It was at this time I formed a habit of getting a message for a meeting on my knees. It often seemed to me very wonderful how, as in a flash, sometimes, an outline for a talk on China would come. Never having kept notes, nor even outlines of addresses, I have frequently been placed in circumstances when I have felt utterly cast on the Lord. And I can testify that he never failed to give the needed help, and the realized divine power. Yet sad, sad is it that often at just such times, no sooner would the address be ended than the Satan-whispered thought would come, "I have done well to-day." Oh, is not the goodness and forbearance of our God wonderful; wonderful that he ever again would deign to give help when asked for it? * * * * * A short time since I asked a dear friend whose writings have reached and inspired multitudes throughout the Christian world: "How did you do it?" Softly, with deep reverence in look and tone, she replied: "It has been done all in and through prayer!" With deepest gratitude and praise to our ever faithful God, I too can testify that any little service I have been able to do has been done by his grace in answer to prayer. "I stood amazed and whispered, 'Can it be That he hath granted all the boon I sought, How wonderful that he for me hath wrought!' * * * * * * Oh, faithless heart! _he said_ that he would hear, And proved his promise, wherefore didst thou fear? How wonderful if he should fail to bless Expectant prayer with good success!" VIII OUR GOD OF THE IMPOSSIBLE "Behold I am the Lord, . . . is there _anything_ too hard for ME?" (Jer. 32:27.) "Ah, Lord God! there is _nothing_ too wonderful for thee" (Jer. 32:17, margin). THE following illustration of the truth, "What is impossible with man is possible with God," occurred while we were attending the Keswick Convention in England, in 1910. One evening my husband returned from an evening meeting, which I had not attended, and told me of a woman who had come to him in great distress. She had been an earnest Christian worker, but love for light, trashy fiction had so grown upon her as to work havoc in her Christian life. She had come to Keswick three years in succession, hoping to get victory, but had failed. My whole soul went out to the poor woman; I longed to help her. But Mr. Goforth did not know her name, and the tent had been so dark he could not recognize her again; besides, there were about four thousand people attending the convention. That night I lay awake asking the Lord, if he knew I could help her, to bring us together, for I, too, had at one time been almost wrecked on the same rock.