HOLY zeal! Unbounded enthusiasm! Intense fervor for the souls of lost humanity!
ITH MY CALL AND CONSECRATION came the question: From whence was the opportunity to enter Christ's service to arise; where the gateway that opened into the harvest field? Again God was true to His Word: “Before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hea
Robert Semple, the evangelist under whose ministry I had been saved and filled with the Holy Spirit, had terminated his revival campaign in our town of Ingersoll, Ontario, Canada, and moved on to Stratford but he continued to encourage and instruct me in the Lord by written correspondence. Never before nor yet since that time has it been my privilege to read such letters as those that came from the pen of this saintly man of prayer; they seemed to be alive, as I read them, with the power of the Spirit and the atmosphere of heaven!
One night, the sister in whose home I had received my baptism asked me to please come and nurse her two little children stricken with typhoid fever. The mother was fatigued with long care and ceaseless vigilance and needed attendance herself. I busied myself industriously about the home, after tend. ing to the little ones and seeing them safely tucked in for the night, Suddenly the door swung open
"Oh, how do you do, Reverend Semple!” I exclaimed in surprise. "I thought you were in Stratford.”
“That I was, and what an outpouring God is giving us
= 46 there! But, I heard the children in this home were ill so I came over to sit up with them and pray for their recovery.”
“But—that’s what I’m doing!”
“Well, then,” he said, looking at me with those wide, Irishblue eyes of his, and smiling, “we'll both sit up with them!”
Mr. Semple prayed for the little ones, earnestly asking:
“O Lord, Thou blessed Prince of Peace, give rest to these, Thy children. Touch them, calm their raging fever as Thou didst still tempestuous Galilee!”
The assurance of his deep confident voice seemed to hallow the room! The sleeping children lay quietly upon their beds and tossed no more.
Rising quietly from the bedside he smiled, indicated silence with finger to lips, dimmed the bright lamp and motioned toward the lighted dining-room beyond.
We tiptoed out quietly.
“Now tell me,” he began, as he drew up a chair for me at the table, “how have you been; how is it with your soul? I'm awfully glad to see you again.”
Glad to see me! Was there—was there really a note of happiness in his voice?
How competent, how wonderful he looked! My heart swelled within me as I thought of the blessed joy and peace of Christ that this man had brought to me through his ministry, calming the fevered restlessness of unbelief, pointing the way to faith and trust. I thanked him for the inspiration and encouragement of his letters and informed him with not a little pride that I had looked up and read every scripture reference which he had outlined.
“Now tell me what you've been doing in Stratford,” I concluded. “How have your mectings been; has the Lord really been blessing there as you expected and prayed He would?”
His eyes glowed and his voice rang with the indomitable force of a soul winner! “Wonderful meetings! The hall has been packed to capacity, and the altars have been wet with penitents’ tears every night!”
As he told of particular instances of needy souls who found Christ as their personal Saviour, I listened enraptured, my eyes closed, visioning him standing in the pulpit proclaiming the gospel message that had changed the course of my life!
4g - THE STORY OF
LIFE
“Oh!” I interrupted, “how glorious! How wonderful it is to be a soul winne
Picking up one of the children's geography books that lay on the table, he pointed to a map of the Orient:
“See, there is Hongkong, China; I am going there as a missionary!”
Fascinated with the thought of a life of such Christian service, I suddenly burst forth with my pent-up hope and dreams that even I might be a winner of souls for the Master. Telling him how I had sat for hours at the piano, playing and singing the old hymns of consecration, I said, “Oh, Reverend Semple, what a blessed privilege it would be to bear the light of the gospel into the darkest corners of the heathen lands!”
Putting the school book down on his lap, he reached over, covered my hands with his strong capable hand and said softly:
“Aimee, dear, will you marry me and go with me to China? I love you with all my heart.”
My heart stood still for what seemed an age, and then started pounding like a trip-hammer!
“Just a minute now, dear,” I dimly heard his voice above the beat, beat, beat of my heart, “before you answer, let us kneel in a word of prayer and ask our heavenly Father's will in the matter.”
Robert did the praying, as we knelt side by side, hand in hand; I couldn't pray for reason of the lump in my throat, but I closed my eyes very tightly. The room seemed filled with angels who lined either side of a golden, sunlit path of life stretched away into the vista of the future of glorious love and joyful service—a path that led to the city of the King,—and there was I, walking hand in hand with Robert!
T opened my eyes, the picture faded, and there was nothing but the wall-paper and the sofa beside which we were kneeling, Quickly I closed them again. There was the same pathway, but this time there was only one figure. I was walking steadily into the light, as before, but I was alone! F
I did not know the meaning of that picture then—and even if I had understood fully, I would still have whispered “yes” to Robert and “yes” to God!
There was great activity in and about the Canadian farmhouse! Bowers of goldenglow graced the yard like heaps of sunshine, The jonquils and hydrangeas nodded knowingly to each other. Long tables were placed and leveled beneath the fragrant apple trees, whose boughs were weighted down with luscious fruit. The grapevines were so laden with clusters that they must needs be propped up; the corn was bowed to the earth with the burden of full ears, and the wheat had ripened into golden fruition! Oh, that my life of service might be as bounteous!
There were hours of being fitted. Friendly, fussing hands working diligently here and there, plying the humming sewing machines upstairs, polishing the silverware in the pantry, whipping, churning and beating butter, cream, and eggs that were destined for delicate puddings and cakes! There was the distant protest of perishing chickens, and the bustle of stuffing soft feathers into silk-encased pillows!
There were silver cakes, gold cakes and angel food cakes!
There was the tinkle and clink of neighbor chinaware which came to supplement our own, and knives, forks and spoons as well, with tiny colored identification threads tied around them!
Then came the arrival of wedding presents which were placed in a room in stately grandeur,—a horn-handled carving set, a cutglass and silver cruet, salt, pepper, vinegar and mustard jars of the latest improved shapes and sizes, cookie jars and hand-painted plates, and tablecloths and doilies!
The wedding garments were all laid carefully upon the bed in the spare room. The traveling suit, trunks, and suitcases were all in their places...
*
Amid a shower of rice and roses Robert and I finally broke away from the scene of festivity, and drove to the railroad station in a gaily beribboned carriage, drawn by prancing, satinsheened horses! The sun dipped momentarily behind a cloud, as we rode along, and a honeymoon came smiling through!
“Mrs. Robert Semple,” I murmured shyly to myself, holding tightly to his hand. Then— “Wasn't the bower of flowers wonderful?” I asked enthusiastically.
“I did not notice it much, dear,” he replied gravely.
‘Why, Robert! The neighbors worked for hours on that! Didn't the bridesmaids do well, and wasn't the flower girl pretty?”
"M-m-m. I don’t remember having noticed them particularly, darling
Weren't the tables beautifully decorated, and the gifts gorgeous?”
“I am sure it was all wonderful but I never found an opportunity to really observe them, sweetheart.”
Why, Robert, where were your i “They were on you, dear. I saw nothing and no one but you!” *
Happy days followed,—days brimful of service in the vineyard of the Lord,—days that were a medley of tinkling pianos, chiming out revival melodies, singing voices, clicking train wheels, glad receptions and sad farewells as we traveled from city to city, conducting campaigns.
During the course of our evangelistic travels, the Lord impressed it upon our hearts to journey to Chicago and attend the meetings of a certain Rey. Durham. The teaching and edification, as well as many interesting experiences that were ours in the little North Avenue assembly, meant much to me in the years which followed. It was there the Lord gave me the gift of interpretation!
One day, while praying by my bedside, I began to speak in other tongues, as the Spirit gave utterance through me. Imagine my amazement when I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I could understand the words that the Spirit was speaking. He described the glorious morning when the mists should be rolled away, the breaking eternal dawn over the hills, the nearness of His return in the clouds of glory. His glory, beauty, majesty and kingly garments were pictured in wonderful language. When the power was finally lifted, I felt as though I had had a foretaste of heaven!
That same evening, while listening to Rev. Durham bring a message in tongues, I felt the power of the Holy Ghost begin to flow through my own person in great billows of glory. The moment the Spirit ceased speaking through him I felt a great drawing to spring to my feet and give the interpretation, but held back timidly. However in the next meeting wherein a message in tongues was given, I yielded to the Spirit, afraid to quench His workings further, and was amazed to discover how easy it was to let the Spirit have His way; I had nothing to do with it at all, but to merely open my mouth and let Him speak through me! Meeting after meeting thereafter, the Spirit gave through me the interpretation to many a message.
It was while attending services at Findlay, Ohio, some time later, that the Lord took me a step further in my Christian experience, and I learned to trust Him as my Physician, as well as Saviour and Baptizer with the Holy Ghost.
One evening while resting in an upstairs room of the mission in which the meetings were being conducted, I heard the people begin shouting in the tarrying service below. Bounding from the couch on which I was lying, I started down the long flight of stairs to see if the minister for whom we had been praying so long was finally receiving his baptism. In my eagerness I tripped and fell, toppling all the way from the middle of the stairway to the bottom. As I lay there, helpless, I realized my ankle must either be badly sprained or perhaps even broken. Quickly the saints gathered round and offered prayer, but the pain was too great and my faith exceeding small.
A Christian doctor, who had likewise been tarrying for the baptism in the same meeting, examined my foot, giving the discouraging verdict that not only was the bone cracked but four ligaments were torn and completely severed, pulling my toes back and under so that they pointed towards the heel!
When the swelling had reduced sufficiently, Dr. Harrison set the bone, drew the foot back into place, and put it in a heavy plaster cast. He explained, when he had completed the operation, that, while the bone would doubtless knit together again the torn cords could not, and my ankle would always be stiff. I was given the small encouragement that, by keeping the cast on for four weeks till the ankle was fully healed, my foot would at least be straight if not flexible. A pair of crutches was purchased, and by their aid I went hobbling to the train that was to take us back to Chicago!
The afternoon we arrived in the windy city I attended services in the missior 2 my tired, aching, feverish foot on the platform. Of course every jar of the floor sent stabbing pains through my leg, and so finally, sick with despair and suffering, I left the meeting and retired to my room, one block away While sitting the f over the black and swollen toes, which were all I could see on my foot, a voice within my soul distinctly said:
““If you will wrap the shoe for your broken foot and go back to the mission and ask Rev. Durham to pray for you, tak ing the shoe with you to wear home, I will heal you!”
At first the idea of wrapping up a shoe to wear on a foot that was broken and encased in a plaster cast struck me as being very humorous, and I laughed the thought away. But the inward voice seemed so insistent that I finally reached for my crutches, hobbled over to my other shoe, wrapped it up, and with it tucked under my arm, started clumsily on my way to the mission.
I reached the mission in a dazed and trembling condition, for along the way my crutch had slipped through a hole in the wooden sidewalk, causing my sensitive toes to strike the hard boards, and the perspiration to stand in beads on my forehead as a result of the pain which shot through my body!
To the twelve assembled in the little room above the mission I recounted what God had told me. Rev. Durham began pacing back and forth, praying silently to himself. Suddenly, he stopped, laid his hands on my ankle, and cried with a loud voice
"In the name of Jesus, receive your healing
It felt as though a shock of electricity struck my foot and flowed through my entire body! Immediately I knew I was healed. Trembling with excitement and joyous faith I tore tically at the plaster cast, leaped to my feet and began to k around the room praising the Lord!
Of course the news was quickly spread abroad throughout the community, and that night the mission was filled to capacity. The pastor requested that I step to the platform and testify. When the saints who were familiar with my former
, commiserating with mys condition saw that I could now walk without cast or crutch they shouted and rose with one accord offering praise unto the Lord for His goodness and mercy!
Since that time the power of divine healing has been manifested again and again in my own life and in the lives of those for whom I have had the privilege of offering the prayer of faith, * Shortly after our return to Chicago and the miraculous, instantaneous healing of my broken ankle, Robert put his arm around me one day and said:
“Darling, I feel the time has come for us to leave for China.”
“Tam ready, Robert—anywhere in all the world with you.”
Straightway he began to bid farewell to the people in the various churches and missions where he had been preaching, telling them about his call and desire to leave as soon as possible for the scene of our future work.
I played the piano and testified in the meetings. Robert was the preacher and I the minister's wife. As he would stand on the platform, impressively preaching in the blazing glory of his message, I would sit in the audience and pray and offer encouragement.
Through those early days of farewelling, however, now and again a doubt would creep into my heart, and I would say:
“Robert, doesn’t it cost a great deal to go to China? Have we the money, dear?”
“When God calls, He provides the means,” was all that he would say in reply.
“But don’t you think you should do something about it— tell the people, or ask them for money, or something?”
“My dear,” he would answer, “have you not yet learned the lesson of faith? If God has truly called a person to a certain place He will provide the means of getting there! One might even be tested in that he arrive at the dock without seeing his passage, but someone will come and place the money in his hands before the gang-plank is pulled up!”
I shall never forget the night when we were bidding goodby in a large Italian church which had been founded and brought into fruition mainly through our ministry, What wonderful people they were, and how they did love Robert.
At the close of his sermon, the members of the congregation asked if they might come, one by one, and personally shake hands with us before we departed. Robert stood on the platform, and I stood in the right-hand aisle as the long procession came down it, up across the platform, and down again along the other aisle.
Now, Italian folk, like their sunny clime, are warmhearted and at times demonstrative! The ladies, as they passed by, kissed me, which, of course, was according to custom. But before I realized his intention an Italian brother planted a resounding kiss upon my cheek, much to my consternation, saying "God bless you, sister! God bless you!" Yh!" I exclaimed, stepping around the other side of the chair, "Why—why the Lord bless you, too, brother,”
Every one that passed gave us what they termed a “green handshake,” leaving money in our hands; but after that incident I took care to shake hands over the chair!
I had a sinking sensation as I glanced up at Robert. I imagined he was looking straight down at me! How should I ever explain to him? He was of strict Presbyterian upbringing, and might not understand
At last the meeting was over and we were on our way home. Walking down the street to the elevated railway, I stole a sideways look at Robert and noticed that he seemed rather troubled and kept his eyes ahead constantly.
“R-Robert,” I stammered, swallowing hard, “there is something I want to say to you.”
"Yes, dear,” he replied, “and there is something I want to say to you!”
“But, Robert, I—— “Just a moment, darling. I must get this off my mind first,” he interrupted. "This evening while I was shaking hands with those dear people, the men were at times quite emotional, and some of them kissed me on the cheek. And then the first thing
I knew, before I had the slightest warning, an Italian lady leaned over and kissed me also!”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, “Thank the Lord!”
He looked at me in surprise and I found courage to relate my own experience. Laughingly we continued homeward, our pockets lined with money which, coupled with other offerings that came in from later meetings, provided our fare to China!
Not many days later we left Toronto and sailed from St. John, New Brunswick, for Liverpool, with passage booked from there to north Ireland where Robert's Scotch-Irish parents lived.