The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-10-06

church and sat at the table of the holy communion. How that scene comes back now, There is the little white church with it's straight backed pews. There is the oh oir loft in which yG<r sister used to sing. There Is the old prayer meeting room below, which was used for the Sunday school before the sunday morning preaching. There were the gravestones you use to play among on week days and try to read the epitaphs on Sunday, when the min ister would persist In praying about everything. from the creation down to the President of the United States and all others in authority
 The Influence of the Holy Spirit.
 If some one should ask you how that revival started you could not answer. Suddenly, without any apparent cause, the power of the Holy Spirit began 10 descend. It was visibly felt through all the country. One Sunday the old minis ter instead of giving out his text. as usual, opened the service in words some thing like these: Brethren, l have tried to write a sermon this week but it has been an impossibility. Every time l en- tered my study the still, small voice of God kept saying: Down on your knees and pray. Pray for my people, Pray. pray, pray!' And. my dear people, dare not dsobey the voice of God. As I have been praying so much for you this week I thought I would turn this morning g service into simple prayer meeting. Then we will meet in the church during the coming week each night, and we shall pray for each other and for our dear ones." You remember how your mouth opened wide with astonishment. As the different people arose one after the other , to pray. you got tired and commenced to wriggle in your seat. But somehow a Cfr of ct NNar 4sDI1 when your dear mother arose to pray. You never heard her pray in public be- fore in your life. But when she com menced with a trembling voice and said. 70 Lord, dear Master. precious Saviour, come into our midst and take these little lambs Into thy arms" you could not keep back the tears. You knew she was pray ing for you.
 Then that ride homel The old rafniiy farm wagon never had a quleter burden to carry than on that day. Even your youngest brother did not try to grab the reins as he so often had done. Your father was quiet; your mother was very quiet. She always did speak those words, My dear" sweetly, but she never spoke them so tenderly as on that day Then at the dinner, when your father tried to ask the blessing he broke down. You never saw him cry like that but once since. and that was when you led him away some years later from your sisters open grave. And then that afternoon-it was the longest afternoon you ever spent. Elizabeth went to her room. And your mother went to her room. Though they were each alone when you went near to their doors. you could hear them talking. They were not alone They were talking to God about you. Then you went out to the barn, and there you found your father. He was on his knees praying What were they all praying about? And then you went to your room. As you closed the door you just dropped down by the bed and began to sob and cry. You kept saying, 70 God o God O God!' You could not get any further. But sud- denly you felt an arm about your neck. No one but she could have touched you like that. But as she said 70 Lord, hear my boys prayer." a wonderful scene took place. Like Peter, you seemed to be upon the housetop of Joppa. But, un- like Peters vsion,a the vision you saw was only Chrsts glory. It shone about your head. It crept into your heart. It rang from your lips. Whether you were in the body or out of the body you could not tell. But one fact you do know, Christ had revealed Himself to you by your mothers side. He came and touched you. Are you today living up to the divine call of that glorious revelation?
 
 Many years ago a young Scotch girl gave her heart to God at one of George Whitfeld's meetings. Some one asked her, My dear is your heart changed?" and she answered: Some thing l know is changed. It may be the world. It may be my heart. l am sure, for everything is different from what it once was" Thus was 1t with you on that Sunday afternoon. You arose from your knees and gave your heart to God. Oh, Christ was so diff ferent. The love of your father and mother and sister was so different Your own purposes of life were so dif- ferent You were, like Cowper, filled with holy ecstasy because you were surrounded by divine revelation. Yet, alas, alas, how soon we have descend ed from the heights of our mounts of transhguration!
 But there was another wonderful manifestation in our spiritual lives. That was when we left home and started out in the world to make our own living. Somehow when we were in the old homestead we felt q good deal like the bather who is swimming inside the life line down at the great ocean. The waves rear themselves and move on toward the shore You can see them begin to gather their gigantic strength out at wonder sand bar They come rolling on, higher and higher. un- til they cover their heads with foam. Then they tumble down upon us and roll us upon the beach. We laugh and shout and make merry Why? Be- cause we feel there Is no danger any where around. In the first place, if the waters drag us out. there is the life saving man on the beach, With his corsets of cork about him and his long saving line attacked to the belt. He will plunge in after us. and friends on the shore will get hold of the line and pull both of us out from the angry surf.
 Outside the Life Lines.
 How safe. one feels when bathing in the ocean inside of the life lines! We feel a great deal like the little chickens playing around the barnyard. within call of the cucking hen. If anything goes wrong they can run and find shell ter and safety under the mothers wing. So with the old homestead There we always felt safe. If any thing went wrong we could always run to father and mother and find help and strength. But when the bather goes beyond the life lines then he is taking his life in his hands. And when we leave the old homestead then wo must meet our struggles and tempta- tions alone.
 First Night Away From Home.
 Have you ever seen your feelings bet ter portrayed than in the great picture Lavender painted, called The Breaking of Home Iies?" I have a fine copy of