"'I am, I am thy Comforter. Know whom thou art, afraid of a dying man, and of a son of men who wither like grass: and thou forgettest God thy Maker, the Maker of the heaven and Foundation-Layer of the earth, and fearest ever, every day, the face of the fury of thine oppressor.... And now, where is the fury of thine oppressor?'"
"Did the good God speak to you in vision, holy Mother?"
"No, Helena. He spake to me as He does to thee—in His Word."
I thought it would have been a great deal more satisfactory if she had been told in vision.
"But how do you know, holy Mother," I ventured to say, "that words written in holy Scripture, ever so long ago, have something to do with you now?"
"God's Word is living, my child," she said; "it is not, like all other books, a dead book. His Word who is alive for evermore, endureth for ever. Moreover, there is a special promise that the Holy Spirit shall bring God's words to the remembrance of His servants, as they need. And when they come from Him, they come living and with power."
"Then you think, holy Mother, that the Paynim will be driven back?"
"I do not say that, my child. But I think that the God who turned back Sennacherib is alive yet: and the Angel who smote the camp of the Assyrians can do it again if his Lord command him. And if not—no real mischief, Helena,—no real harm—can happen to him or her who abideth under the shadow of God."
"But we might be killed, holy Mother!"
"We might," she said, so quietly that I looked at her in amazement.