The Zeit-Geist | Page 8

a drug that is given to him in dilution.
At the end of the sermon there was a great call made upon all who
desired to give up their sins and to walk in God's strength and
righteousness, to go forward and kneel in token of their penitence and
pray for the grace which they would assuredly receive.
This public penance was a very little thing, like the dipping in Jordan.
It did not seem little to Toyner. He was thoroughly awake now, roused
for the hour to the power of seeking God with all his mind, all his
thought, all his soul. The high tide of life in him made the ordeal
terrible; he tottered forward and knelt where, in front of the rostrum,
sweet hay had been strewn upon the ground. A hundred penitents were
kneeling upon this carpet.
There was now no more loud talking or singing. Silence was allowed to
spread her wings within the woodland temple. Toyner, kneeling, felt
the influence of other human spirits deeply vivified in the intensity of
prayer. He heard whispered cries and the sound of tears, the prayer of
the publican, the tears of the Magdalene, and now and then there came
a glad thanksgiving of overflowing joy. Toyner tried to repeat what he
heard, hoping thereby to give some expression to the need within him;
but all that he could think of was the craving for strong drink that he
knew would return and that he knew he could not resist.
He heard light footsteps, and felt a strong arm embracing his own
trembling frame. The preacher had come to kneel where he knelt, and
to pray, not for him, but with him.
"I cannot," said Bart Toyner, "I can't, I can't."

"Why not?" whispered the preacher.
"Because I know I shall take to drink again."
"Which do you love best, God or the drink?" asked the preacher. "If
you love the drink best, you ought not to be here; if you love God best,
you need have no fear."
"God." The word embodied the great new idea which had entered
Toyner's soul, the idea of the love that had power to help him.
"I want to get hold of God," he said; "but it isn't any use, for I shall just
go and get drunk again."
"Dear, dear fellow," said the young preacher, his arm drawing closer
round Bart, "He is able and willing to keep you; all you have to do is to
take Him for your Master, and He will come to you and make a new
man of you. He will take the drink crave away. He knows as well as
you do that you can't fight it."
"I don't believe it," said Toyner.
Then the young preacher turned his beautiful face toward the blue
above the trees and whispered a prayer: "Open the eyes of our souls
that we may see Thee, and then we shall know that Thou canst not lie.
Thy honour is pledged to give Thy servants all they need, and this man
needs to have the craving for drink taken out of his body. He has come
at Thy call, willing to be Thy slave; Thou canst not go back on Thy
promises. We know Thou hast accepted him, because he has come to
Thee. We know that Thou wilt give him what he needs,"--so the short
sentences of the whispered prayer went on in quick transition from
entreaty to thanksgiving for a gift received. Suddenly, before the
conclusion had come, Bart stood up upon his feet.
"What is it, my brother?" asked the preacher. He too had risen and
stood with his hand on Toyner's shoulder.
They were alone together, these two. The great crowd of the

congregation had already gone away; those that remained were each
one so intensely occupied with prayer or adoration that they paid no
heed to others.
"I feel--light," said Toyner.
"Dear fellow," said the preacher, "the devil has gone out of you. You
are free now because you are the slave of Christ. Begin your service to
him by praising God!"
Toyner stayed a week longer in the place, lodging with the young
preacher. Day and night they were close together. A change had come
to Toyner. It was a miracle. The young preacher believed in such
miracles, and because he believed he saw them often.
Toyner trembled and hoped, and at length he too believed. He believed
that as long as he willingly obeyed God his old habits would not
triumph over him. The physical health which so often comes like a
flood and replaces disease at the shrines of idol temples, of Romish
saints, or, at the many Protestant homes for faith-healing, had
undoubtedly come to Bart Toyner. The stomach that had been