trouble."

"Are you sure?" said he, with the deep sweet look I had
noticed. "Do they never come now, in the way of their duty, to
an impassable barrier of danger or difficulty, through which
the same hand opens their path? Did you never find that they
do, in your own experience?"

A little, I had; and yet it seemed to me that a very Jordan of
difficulty lay before me now, rolling in full power. Mr.
Dinwiddie waited a moment and went on.

"That old cry, 'Where is the Lord God of Elijah?' - will bring
down His hand, now as then; mighty to hold back worse waves
than those of the 'Descender.' Aaron's rod, and the blast of
the priests' trumpets, were but the appeal and the triumph of
faith. And before that appeal stronger walls than those of
Jericho fall down, now as well as then."

"Then it must be the faith that is wanting," I said.

"Sometimes" - Mr. Dinwiddie answered; "and _not_ sometimes. That
earnest Sunday-school teacher, who prayed that the Lord would
give him at least one soul a week out of his Bible class, and
who reported at the end of the year, _fifty-two_ brought to God,
- what do you think of his faith? - and his Jericho?"

"Is it true?" I said.

"It is true. What are the walls of stone and mortar to that?