness of
the house voices seemed to mock in
her ears and her vision grew blinded.
For above her stood the ghostly vis
itor from whom Patty had fled.
It was a swift conviction. Then,
without sign or warning, the figure
disappeared, and Brenda stood in the
silence, listening to her own heavy
heart-beats—her very brain on lire.
For an hour she waited, harkening
to every sound, but all continued un
disturbed, and at last, forcing her
almost paralyzed limbs to move, she
started from her position and
dragged herself up to her father’s
room.
He was still sleeping, sweetly.
Trembling, yet resisting her fear,
Brenda stood watching him, glad of
even his unconscious presence.
Then, having unconsciously dis
missed from her mind the idea of
burglars, she lay down on the couch
beside the bed, and lay wide-eyed
and thoughtful until morning.
The doctor, much better the next
day, found the girl very silent and
pale. She made no complaint of any
weariness or trouble, but when he
urged her to go to the village for
help, she complied, and, driving to
Wellbridge with Mogul, returned
with the village nurse--Aunt Dorothy
Bust.
If not a nurse after her own heart,
she was at least a human being; and,
weakened and more nervous than
ever before in her life, Brenda was
glad of any human presence in the
solitary and echoing house.
Though weak and depressed, Bren
da’s natural strength of mind pre
vented her relating the episode of the
previous night. She would not yield
to fear or panic, though she pon
dered silently over the mystery, and
retired to rest as usual that night
only at a much earlier hour.
The sky was threatening as they
drove from Wellbridge. At dark if
began to snow. Before eight o’clock
it was storming violently.
Brenda retired with a sense of re
lief and comfort. The security giver
by' the presence of Aunt Dorothy
the privilege of undressing and sleep
ing comfortably, and the luxurious
warmth of the house, contrasting
with the sounds of the storm, cum
bined to fill her with a feeling of
quiet and gratitude; and soon as hei
head touched the pillow she fell iutc
.1
\
sweet and composed slumber. Judge,
then, of the shock of her being
awakened almost immediately by the
violent shaking at the front door.
Leaping to her feet, she felt her
way into her dressing-gown and slip
pers, and reached the front hall just
as Aunt Dorothy in her list shoes
came swiftly down the stairs.
“Brenda! Brenda!” she called, in a
cautious tone, “some one wants to
come in.”
But Brenda had flung herself ’'•Ah
all her force against the locked and
barred door.
“No, no,” she cried. “Let no one
in! It is the ghost of the Round
House. I saw him.”
In her excitement, she was lialf
conseious of Aunt Dorothy’s look of
amazed terror, but she was using all
her strength to resist the force with
out with which the strong oaken
door, in spite of bolted bars, trem
bled.
finally, (he effort without ceased.
But the next moment there was a
dismal shriek from Aunt Dorothy.
She stood with fixed eyes gazing into
the parlor, and there against one of
the windows was the figure of a
young man, with pale, distorted coun
tenance, using all his efforts to get
in.
“Hold the window’s down! Oh,
Aunt Dorothy, help me!” screamed
Brenda, springing for the sash.
“Wait, child wait. Ask him what
he wants. Ask him that, anyway,
whether he is a ghost or not!” cried
Aunt Dorothy.
Brenda still hung upon the sash,
but fixed her flaring eyes upon the
pale face outside, and called loudly,
“What do you want? What do you
want here? No, no; you cannot
come in!” as with eager gestures
not to be mistaken the apparition
signaled his desire to enter.
11 -i x 1. .. il. ..
V/ll, VI UU . It 11 uou 1/v » vtv....
groaned Aunt Dorothy. “He moves
his 'ips. but he dont’ make a sound!”
cried Aunt Dorothy, now even more
terrified than Brenda.
And now that the object of their
terror appeared at a new window,
she followed her example and ran to
hold it down with all her strength.
The cries of the two could not fail
to arouse Ihe doctor. He listened a
moment, and then, in his alarm, for
getting his illness, rose and drew on
his dressing-gown and came quietly
down the stairs. There he stood be
hind the unconscious women for sev
eral seconds, gazing in amazement
upon the scene.
“Stop! stop!” he cried at last, in
a voice of command. “Why don’t you
let him in? Why don’t you let him
in out of the storm? It must be Mr.
Lorillard.”
Brenda's hands fell down", and she
turned toward her father, paralyzed
by his presence.
As soon as she did so, the sash flew
up and the stranger sprang into the
room. He was dripping wet, with a
red scarf tied closely about his
throat.
“Why,” he cried wildly, in a hoarse
whisper—"why, for Heaven’s sake, do
you refuse me your hospitality on
such a night as this?”
For a moment the whole group
stood silently looking at each other.
If Brenda and Dorothy looked with
wonder upon the stranger, with no
less astonishment he gazed upon
them.
“You, Dr. Amberly-” he said, in
the same strange whisper, turning to
the doctor.
“Yes,” he assented.
“You surely know that to be ex
posed to this storm in my con
dition-”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Lorillard. This is
some astounding mistake. Aunt
Dorothy, find him dry clothes and hot
drink at once. He is my patient.
Hut I. too, am sick
Premia sprang to his side.
"Oil, father, father, this will kill
you!”
She hurried him back to bed, while
Aunt Dorothy silently took charge of
the stranger.
The next day came explanations,
and this was Paul Lorillard’s story:
The train had left him at Wellbridge
the day before. Mistaking the dis
tance to the Pound House, he started
on foot, and, after a four-mile walk,
finally reached it quite late. The
night was inky dark, the knocker so
high ii)) on the door that he could
not find it, and there being no sign
of any one awake in the house, he
had finally turned about and retraced
his steps to the village.
Put on this, tlie second night, he
had been equally unfortunate, for in
the storm he had lost his way, and
found it with difficulty. Put drenched
to the skin, in spite of his warm and
rich apparel, and knowing, in his pre
carious condition of health, that his
life was in danger, he had determined
to get under shelter.
Knowing that lie was expected, he
could not understand this treatment.
His signs and movements of the lips
only seemed to make matters worse;
and, almost forced to abandon his
efforts in despair, he was about to
return again to the more hospitable
village tavern, when the resistance
ceased.
Put one of the wonders of this
strange night's treatment was that
it restored the voice that Lorillard
had been deprived of for a year. His
liberal bath and severe exertions,
added to by a deep sleep and profuse
perspiration, altered and improved
his condition to this surprising ex
tent.
Well, he was the doctor's guest
however, if not his patient, detained
by the earnest desire of all the fami
ly, to atone for the seeming heart
lessness and inhospitality of that
first evening, and proving himself i
thorough gentleman and a very oapi
tal fellow, my story must end witl
the announcement that Prenda event
ually married her ghost.—People’!
Home Journal.
AN INVINCIBLE UNION
God’s Purpose Linked with Man’s
Surrendered Will.
What It Meant* to Say, ‘"The Cord oC
HoMtx It* with Us”—Sermon by
the “Highway anil ’By
way” I’roacher.
[Copyright, 1903, by J. M. Edson 1
Chicago, 1903.
Text: “The Lord of Hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge.”—Psalm
4S:7.
ME words of our
text, like the
triumphant shout
of a returning
a r m y proclaim
ing the prowess
of the great gen
eral who has led
it to victory,
sound forth from
the 40 th Psalm,
which was writ
ten supposedly in commemoration of
the great deliverance of Jerusalem
from the mighty Assyrian army. It
was during the reign of the godly
King Hezekiah that these remarkable
events transpired. They are full of
thrilling interest. Following the vig
orous religious and political reforms
with which Ilezekiah inaugurated his
reign, he boldy threw off the yoke
of the Assyrian king and refused lon
ger to pay him tribute. Later the
northern tribes of Israel were taken
captive and their country laid waste
by the Assyrians, and this exposed
Judah to fresh attack. Many of her
strongholds were taken and the vast
Assyrian army under Sennacherib
came and encamped against Jerusa
lem. The city was ordered to sur
render in the most insulting and
blasphemous language. The God of
tiuuaii was cieiieu as uemg uunmc ^
save them from tlie iron hand of the
great eonqiieror. In the hour of
peril and desperate need Hezekiak
lays the matter before the Lord and
obtains word through the Prophet
Isaiah that the Lord has heard his
prayer and will deliver the city out
of the hands of the enemy. “And it
came to pass that night that the
angel of the Lord went out and smote
in the camp of the Assyrians an
hundred four score and five thou
sand: and when they arose early in
the morning behold, they were all
dead corpses.”
SO MUCH for the historical facts
which probably furnished some
devout Jewish poet with his inspira
tion for the Psalm. In the eleven
short verses of this paean of praise the
words of our text are repeated twice,
echoing the thought in the opening
verse, and furnishing the key to the
whole. The sound of the words
comes with the reassuring calm of
the “Peace, be still!” which hushed
the raging sea of Galilee to rest. It
is a confident boast which sAvells and
throbs all through the Psalm and re
veals the glory which comes from the
linking of the Divine power with hu
man weakness, bringing victory in
the face of a mighty foe. What must
these words have meant to those
helpless Jews shut up in their
city and unable of themselves to
strike a single effective blow at
the enemy which threatened their
homes and their loved ones? To-day
the Assyrians are seen to be drawing
the lines closer about the city and
preparing to make the final assault
unon the city’s ■walls. Darkness
closes in upon the city and the en
camped enemy. What the morrow
may bring forth tills the people with
anxious dread. But Hezekiah and
Isaiah have placed the matters at is
sue in the hands of a mighty ally,
and, while the besieged city waits,
God’s angel goes forth and smites the
Assyrian army with the scourge of
death. The morning light as it breaks
over that troubled and anxious city
reveals to the wondering eyes of the
people heaps of dead instead of an
onrushing and conquering army, and
in the distance the remnant of Sen
nacherib's army can be seen retreat
ing, leaving behind its lifeless war
riors. It is no idle boast which echoes
throughout the city. They can say
in truth: “The Lord of Hosts is with
us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.”
ft' T WAS a great thing for King Heze
(V kiah to be able to claim the Lord
ns his ally. It is the greatest boast
which any soul can make. Japan a
few years ago was proud to claim as
her ally the British nation with her
powerful fleets. Cuba more recently
was made strong and confident in the
knowledge that the United States
stood behind her in sympathy and
was ready to help strike the blow for
liberty.
Napoleon’s boast that God was with
the heaviest artillery sounds well, and
has echoed and reechoed on the lips of
men in self-assuring confidence ever
since, but we dare to claim it is not
true. We would like to recast it and
say: “God, with the artillery, makes
it the strongest.” The imputation that
God is always looking for the biggest
army and the heaviest guns, so as to
be on the winning side, is worse than
blasphemy. God is always with the
right, and whether it has the heaviest
guns or not it wins gloriously in the
end. Surely it was not because Heze
kiah had the heaviest fighting force
which made God his ally and secured
for him the victory. Follow through
the pages of sacred history and it will
be seen that with God it was not a ques
tion of the largest army and best
equipment, but was always an issue
between right and wrong; the deliv
erance of man in answer to faith, ami
the glory of God in fulfillment of His
promises. Trace through the pagis
of profane history and it is* no hard
task to find again and again the tri
JlfLfl I=|||l
N, _ _
1 nmph of the right in (lie face of the
greatest odds; the victory of the
weaker over the strong because the
Lord of Hosts was with the weaker
in the righteous cause. Take it in
our own revolutionary war and con
sider the seemingly insurmountable
odds against which Washington's
small and poorly-equipped army con
tended. If it were true that God was
with the largest armies and 1he heav
iest artillery, how can the surrender
at Yorktown be explained? how can
the bravely-won independence be un
derstood? Wrong may sometimes tri
umph for a season; the might of man
may seem to prevail and victory for a
time perch upon its banner, but it
must not be forgotten that God is play
ing- a large game, and that His record
cannot be written in a decade, or a
generation, or a century. Ultimate
triumph is to be His. Truth as it is
found in Him is to prevail. God says:
“I will be exalted in the earth,” and
they who can say: “The Lord of Hosts
is with us; the God of Jacob is our
refuge,” are fighting along the Lne
of sure victory.
0THE titles which are given to God
i in our text are specially fitting
and significant: “The Lord of Hosts,”
and “the God of Jacob.” The hosts of
the Assyrians had come up against
Jerusalem, but the hosts of the Lord
were marshalled to the aid of the be
leaguered city. The honor, the pow
er. the faithfulness of God were im
pugned by the godless enemy, and the
covenant-keeping God could not for
, sake His people; He must deliver them
for His own vindication and honor,
as well as because the need was des
perate and the cry of faith was per
sistent. The Lord of Hosts as the
militant God; the God of Jacob as the
covenant-keeping God. If the c^ e of
faith will look long and steadily to
ward the hills from whence comes its
help, a vision w ill burst upon the soul
which will recall the sight which
cheered the faint-hearted semiiii in
the prophet as he was enabled to see
the innumerable hosts of God en
camped between the threatening en
emy and the hunted prophet. I he
Lord of Hosts. The Lord with the
countless multitudes of Heaven to car
ry out His commissions and execute^
His judgments. That was no idle
boast which Jesus made when the
Roman guard took Him prisoner in
the garden and He declared that He
could ask of His Father and He would
send “more than 12 legions of angel.
to deliver Him. Xerxes is credited
with having an army of over two
millions and a half of men when he
made his descent upon Greece, sup
posedly the largest army ever mus
tered by a single ruler, and yet this
immense Army, which it is said took
seven days and nights to cross the
bridge of boats built across the Hel
lespont, was but a handful of men in
comparison to the innumerable hosts
which God can marshal when need
requires. The arena of the upper a;r |
is tilled with the forces of Heaven as
they swiftly pass hither and thither
in performing the will of Him who is
the Lord of all these hosts. What a
tremendous claim it. is to say that
“the Lord of Hosts is with us!” What
invincible union! It was this confi
dence which brought Moses, the fugi
tive Hebrew, back and made him bold
to go before the mighty Pharaoh and
demand deliverance for his enslaved
countrymen. It was this confidence
which kept Joshua circling the walls
of Jericho until they crumbled to the
ground. It was this confidence which
nerved the arm of David and sent the
stone with unerring aim into the fore
head of the Philistine giant. It was
this confidence which enabled Paul to
“fight the good fight of faith, to meet
all the perils and hardships of his pio
neer missionary work and give him
the right at the close of his tremen
dously active life to claim that he
had been more than conqueror through
Him who had loved him and given
Himself for him. And it is this confi
dence which makes the servant of the
Lord brave and steadfast and victori
ous in the face of every foe, and en
ables him ‘to surmount every difficul
ty. The Lord of Hosts! What a title!
“The Lord of Hosts is with us!“
What a claim!
BUT the Lord is more than a mili
tant Lord leading His hosts to
victory. He is a safe refuge into
which ITis children may withdraw
when the storm is sweeping down
upon them, and they may rest there
until the danger is past. And it is
the God of Jacob Who is our refuge.
Why so? Why not the God of Abra
ham, or the God of Isaac? We do
not need to go into the history of
Jacob very far to discover the reason.
Who was it who had to flee for his
life to escape the anger of a wronged
brother and who found a resting
place at the gateway of Heaven,
where God met him and made Ilis
covenant with him? Who was it who
sojourned in the land of his jealous
and avaricious father-in-law, who
suffered wrong, who was cheated
and lied to and abused and threat
ened, and yet who found the Lord
was with him and giving him great
substance and a numerous progeny?
Who was it who was troubled with
the sins of his youth as he journeyed
toward the land from which he had
been forced to flee, and who when he
heard his brother was coming to meet
him with a force of fighting men de
spaired of his life? Who was it
sought out God alone that night and
wrestled with Him all night and at
last found in Him a safe refuge, even
though he halted on his hip through
out the rest of his days? The fugi
tive Jacob whom God brought back
in honor to the land of promise; the
oppressed Jacob whom God delivered
with much wealth and large family;
Itlie threatened "iid hated Jacob
whom God reconciled to his brother
—this is the one who can speak of
Go# as a God of refuge. The God of
Jafcob is the God who never fails Ilia
ohildren when they are in distress
and trouble. To speak of God as the
God of Jacob, to claim Him as our
refuge, instantly inspires confidence,
for despite all of Jacob’s meanness,,
and sin and wrong-doing, bis faith
reached up by way of the covenant
promises of God and obtained tlie
needed protection and help. To be
able to claim the God of Jacob as our
refuge is to put confidence in a God
Who has met every human need and
given protection in times of greatest
darkness and danger. This is the
kind of a God we need! This is the
kind of a God we have!
as UT not every one can claim that
tl “the Lord of Hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge.” Even y
Christians oftentimes cannot make
this proud boast, because sin lias
drawn them from God’s side, an-*fc-be-_ ^
cause, when in difficulty and distress,
they have turned to human aid in
stead of looking to God. Not all
churches that are founded in the
name of the Lord of Hosts can claim
in truth that He is with them. Many j
churches in their methods and prac- 1
tices, in their worldly-minded activi- A
ties, are not in the blessed company
of the One Whose name they bear. S
They may feel that they are further
ing the cause of Christ’s kingdom,
but they are seeking to perfect in^Bujk
the flesh that which lias begun in the^Mi
spirit, and are walking with the MU
world and not with God. It, mcans^KSl
much td' say, “the Lord of Hosts
with us.” Who may make that, claim?
How may one know that the Lord of
Hosts is with him? Let us consider
these all-important questions.
First, who may claim that the'Lord
of Hosts is standing with them, that
the omnipotent power is linked with
human weaKness m jhviui.idm uhiwu.
He who by a threefold act of will and
heart lias turned towards God. has ac
cepted Him and is walking with Him.
It is a matter of attitude towards
God, of choice between self or God,
and of conduct following the ehojee,,, -—s
Right attitude towards God \fill al
ways discover His dwelling place;
right choice will always place human
feet on the pathway along which God
moves, and right conduct will keep
the soui in step with the Divine will,
so that it can confidently claim, “the
Lord of Hosts is w ith me; the God of
Jacob is my refuge.” This three
runged ladder must be used by saint
and sinner alike in gaining the realm
in which God moves.
There is a sense in which the Lord
is always with the soul which has been
born again, whether that soul is liv
ing in obedience to His will or not,
for He knows them that are Ilis—and
none shall be lost, even though they
are at last saved, “so as by fire.” There
is a sense in which the Lord is always
with the unregenerate soul <>f~nniu,~
for Scripture declares that God stands
at the door of the human heart and
knocks, and the sinner is told to call
upon the Lord while He is near. But
neither saint nor sinner can make the
boast of the text unless his attitude,
iiis choice and his conduct are right.
In the case of the saint it is the renew
ing of its broken relationship w ith God.
With the sinner it is the beginning of
a new experience, in which the atti
tude of the heart 1s toward God, the
choice for the first time is made for
God and the conduct is with God.
3?rIIE sinner cannot share in the tri
umphant strain of our text until
his heart has turned towards God, un
til his will has been surrendered and
a new motive rules in his life. Atti- r"
tude is the light which shows where
God is; choice is the step which, if
taken, nlaces the soul at the side of
God, and conduct is the music of the
life which enables it to keep its step
with the Divine will. The Christian
cannot stand in the temple of God
and sing with the Hezekiahs and
Isaiahs that “the Lord of Hosts is
with us,*' unless he quits his worldli
ness and turns towards God; unless
he “seeks first the Kingdom of God
and His righteousness,” and unless ho
lives in his life the religion which ho
professes with his lps. The church
cannot claim Its right to these words
if its attitude is not steadfastly to
wards God and away from the allure
ments and enticements of the world;
if it chooses fairs, and suppers, and.
entertainments, and catch-penny af
fairs of every kind to raise money
and interest the people it seeks to
reach, instead of preaching the Gospel
of repentance and salvation, and keep
ing itself unspotted from the world.
The words may be beautifully in- \
scribed upon the walls of a church;
the congregation which resorts thither
may read them over confidently fu>
as 1o arouse a false sense of Divine
nearness and cooperation, but me
thinks in some churches at least there
are social and festival occasions when.
God is very far away, and the Devil
himself makes bold to eome in- and
read over the words and laugh at the
falsehood they express. I
|JOW may we know that “the Lord:
tj of Hosts is with us?” By testing
before God our true attitude towards
Ilim, by searching out underlying mo
tives when exercising the power of
choice, by turning the searchlight of
God’s Word upon our lives and discov
ering the sins of the inner life and
the outward conduct, and by the evi
dences of experience. Having reas
sured the heart by the threefold test
ing that “the Lord of Hosts is with
us,” then with Hezekiah you can con
fidently wait until experience proves
that God was indeed with you. It may
be a long night of anxiety and uncer
tainty, hut the morning light will re
veal the dead Assyrians lying *11
about, and the triumphant shout will
burst over the citadel of the soul:
Surely, “the Lord of Hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuse.”