He came back, told his mamma what he said, and added:  “Mamma, I don’t think she will have any more.”

Now mark how the Lord honored this simple faith of the little child. From that very moment the fits left her.  They never returned; and the child soon entirely recovered.

Notice the full beauty and instruction of these two incidents:  Little Merrill’s life was saved in answer to prayer; was the means of his father’s salvation, and when he in turn had grown to an age when he could learn of God, his own prayer was the means of saving his own sister’s life.

Notice, too, that all earthly available means were used to save each child, but to no effect.  Physicians and parents considered the case hopeless, and then committed it to the decision of God.

Notice, too, that when little Merrill was so sick, that the mother and doctor both prayed, yet it was not until his father had also prayed that the answer came.  God meant to honor the faith of the first two, but was waiting for the prayer of the third ere he granted the request.  That child’s sickness was one of the purposes of God.  Notice in the second case, that while father, mother, doctor, the clergyman, and others of the house were all trusting in prayer, yet the Lord was waiting for the prayer of the little brother, ere he sent the blessing of relief.  Such an incident draws its own conclusion. Never cease in prayer for anything which is to God’s honor and glory.  Use all the possible means to help God.  Where human means are of no avail, commit it to God and wait in humble resignation.  Ask others to pray, too, for the same object, that when the answer comes, God may be glorified before the sight of others as well as your own.  When so many are waiting to see if God will honor his promises, depend upon it, God will be found faithful to all his word.

TRUSTING IN GOD’S PROMISES.

“It was a fierce, wild night in March, and the blustering wind was blowing, accompanied by the sharp, sleety snow.  It was very desolate without, but still more desolate within the home I am going to describe to you.  The room was large and almost bare, and the wind whistled through the cracks in the most dismal manner.  In one corner of the room stood an old-fashioned bedstead upon which a woman lay, her emaciated form showing her to be in the last stage of consumption.  A low fire burned in the large fire-place, and before it a little girl was kneeling.  She had a small testament, and was trying by the dim fire-light to read a chapter, as was her custom, before going to bed.  A faint voice called to her from the bed, ’Nellie, my daughter, read the 14th chapter of St. John for your Mother.’  ‘Yes, Mother,’ was the reply, and after turning the leaves a few moments, the child began.  All that long Winter day that poor mother had been tortured with pain and remorse.  She was poor, very poor,