As young Leonard Dober lay tossing on his couch, his soul was disquieted within him {1731.}. He had heard strange news that afternoon, and sleep forsook his eyes. As Count Zinzendorf was on a visit to the court of Christian VI., King of Denmark, he met a West Indian negro slave, by name Antony Ulrich. And Antony was an interesting man. He had been baptized; he had been taught the rudiments of the Christian faith; he had met two other Brethren at the court; his tongue was glib and his imagination lively; and now he poured into Zinzendorf's ears a heartrending tale of the benighted condition of the slaves on the Danish island of St. Thomas. He spoke pathetically of his sister Anna, of his brother Abraham, and of their fervent desire to hear the Gospel. "If only some missionaries would come," said he, "they would certainly be heartily welcomed. Many an evening have I sat on the shore and sighed my soul toward Christian Europe; and I have a brother and sister in bondage who long to know the living God." The effect on Zinzendorf was electric. His mind was full of missionary visions. The story of Antony fired his zeal. The door to the heathen world stood open. The golden day had dawned. He returned to the Brethren at Herrnhut, arrived at two o'clock in the morning, and found that the Single Brethren were still on their knees in prayer. Nothing could be more encouraging. At the first opportunity he told the Brethren Antony's touching tale. Again the effect was electric. As the Brethren met for their monthly service on "Congregation Day" they had often listened to reports of work in various parts of the Continent; already the Count had suggested foreign work; and already a band of Single Brethren (Feb. 11th, 1728) had made a covenant with each other to respond to the first clear sound of the trumpet call. As soon as their daily work was over, these men plunged deep into the study of medicine, geography, and languages. They wished to be ready "when the blessed time should come"; they were on the tiptoe of expectation; and now they were looking forward to the day when they should be summoned to cross the seas to heathen lands. The summons had sounded at last. To Leonard Dober the crisis of his life had come. As he tossed to and fro that summer night he could think about nothing but the poor neglected negroes, and seemed to hear a voice Divine urging him to arise and preach deliverance to the captives. Whence came, he asked, that still, small voice? Was it his own excited fancy, or was it the voice of God? As the morning broke, he was still unsettled in his mind. But already the Count had taught the Brethren to regard the daily Watch-Word as a special message from God. He consulted his text-book. The very answer he sought was there. "It is not a vain thing for you," ran the message, "because it is your life; and through this thing ye shall prolong your days."