When she sang the last lines he suddenly covered his face, but while she was hesitating how to begin a conversation on another subject, he exclaimed, irritably,— "It's no use trying to make one's self believe what he knows can't be true." "I am sure of that, dear friend." "You, sure? Then how am I to blame for not believing?" "Suppose I was stricken down with want. I was dying of hunger. Just before me there is abundant supply of food, but I can't raise myself to get it; my weakness has rendered me powerless. You come in, and seeing my condition, point to the food. I can't see it, or I can't reach it. 'Try,' you say. I try, but fall back. 'Ask me, and I'll give it to you.' You kindly urge this upon me, but I refuse. 'No, I don't believe it's for me. That food is for somebody else'; and so I lie there and die for want of the food, stubbornly resisting every motive you urge—that it is free to all, the only condition being that I ask for it. "That is a very weak illustration of what we, as sinners before God, do continually. Christ has provided an abundant feast; we are starving for want of that very food. He graciously invites us, 'Come without money and without price,' but we persist in saying, 'I know it can't be true, That food looks inviting, but it is not for me.' Now comes in the gracious Spirit, with His soft, pleading voice. He repeats Christ's words, 'I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.' 'To Him give all the prophets witness, that through His name whosoever believeth on Him shall receive remission of sins,' —shall be welcomed to the feast; and by it be restored to life." One hand covered Mr. Lambert's face, and through the fingers Marion saw the tears trickling down. "I'm tired, perhaps you've stayed long enough," he said softly. She rose at once, gazed in his face, longing to comfort him. "Stop a minute. Pray for a poor old sinner, who has never before had a daughter to comfort him." Her breath almost stopped. "Can I pray before him?" But before he noticed her hesitation she was on her knees at his side. Like a little child, running to his father whose arms were outstretched to fold her in his embrace, so she ran to her Heavenly Father, and told Him all her desires for this dear friend. She asked the Saviour to reveal Himself to the poor, desolate heart, wearied with carrying its burden alone. She pleaded with the gracious, waiting Spirit to help him open his heart to this dearest and truest of friends; that the Holy Spirit would take of the things of Christ, and show them unto him; that, like the man dying of hunger, he might ask for the food from the abundant supply before him, and be filled. Poor Mr. Lambert! He wholly lost control, and, before she rose from prayer, sobbed without restraint. As she took his hand to wish him good by, he looked up into her face with such a pitiful expression that it almost overcame her. "Oh," she exclaimed, "do trust Him! He is waiting for you to say, 'Lord, I believe!'"