humble people, with great claims, have often got the ear and the
approval of the wise and powerful, as instruments of Almighty
Providence. When Moody and Sankey first preached in London, it was the
Lord Chancellor and Lord Chief-Justice--who happened to be religious
men--that, amid the cynicism of ordinary men of rank, gave them the most
encouragement, and frequently attended their meetings.

And the voices which inspired the Maid of Orleans herself,--what were
these? Who can tell? Who can explain such mysteries? I would not
assert, nor would I deny, that they were the voices of inspiration. What
is inspiration? It has often been communicated to men. Who can deny that
the daemon of Socrates was something more than a fancied voice? When did
supernatural voices first begin to utter the power of God? When will the
voices of inspiration cease to be heard on earth? In view of the fact
that _she did_ accomplish her mission, the voices which inspired this
illiterate peasant to deliver France are not to be derided. Who can sit
in judgment on the ways in which Providence is seen to act? May He not
choose such instruments as He pleases? Are not all His ways mysterious,
never to be explained by the reason of man? Did not the occasion seem to
warrant something extraordinary? Here was a great country apparently on
the verge of ruin. To the eye of reason and experience it seemed that
France was to be henceforth ruled, as a subjugated country, by a foreign
power. Royal armies had failed to deliver her. Loyalty had failed to
arouse the people. Feudal envies and enmities had converted vassals into
foes. The Duke of Burgundy, the most powerful vassal of France, was in
arms against his liege lord. The whole land was rent with divisions and
treasons. And the legitimate king, who ought to have been a power, was
himself feeble, frivolous, and pleasure-seeking amid all his perils.
_He_ could not save the country. Who could save it? There were no great
generals. Universal despair hung over the land. The people were