Mr. D.L. Moody relates the instance of a poor little cripple, whose prayers were answered to the conversion of fifty-six people.
"I once knew a little cripple who lay upon her death bed. She had given herself to God, and was distressed only because she could not labor for Him actively among the lost. Her clergyman visited her, and hearing her complaint, told her from her sick bed she could pray; to pray for those she wished to see turning to God. He told her to write the names down, and then to pray earnestly; he went away and thought of the subject no more.
"Soon a feeling of religious interest sprang up in the village, and the churches were crowded nightly. The little cripple heard of the progress of the revival, and inquired anxiously for the names of the saved. A few weeks later she died, and among a roll of papers that was found under her little pillow, was one bearing the names of fifty-six persons, every one of whom had in the revival been converted. By each name was a little cross by which the poor crippled saint had checked off the names of the converts as they had been reported to her."
Please God, Give Us A Home.
Mr. Moody tells of a beautiful answer to the faith of a little child.
"I remember a child that lived with her parents in a small village. One day the news came that her father had joined the army (it was the beginning of our war), and a few days after, the landlord came to demand the rent. The mother told him she hadn't got it, and that her husband had gone into the army. He was a hard-hearted wretch, and he stormed, and said that they must leave the house; he wasn't going to have people who couldn't pay the rent.
"After he was gone, the mother threw herself into the armchair, and began to weep bitterly. Her little girl, whom she taught to pray in faith, (but it is more difficult to practice than to preach,) came up to her, and said, 'What makes you cry, mamma, I will pray to God to give us a little home, and won't He?' What could the mother say? So the little child went into the next room and began to pray. The door was open, and the mother could hear every word.
"'O, God, you have come and taken away father, and mamma has got no money, and the landlord will turn us out because we can't pay, and we will have to sit on the door-step, and mamma will catch cold. Give us a little home.' Then she waited as if for an answer, and then added, 'Won't you, please, God?'
"She came out of that room quite happy, expecting a home to be given them. The mother felt reproved. God heard the prayer of that little one, for he touched the heart of the cruel landlord, and she has never paid any rent since."
God give us the faith of that little child, that we may likewise expect an answer, "nothing wavering."