On Saturday morning about sunrise I was on a straw stack in the barnyard with a long hay-knife cutting across the stack to loosen the straw to feed the cattle. While thus working and in a despondent, meditative mood, wondering what I could do, there seemed suddenly to float out before me in the air in illuminated letters, "John three sixteen." I began to read, "God so loved the world." I reasoned then that God so loved me that "he gave his only begotten Son." All was clear thus far. Then I came to that all-inclusive word, "whosoever." I stopped at "whosoever" and recalled the story I heard of Richard Baxter, who said, "I would rather have the word 'whosoever' in John three sixteen than have Richard Baxter, for then I should at once be tempted to believe it was for some other Richard Baxter." I reasoned, "I know that my name is in that 'whosoever.'" I then read on--"believeth on him." "Do I believe on him?" This was the next question to be settled. During several years I had, in competition for a Sunday-school prize, recited the whole four Gospels. In thought I ran over what the New Testament said about Jesus and cried out, "I believe every word of the gospel; Lord, I do believe." Then I read on--"should not perish." Quick as a flash I saw the weak place in my faith. I had been believing on Jesus, but feeling that I should perish. At that point I sprang to my feet on the straw stack and read it over again--"Should not perish, but have everlasting life." Then I saw that through doubt I had treated the promise as though it read "should perish and not have everlasting life." I cried out, "Lord, I will reverse it no longer. I will believe it as it reads." Then I seemed to have another inspiration. I had long been troubled about understanding what it meant to believe. I had worked out a theory that if I could for a moment forget everything else in the world and see Jesus on the cross, that would be "exercising saving faith"; and when praying, I would find myself trying to do that. I now asked myself this question: "How do you believe your mother's promise?" The answer was at once, "I believe because I believe in my mother, the promiser." The next moment I realized that believing Mother's promises was not a mental effort and struggle such as I had been going through for years, but a mental rest. I just believed that her promise was true without any effort whatever, not because I felt it, but because Mother made it. Then I cried, "Jesus made this promise, and I believe it."