"Into the woods my Master went Clean forspent, forspent; Into the woods my Master came Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him; The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came. "Out of the woods my Master went And He was well content; Out of the woods my Master came Content with death and shame. When death and shame would woo Him last From under the trees they drew Him last 'Twas on a tree they slew Him--last When out of the woods He came."[24] True prayer is wrought out upon the knees alone with God. With deepest reverence, and in awed tones, let it be said, that _that was true of Jesus_ in the days of His humanity. How infinitely more of us! Shall we not plan to meet God alone, habitually, with the door shut, and the Book open, and the will pliant so we may be trained for this holy partnership of prayer. Then will come the clearer vision, the broader purpose, the truer wisdom, the real unselfishness, the simplicity of claiming and expecting, the delights of fellowship in service with Him; then too will come great victories for God in His world. Although we shall not begin to know by direct knowledge a tithe of the story until the night be gone and the dawning break and the ink-black shadows that now stain the earth shall be chased away by the brightness of His presence. The Great Outside Hindrance <u>The Traitor Prince.</u> There remains yet a word to be said about hindrances. It is a most important word; indeed the climactic word. What has been said is simply clearing the way for what is yet to be said. A very strange phase of prayer must be considered here. Strange only because not familiar. Yet though strange it contains the whole heart of the question. Here lies the fight of the fight. One marvels that so little is said of it. For if there were clear understanding here, and then faithful practicing, there would be mightier defeats and victories: defeats for the foe; victories for our rightful prince, Jesus. The intense fact is this: _Satan has the power to hold the answer back--for awhile; to delay the result--for a time_. He has not the power to hold it back finally, _if_ some one understands and prays with quiet, steady persistence. The real pitch of prayer therefore is Satanward. Our generation has pretty much left this individual Satan out. It is partly excusable perhaps. The conceptions of Satan and his hosts and surroundings made classical by such as Dante and Milton and Doré have done much to befog the air. Almost universally they have been taken literally whether so meant or not. One familiar with Satan's characteristics can easily imagine his cunning finger in that. He is willing even to be caricatured, or to be left out of reckoning, if so he may tighten his grip.