Conviction and Conversion
Called from a milk pail, on a Canadian farm, to the preaching of the Gospel from a world pulpit.
How strange the words look, now that they have been set down on paper! Yet, that is exactly what has happened to the writer in her life and make her wondrous dealings of the Lord giving that others may know the wondrous dealings of the Lord in her life and make her Saviour theirs.
My earliest childhood recollections are associated with good, old fashioned hymns and Bible stories. Daniel in the lions' den, the three Hebrew children in the fiery furnace, and other Bible stories were so interwoven in my life that by the time I was five years of age, I could have repeated them word for word as they had been told to me.
Some time after entering public school, however, I learned that it was not popular to talk of Jesus Christ. Any other topic of conversation might be dwelt upon at length but the moment one mentioned the name of Jesus or talked of His salvation, they were looked upon with curiosity or ridicule. As years went on, I became an elocutionist, reciting in school and church entertainments, of which we had not a few. Dialogues, charades, and small plays were given by our nearby Methodist church and tickets of admission were sold to the same, "to help poor God pay the mortgage on His church."
Such skillful training in elocution and acting in our small plays were we given in our church work that several of "we girls" contemplated entering the stage—so turned were our silly heads by the applause of the people. Two of these girls followed the urge.
High above them stretched the glorious Milky Way—and yonder state, arose the silver disk of the moon. Surely, surely the science troubled me for the first few moments after I had entered the building until my eyes having become accustomed to the gloom, the first person whom I recognized, seated directly across the aisle, was my Sunday-school teacher. If the church people and Sunday-school teachers attended theatres, it must surely be all right for me!
The reading of novels, the attending of worldly entertainments and participation in fancy dress and ice skating carnivals followed one after the other.
Then came my first dance—a High School ball it was, at my school in the five-mile-distant town. Arrayed in a new ball-gown and slippers, I set forth smiling and radiant without, but secretly troubled within, until I had my first dance. Then I had no more trouble—how could there be any harm in dancing?
About this time there was introduced into our High School a book called "Physical Geography" which set forth theories regarding the formation of the earth, stars and moon that would ignore the hand of God in creation and explain all scientifically. It dealt also with the process of evolution and explained to us that man was formed from animal life, etc., so plausibly that I began to lose faith in the God of whom my minister spoke as a myth and an influence who was intangible, unreal and whose word was not infallible. Thus it was that at the early age of seventeen, believing that if the Bible were capable of telling one lie, it could readily tell more, I became practically an infidel.
However, I was not satisfied with my conclusions, and not at all happy. At times I was overwhelmed with disturbing doubts one night, while being beaten by such a storm, I went into my room, determined to settle the question once and for all in my own mind.
I kneeled at my open window. As I looked out upon the white night, clad in a soft mantle of snow, the whole floor of heaven seemed ablaze with stars, just outside my window the apple trees were encrusted in ice, shimmering like diamonds in the night. High above them stretched the glorious Milky Way—and yonder resplendent through the heavens, like a great silver ship of state, arose the silver disk of the moon. Surely, surely the mighty hand of a great Creator must be behind them all!
"O God—if there be a God—reveal yourself to me," I prayed sincerely, God always answers.
My prayer was answered within forty-eight hours.
The next afternoon father called for me with the sleigh. As we rode down the main street on our way out of town, I noticed a sign over a big storeroom announcing that "Revival services" were being held within.
Turning to father, I remarked: "Let's go in there some time. I hear they have a great time, speak out in services and do all kinds of things."
"We'll drop in tonight on our way to the town hall," father answered.
He was to bring me in that night to a rehearsal of a benefit performance to which I had contributed a skit, "written and directed by Miss Aimee Kennedy, who also plays the leading role."
So, on our way to the rehearsal we "dropped" into the revival. I was hunting what amusement the services might provide me already aimed at my heart.
Sure enough the people said "Amen" and "Hallelujah" and I tried to smile, but when a tall young evangelist, Robert Semple by name, arose to his feet on the platform and opened the Word of God to preach, all frivolity died from my heart and face. There is one thing about a Pentecostal meeting: you cannot be long in attendance without having learned at least one thing about the Bible and that is that there is a second chapter to the book of Acts. I learned it in my first meeting. The speaker took as his text the 38th verse "Repent, and be baptized every one of you for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. For the promise is unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call." He talked as though he really believed the whole Word and I realized that the great need of the Comforter as He sweetly spoke "Repentance" a life free from the world of sin, pierced my heart with conviction. When he spoke of the baptism of the Holy Spirit coming upon the believer today in the identical manner in which this self-same experience, the hand of the Lord laid hold upon me. Suddenly in the midst of his sermon he spoke a few sentences in other tongues as the Spirit gave him utterance. To me it was the voice of God, "the sign to the unbeliever."
"Let's go daddy, quickly," I whispered, perturbed.
How I ever got through the rehearsal that night I never was able to tell.
Then for three days I battled with such a conviction as I believe few have known.
At the end of that three days, I was driving home from High School. 'Twas a lonely country road, the woods stripped of their leaves and laden with snow stood bleak and gaunt on one side, the remains of last season's corn fields the other—even now I can visualize the scene. At last the burden was more than I could bear, and throwing up my hands I cried aloud: "Lord, God—be merciful to me, a sinner." Immediately my burden was gone; I was a new creature in Christ Jesus; old things had passed away, and involuntarily I began to sing: "Take my life and let it be, consecrated Lord to Thee. Take my lips and let them sing always only for my King." Gone, of course, was the worldly song. "Take my hands and let them move, at the impulse of Thy love," therefore, there was no more worldly instrumental music to be played. "Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee." Gone was the dance hall and all that it represented. A new day had dawned, my feet were set upon a land highway, a road that led from earth to glory, through a land brimful with new desires. I seemed to be living in a new world, with new desires, new thoughts and a new perspective of life. The Bible was under my pillow in the place where the novel used to be. I could truly say the things that I once loved I now hated, and the things which I once hated I now loved.
BAPTISM OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
As I continued to attend the services in the little Mission, I learned that there was more, yes, oceans more ahead for me. The latter rain was falling on the earth. The Lord was baptizing the saints with the Holy Ghost and fire just as He did on the day of Pentecost and I became a diligent seeker for this gift, which my Bible told me would endue me with power for service.
So intensely hungry for this baptism of power, so engrossed in seeking the face of the Lord I became, that upon several occasions I "skipped school" to attend cottage prayer-meetings and wait upon Him.
Reports as to my having attended the little Mission and as to my having neglected my school, reached my parents' ears, coupled with several criticisms of the meetings. The very people who had lauded and encouraged me in my elocutionary, theatre-going, dancing and worldly life, were now greatly alarmed because I was spending my time on my knees praising the Lord, and warned that these people would certainly cast some spell over me if I were not kept out of these meetings. One morning I went in to school on the train because the country roads were completely blocked by one of our Canadian storms. The snow plow on the front of the engine had much difficulty getting through, and as I was late for school, and this might be my last opportunity to attend the tarrying meetings, I decided not to go to school at all that day, but make the most of my time seeking the baptism.
Christian workers began to pray that the Lord would provide some way so that I would not have to go home until I received my baptism, and the Lord answered prayer. Bless His name! The blizzard increased in fury until the railroad track was so blocked as fast as it was shoveled out the Lord filled it with mountains of snow, until before night all thoughts of getting through while the storm lasted were abandoned.
The following two days I made a business of seeking the Lord, only stopping long enough for a little food and sleep. Friday night I waited before the Lord until midnight. Saturday morning I got up at break of day and going into the parlor of the lady's home where I was staying I kneeled down at a large morris chair in the corner with a real determination in my heart. You ask if I was not afraid of getting a wrong spirit or being hypnotized. There was no such fear in my heart; I trusted my Heavenly Father implicitly, according to Luke 11. I opened my Bible to this passage and ye shall receive; seek and ye shall find;" and assures that "Every one that asketh receiveth", also that if we ask for bread He will not give a stone. I was assured that the Lord was not bestowing serpents or scorpions on His blood-washed children when they asked for food. Had He not said that if your earthly fathers know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more would our heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him? So having all confidence that God would give me exactly what I sought in desperate earnest.
After a time I ceased to beg the Lord to baptize me and realized that I was not waiting for Him but that He was waiting for me. He bade me stop asking and begin receiving, stop begging and enter into the gates of praise. So I begin to praise Him and the words: "Glory! Glory to Jesus!" arose from my heart. The more I praised my Lord, the nearer, the dearer, the more inexpressibly real He became. My soul was swept up on clouds of glory into the immediate presence of the Lord. Oh, how I loved Him, how I adored and magnified His worthy name, promising to give Him my life, my love, my all, even as He had given Himself for me. Each moment I could feel myself drawing nearer, nearer into the heavenly gales of His glory: then slipped to the floor prostrate at His own dear feet.
"Oh, Master, I love Thee" my heart cried out. "Take me, use me, have Thine own way with this poor life of mine; I am only a school girl, dear Lord, I live on a Canadian farm but such as I am I give myself to Thee. Oh, Jesus, let me be an empty vessel in Thine own hand and pour me out upon the dry and thirsty land!"
As I lay prostrate at His feet, billow after billow of indescribable glory rolled over my being till my poor heart was times the whole floor in front of the altar ws covered by the slain of the Lord. Amongst those seeking the baptism of the Spirit was a minister and a doctor of that city. One evening, being tired from my duties, I had hardly gotten settled down to rest, when I heard the big bass voice of the minister shouting, "Glory! Glory! Glory!" and I bounded off the couch and to go and see if he was receiving the Holy Spirit, rejoicing that my prayers were being answered.
In running swiftly down the long flight of stairs, I tripped and, my ankle bending back under me, fell from the middle of the stairs all the rest of the way to the bottom. I could hear the bones crunch under me as I fell. Up to this time, having always enjoyed the best of health, I had never had occasion to take the Lord as my own personal Healer, although I had witnessed many wonderful healings. Now as the saints gathered about me and prayed, I must confess that my mind was more occupied with the pain and excruciating agony of my broken foot than with the Healer. Consequently I was not healed that night.
The doctor examined my foot and said the bone was not only cracked, but that in wrenching my foot backwards in my fall, I had completely severed four of the ligaments of my foot that move the toes.
As soon as the swelling had been reduced sufficiently to permit a plaster of paris cast to be put on, Dr. Harrison and his son, who was also a practicing physician of that city, set the bone and drew the bent foot back into place, and put on a heavy cast. The doctor explained to me that the torn cords could not grow together, and that my ankle would therefore always be stiff, but by keeping the plaster cast on for four weeks, till thoroughly healed and straight. They both warned me not to touch my foot to the floor, or put any weight upon it. A pair of crutches were purchased for me, and by their aid I went hobbling to the train that was to take us back to Chicago.
Trembling with excitement and joy, it took me fully five minutes, with help, to remove the plaster of paris cast.
The infidel who was present said: "Don't be foolish; leave it alone, you will only have to pay a doctor three dollars to replace the cast." But, glory to Jesus! I was healed. At last the heavy plaster cast was removed, the absorbent cotton came off, my over my black and swollen toes, which was all I could see of my foot, a voice spoke to me and said: "If you will wrap the shoe for your broken foot, and take it with you to wear home, and go over to the North Avenue mission to Bro. Durham, and ask him to lay hands on your foot, I will heal it."
The idea of wrapping up a normal condition, struck me so humorously with my foot in a normal condition, struck me so humorously that I laughed the thought away; but again and yet again came the Word says: "My sheep hear my voice." And I, knowing my other shoe, wrapped it up, and, with it tucked under my arm, started clumsily down the winding stair-case to go to the mission for prayers.
On the way over, my crutch slipped through a hole in the wooden sidewalk, and, as my toes struck the hard boards, the perspiration stood in beads upon me from the excruciating pain. As I reached the foot of the steps to the mission, I was trembling and white with pain. I felt unequal to climbing the stairs on my crutches, so two of the brothers put me on a chair and carried me up. There were twelve in the room beside myself. I told them what the Lord had told me, and all but one began to pray.
The one who did not pray was an infidel, a brother of our pastor. As the pastor was walking up and down the room calling on the Lord, he suddenly stopped and, laying his hands on my ankle, I suddenly felt as if a shock of electricity had struck my foot, and flowed through my whole body, causing me to shake and tremble under the power of God. Instantly my foot was perfectly healed. The blackness was gone, the parted ligaments were knitted together, and the bone was made whole. Glory to Jesus! I was healed.
Trembling with excitement and joy, it took me fully five minutes, with help, to remove the plaster of paris cast.
The infidel who was present said: "Don't be foolish; leave it alone, you will only have to pay a doctor three dollars to replace the cast." But, glory to Jesus! I was healed. At last the heavy plaster cast was removed, the absorbent cotton came off, my stockings on, also the tight-fitting shoe, which fitted perfectly now, and I leaped to my feet and danced for joy on the healed foot. Everyone in the room was filled with the Spirit and we all rejoiced together. Hallelujah!
Suddenly remembering that my husband would be coming on the next elevated train, I ran down the stairs, my crutches left behind, ran all the way to the station, and told the wonderful news. My ankle was as strong as ever.
CALL TO FOREIGN FIELDS
Shortly after my return to Chicago, and the miraculous healing of my ankle, just related, my husband and myself were made to realize in a very definite way that the time had come for us to obey the call to foreign fields, which had been coming stronger and stronger for some time. Farewelling in Chicago, we went to Canada, holding revival meetings in different towns and cities in Ontario. After the last meeting was closed in Toronto, where many were baptized in the Spirit, we boarded the train for St. Johns, N.B., and, as the train pulled out of the Union Depot, we heard the sweet voices of the saints singing, "God be with you till we meet again." Leaving St. Johns, we set sail for Liverpool, England; from there we went to the Belfast mission.
In Belfast, Ireland, the Lord sent a wonderful revival. In three weeks over two score were baptized in the Holy Ghost, and all spoke in other tongues. In attending services in London, England, the Lord poured out of His Spirit, saving and baptizing souls. Great hospitality and love were shown us by all the saints.
At last the day of our departure was at hand, and, after a season of rich blessing, the saints stood on the wharf waving and singing, as far as we could see them from the ship, as she gathered speed, to carry us towards our destination, Hong Kong, China.
At last, after weathering a severe typhoon, we saw in the early morning sunrise, the mountain of Hong Kong, and beheld the harbor with its innumerable, busy sampans. We were met by other missionaries and, with beating hearts, gazed with fascination at the field of our future labors. In China we found the Latter Rain to be falling on the earth as well as in America. When Chinese receive the baptism they speak in tongues, just as did the hundred and twenty on the day of Pentecost. The sick are healed and lepers cleansed. Hallelujah!
In China, as never before, I felt the need of the Holy Spirit and of the Comforter. I went through billows and oceans of sorrow, and even in the valley and shadow of death, when my dearest and nearest was laid to sleep in Jesus, I found the Comforter to be very real and near to me in sorrow's darkest hour.
THE DEATH OF MY HUSBAND
At this time my husband seemed drawn nearer and nearer to the Lord each day, and spent hours in prayer, day and night. He really travailed in spirit for the Chinese, and often said that he felt he was going to rise to meet the Lord from China, carrying precious Chinese souls in his arms to Jesus. The intense heat and unsanitary condition of the country in which we dwelt began to tell upon our health. Malaria was raging, and to go out even for five minutes at noonday without a cork helmet and heavy parasol meant almost certain death. We were away down the coast at Macao, when my husband was taken seriously ill, and was carried in a very weak condition back to Hong Kong and up the mountain to an English hospital, built especially for missionaries, where care was given free of charge. A well-worn Bible, the one from which he preached under conviction, explained the way of salvation, and the Baptism of the Spirit, was my husband's constant companion in the week that ensued. Each day he grew weaker, and, although I was confident the Lord would heal him, he felt that his work was ended, that "he had fought a good fight and finished his course, that henceforth there was laid up for him a crown of righteousness."
One evening, at the end of the week, the doctor gave me special permission to sit with my husband, and, as my heart leaped with joy at the prospect, little did I dream the reason for this special kindness. As I sat there by his bedside a great lump in my throat seemed to be choking me as I gazed at the thin, pale face so change, I tried in a pitiful way to talk cheerfully of the soon coming of the little one we had both planned and longed for so long. As we were talking thus, I heard the click of the white-robed nurse's heels as she came down the long ward to tell me it was time for me to go back to my own ward. Oh, I shall never forget the sweet smile that lit up his countenance; yet some way a terrible premonition of some sorrow befalling me, an idea vague and unformed, seized upon my heart, and, as I clung to the white enameled bar at the foot of his bed, I heard the last words he ever spoke to me: "Good-night, dear; I will see you in the morning." And I am sure he will.
I returned to the women's ward with an uneasy feeling hard to describe, and lay for hours staring out into the darkness, listening to the irregular breathing of the other patients about me.
At midnight I sat up in bed with a start. Out of the window at the foot of my bed I could see across the great square court into the window, which I knew to be beside my husband's bed. There I saw a bright light burning. A great terror seized upon me, and with a tense catch in her voice, she told me to slip on my kimono and slippers and hurry to the next ward.
"Come quickly! He is sinking fast," were the words that sounded in my ears like a death knell, as we hurried down the long passage—to what? Death? Oh, surely not; it couldn't be, I reasoned. I had never seen anyone die. I was not yet twenty years old, and was on the opposite side of the globe from those who had always shielded and protected me from every wind that blew. Dying? Impossible! Why, what of the little one that was to come? All these thoughts raced like lightning through my mind. I was as one dazed.
Then, as I stood by his bed, and saw that, unconscious as he was, the light of the glory world illuminated his face, I sank down in a heap at the side of the bed and clung to his cold hand. Then, at that moment, when all the world seemed to be crumbling and slipping from beneath my feet, the Comforter, the Blessed Holy Spirit, whom Jesus had sent, rose up within me and revealed Jesus in such a precious way, made the will of God so sweet, showed the prepared mansions so real, that there, by the death-bed of Robert Semple, from whom I had never dreamed of parting, the Blessed Holy Spirit, the Comforter, enabled me to say: "Glory to Jesus! The Lord gave and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!"
When I felt the doctor shaking me by the shoulder, I raised my head from the bed, loosened my clasp on the dear, cold hand, and I realized the great need of the Comforter as He sweetly spoke "He is not here, he is risen."
O, dear friend, never again say you have no need of the Comforter, whom Jesus sent. Not only in the hour of rejoicing and of strength, but in the hours of darkness and deep sorrow, you need the Comforter. Hallelujah!
Down in the valley and shadow of death, you, too, may know the Comforter. Hallelujah!
Morning after morning of the month that followed I would awaken with a scream as my great loss swept over me, as I thought of the little one who would instantly spring up within me. Then came the little daughter, a tiny little mite of a thing, but oh, such a comfort! Here again the Comforter was with me. I named the little one Roberta, after her father Robert, fatherless, I never seen her. It was in Hong Kong, on the top of the mountain, that my tiny little daughter was born, and when she was six weeks old, I sailed to San Francisco, feeling my first duties was to her, as she could not live in China.
Arriving in America, I was made glad by the report of the wonderful outpouring there. In Chicago, Illinois, we were welcomed by all the saints and were soon again engaged in home missionary work.
About a year and a half after this, having been nearly six years in the work, traveling, and putting up with all the hardships of evangelistic life, a great longing for a home of my own came over me.
It was at this time that I married and settled down to furnish a comfortable home. I was like Jonah running away from Ninevah, and enjoyed about as rough a passage when I tried to get out of the evangelistic work and settle down to domestic life. In the flesh, I was weary of having no home or abiding city. We engaged a modern flat, and I settled down to enjoy a comfortable passage from Joppa to Tarshish. All the time I heard the call, clear and distinct as Jonah did, "Preach the Word."
I became lukewarm, then cold in my experience, and discovered that there is no such thing as standing still; that we are either going backward or forward. I was going backward, decidedly. Not but that I loved the Lord. I had the "I sleep, but my heart waketh" experience. The pleasures and cares of this world came crowding in till I discovered I was losing my first love. Then came sickness. Inside of one year I underwent two serious operations. It seemed there was not a sound part left in my body. I had no chance to enjoy my comfortable home, except what little I could see from my pillow.
For a year I grew weaker and weaker. At times, it seemed I would lose my reason. The hand of God was heavy upon me, and His voice was clear and strong, "Now will you go and preach the Word?" It rang continually in my ears. The Lord refused to heal me. When I prayed for deliverance, all the answer I received was: "Now will you go?" At last, when taken off the operating table more dead than alive, vomited up by the whale, I answered the call and said, "Yes, Lord; I'll go."
From that moment I began to improve, and in a few weeks was up and well. Too weak to argue the point, I packed my suitcase and, with my two babies, set out for Canada and home. There I was packed off to a nearby camp-meeting, where I got back to the Lord and the fullness of the Spirit.
(This and other experiences are set forth in detail and as interestingly and clearly as I know how in my new book "In The Service of The King." If you have not read it, I hope you will enjoy it as much as many of our friends say they have.—A.S.M.)
WORK IN CANADA
I was then called to Mount Forest, a little town in the same part of Ontario. In this town there was only one sister who had received the baptism of the Holy Spirit, and was standing for the Latter Rain truths. I began to preach under the anointing of the Spirit, and the little hall was filled. Lawn meetings were held to accommodate the crowds, as it was noised abroad that the Lord was healing the sick.
The town crier, who rang a bell up and down the main street of the town, advertising the theatres and ball games, had been afflicted for a year. Various doctors had tried and failed to heal him. He was miraculously healed, and advertised his healing about town as faithfully as he used to advertise theatres and ball games. The doctor and his old barroom companions were astounded at the miracle God had wrought. Many were baptized in the Spirit, and the curiosity-seekers and earnest people increased in numbers till the Lord led us to purchase a large second-hand tent to accommodate the large crowds.
My husband was with me for a time now, saw me preaching under the mighty anointing of the Holy Spirit and declared he felt he would not like to give up his activities to accompany me. So I went on preaching alone, while he returned to his business.
WE DWELL IN TENTS FOR TWO YEARS
My next revival campaign was held in Providence, R. I. After much earnest prayer and sacrifice I was enabled to purchase a new tent which was made by a tent concern of that city. Through some delay the tent was not ready for delivery upon the announced date for the opening of the campaign and the company gave us an old weather-worn tent for use during the time of its completion. Being new in the mysteries of tent location and erection, we knew no better than to pitch it on the top of a hill overlooking the river. The result was that the early autumn squalls sweeping the town, I was awakened by a most terrifying ripping, crashing sound. Springing up from the soldier's cot in my tent, the heavy tread and needles and after hours of toiling in the bright sunshine, the rent was again up, just in time for me to wash and dress and conduct the afternoon meeting.
But in a couple of days, the tent was again leveled to the ground by the strong wind which blew each night. Again I toiled and sewed with bleeding fingers under the sun, and again the tent was up. The fourth time the tent went down I was left to erect it alone but the Catholic neighbors who had heretofore stood aloof came to my assistance. The next time, however, it was torn beyond repair. What should I do? It seemed as though Satan were working from every angle to discourage me. To "give up" never entered my head. Then a happy thought came to me and with the aid of a little boy about twelve years of age, I took down all of our small sleeping tents—ten in number—carried and placed them end to end, drove the stakes with a sledge hammer while he held them for me, and erected the tents. From under the wrecked canvas of the main tent we dragged the benches and put them in their places, strung the electric wires and were ready for the night meeting in a tent whose exact dimensions were 10X120—if you can imagine such a tent. But the tent was full, praise the Lord, and I took for my text: "The ax did swim."
I relate these incidents in passing that prospective evangelists, who gaze upon our work at beautiful Angelus Temple today, may be encouraged to start at the bottom, weather the gales and sail through troubled seas with colors flying. Then came a tent campaign in Onset Bay, Cape Cod, and a glorious revival in Corona, Long Island, wherein Pastor W. K. Bouton, of the Free Gospel Church, and many scores of his congregation received the Pentecostal baptism of the Holy Spirit, Acts 2:4. Also many wonderful healings were wrought by Jesus. One poor cripple, paralyzed, and hopelessly deformed, was carried to the church in a cab, and, in answer to prayer, she left her crutches and walked up and down praising God. When, upon her return home, her non-believing mother saw her walking into the house without crutches, she fell on her knees on the sidewalk and praised God. Others were healed of ear and eye trouble. So it is that the Scripture is literally fulfilled which says: "These signs shall follow them that believe." Praise God!
Next we sailed to Jacksonville, Fla., in whose sunny climate we would be enabled to use our tents throughout the winter months.
In Corona, Long Island, God had so wonderfully moved in saving, baptizing and healing power, that the grateful people had given us a splendid offering with which we were enabled to ship our camping paraphernalia, buy lumber for new seats, install electric lights, advertise, etc. The day before the meeting opened, however, I had but 5 cents left. A colored lady begged for her poor children. I gave her the nickel and told her we were expecting a box of clothing to arrive for the poor from the church where I had been holding meetings in Corona. After she had thanked me and taken her departure, an automobile load of workers arrived from Atlanta, GA., stating that they had come to attend the meeting and that they were very hungry. A broad hint that I should hurry and prepare the supper.
I did not tell them that I had run short of funds and that the cupboard shelves (I mean the packing boxes used for a cupboard) were empty. Passing into my little tent, I kneeled upon the ground, which was my only floor for two years, and rolled my burdens on the Lord. I told Him that if it were His will to send some supper, we would be very grateful, if not, then we would be pleased to fast and pray for the success of the campaign. I arose from my knees and went back to the tabernacle to join the guests. Just at that moment I heard a big voice saying: "Whoa there—back up!" 'Twas an expressman who carried in the box of clothing from Long Island. When I opened it, joyously remembering that I could now supply the poor colored sister, I found cans of corn, peas, salmon, tomatoes, a box of rolled oats, sugar, condensed milk, salt, crackers, in fact almost everything one could think of which could possibly be needed for supper, breakfast and dinner the next day until time for the opening of the evening meeting. Hallelujah! He who had fed Elijah, had sent our supper from the other side of New York City clear to Jacksonville, Fla., and had it there just-as-the-clock-struck-six.
In Tampa, Durant, St. Petersburg, Miami, Key West, and Orlando, Fla., we conducted tent campaigns during the two winters, then up the coast to Long Branch, N.J., Huntington, Long Island, Wooster, Mass., Hyde Park, Boston, Washburn, Me., Concord, N.H., Savannah, Ga., Pulaski and Roanoke, Va., Hartford, Conn., New York City and New Rochelle, N.Y., and Philadelphia, Pa. We were led by the hand of the Lord and He graciously poured out His Spirit upon us, bringing many hundreds into the Kingdom and baptizing them with the Holy Ghost and with fire. To this day we are constantly meeting Christian workers who gave their hearts to the Lord or received the enduement of power from on high in these years of strenuous camping and bearing the cross alone.
TRANSCONTINENTAL AUTO TOUR TO CALIFORNIA
Some time previous to the nation-wide camp-meeting conducted in our large tent in Philadelphia, Pa., the Lord had laid it upon my heart to drive my automobile from New York to Los Angeles preaching the Gospel, distributing tracts and witnessing for Christ as we went. It was in New Rochelle, N.Y., however, where in the midst of the campaign, my precious daughter, Roberta Star, was stricken with influenza which quickly developed into double pneumonia, bringing her to the point of death, that the Lord made His dealing and leadings to California most definite.
With an aching heart, I had returned from that afternoon service, to our cold and comfortless furnished room to be met with the words: "Roberta is unconscious and sinking very fast." Taking one look at her flushed little face, I ran into my own room, fell upon my knees and began to weep, crying:
"Oh, Lord, You took Robert—but, please, please don't take Roberta. Oh, Lord, I haven't much else and I do need her so much."
"Do not cry. Your little girl will live and not die, and moreover, I will give you a bungalow for her in sunny California where your little ones can go to school and experience the joys of real home life, instead of enduring sacrifices and hardships and being knocked about the country constantly from place to place."
Oh, the joy that filled my soul, the burden was lifted. Rising from my knees I entered the room in which my little daughter lay; two brethren had prayed for her and she was better. Kneeling by her side I buried my face in the pillow, close to her hot cheeks, she was now conscious and I said:
"Oh, Roberta, the Lord has spoken to Mother, You're going to get better, darling, and what do you think! The Lord is going to give us a lovely bungalow in California where you can go to school."
Opening her little eyes wider, she asked in a thin, wavery voice:
"Mama! Mama, do you s'pose I could have a canary bird, too?"
"Yes, yes, my darlings, I am sure that you could," I replied in the affirmative. I was very happy and my faith was very big at that time. But later after we had set out on our transcontinental trip and, having driven many hundreds of miles, my little ones who tired would comfort one another with the words:
"Cheer up, brother; Cheer up, sister, we's going to have a bungalow when we gets to California," the devil would assail me with doubts, saying: "Now who do you think is going to give you a bungalow in California, you do not know one person there," but I would answer: "Get thee behind me, Satan," and clinging to the steering wheel the tighter.
'Twas a long and seemingly endless road. I drove mile by mile the winding road from coast to coast accompanied by my family, a stenographer and a host of angels who guarded us on the way. Meetings were held in Tulsa, Okla., thousands of tracts and pieces of Gospel literature were given out en route and at last we reached Los Angeles. Here meetings were soon under way and the Lord poured out His Spirit in copious showers from on high. The buildings soon grew too small and Clunes Auditorium, seating 3500, was engaged for the larger meetings.
One evening, just before I arose to preach, a young woman sprang to her feet in the audience, crying: "Excuse me, please, but I just must say a word. I am only a working girl but I own a piece of vacant land. The Lord has spoken to me that I am to give one of these lots to Mrs. McPherson that on it she may build a little bungalow for her babies."
"Why praise the Lord—how wonderful!" "I'll dig the cellar for you," volunteered a stalwart man, rising in the congregation.
"Yes, an' I'll help yez," came the voice of an Irishman from another part of the building. "I'll put in the foundation," volunteered another. "I'm a lather and plasterer. I'll give my services free" offered another. "I'll furnish the dining room," said a kindly-faced man from over there.
"I have not much to offer when compared with these people," said a timid little voice from the rear of the hall, "but I have the sweetest-singing little canary bird that you ever heard. I'll give that for the little girl."
THE CALL TO BUILD A HOUSE UNTO THE LORD
Returning to the "little grey home in the west" between each series of campaigns, to mother my babies and care for my publishing work, I often wondered just why the Lord had set the little home down in this far off part of the country making the home journeys each so very long. Then it was that gently the Lord began to bear the message to my heart that the coming to California had had a deeper underlying purpose in His blessed will than that of which I had yet dreamed. He reminded me of a text which He had given me to preach on my arrival in Los Angeles, namely: "Shout, for the Lord hath given you the city." Then He bade me build a house unto the Lord—erect a temple as a base for evangelistic work and a spiritual home whereunto thousands might flow for salvation, the sick might come for healing, and the hungry believers might receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit before returning unto their own special fields of labor with blazing torches with which to kindle the flame on cold altars.
I was definitely led to an especially beautiful property with a circular frontage, facing the entrance of peaceful Echo Park. Surely no other piece of land or other location could have been so ideally located—near the center of the city—adjacent to the principal car lines, yet so restfully quiet and apart. The placid lake, the shady trees, the fountain, also the picnic tables, stoves, rest rooms, made the park an ideal place for our congregations to spend the hours between the services in meditation and prayer, as well as providing every possible comfort and convenience for the many sick and afflicted who come for blessing and the healing touch of the Great Physician.
Real Estate agents declared that it was not for sale. We knew immediately that God had been reserving it for us. Sure enough a "for sale" sign was set up within a few days by the rich owner who had suddenly decided she was "land poor."
There was erected what has become one of the greatest centers of revivalism in the world, beautiful Angelus Temple, the great Bible School, the Administration building, a wonderfully appointed book and publication building. Now we even have our own Foursquare Summer Camp and winter camp.
Our gospel has been flung to the ends of the earth under the label of the Foursquare Gospel. That name came to me some years ago while I was preaching in Oakland, and it since certainly has become famous.
It is the old gospel, the true gospel, the Word of God. The four phases of the Foursquare Gospel are: Jesus Christ, the Saviour; Jesus Christ, the Baptizer with the Holy Spirit; Jesus Christ, the Great Physician; and Jesus Christ, the Coming King.
In California, Oregon, Washington, Illinois, Texas, New York, Arizona, Iowa, in fact, in nearly every state in the Union and in Canada and in the British Isles and on the Continent. Hundreds of thousands of people everywhere now worship under the Foursquare banner. This last year has left church people of other denominations, and non-church goers, open mouthed in wonder at the avalanche of churches and people into the Foursquare fold.
Indeed God is blessing us mightily and we are all working at top speed to prepare for His coming. We thank Him for His goodness this year, and we pray that His word may lighten every nook and corner of the universe shortly. Missionaries are going out from our work to all continents and souls are being reaped.
So, the work goes on; the Lord takes care of His children. It's
—THE FOURSQUARE GOSPEL AROUND THE WORLD.