shall have it, but they fail to appropriate the promise and make it their own. They hesitate to say, "God does just now bestow it, I do receive it," and without this all else is vain. The faith that sanctifies says, "God loves now and gives, I ask now and receive." Sink or swim," it says, "I cast myself on this sea of infinite love and truth."

"

"In all the confidence of hope

I claim the blessing now."

But," says one,

says one, "am I to believe I receive when I feel no change?" The ground of your faith must not be your feelings, but the word of God. What we have to be sure of is that we fulfil the condition on which the promise is made. When we have done this it is our duty to believe that God answers our prayer, according to His promise. This is simple faith. We are not required to know, but to believe. When it pleases God He will give us the joyful assurance that the work is done, but in the meantime we must fix our faith upon the immutable word and keep on insisting that God is true. Faith lets God be true and every man a liar. The Divine order is, first believe, then receive, then know. Those who are waiting for feeling want to reverse this order, they want the evidence first, the blessing next, and the faith upon which it is conditioned, last. But we cannot know that we are cleansed until the experience is an accomplished fact, and that is not possible until we believe. Feeling is not faith, nor is it salvation, nor the condition of salvation. The faith that sanctifies is "a naked faith in a naked promise," which means committing ourselves entirely to God and His promise,

apart altogether from emotion. Feelings often mislead us, but the promise of God is sure. Trusting in the absence of all feeling may seem a risky thing, but many have done it and proved the truth of Whittier's words:

"The foot of faith falls on the seeming void

And finds the rock beneath."

Which is most reliable, the immutable promise of God, or our uncertain emotions? On this point, St. Peter speaks with no uncertain sound. In the first chapter of his Second Epistle he tells how, on the Mount of Transfiguration, he heard the voice from Heaven, he saw the Divine glory, and he felt such delightful sensations that he wanted to build three tabernacles and stay there. But he goes on to say, "We have a more sure word of Prophecy," something more sure than hearing, seeing, or feeling-the Word of God which abideth for ever. It is as though he had said our senses might have deceived us, but the Word of God is as firm as the Throne of the Eternal. We may tremble, but that Rock never will. The Blood of Christ, the veracity of God, yea, every attribute in the Deity, is pledged to the fulfilment of the promise, if we believe we receive, we shall have.

If the Bible is a revelation from Heaven, if there be a covenant of mercy, if there be virtue in the Blood of Christ, power in the Holy Ghost, and truth in God, we shall have the things we pray for, if they are what God has promised to give, and we believe we receive them when we pray.

Said a lady who was seeking the fulness of the

Spirit, to her minister, "I am expecting the Lord will give it me." "When will He give it you?" was the reply. After a moment's pause, she answered, timidly, "I suppose He will give it me now." And instead of wasting her energy in repeated petition she at once definitely accepted the priceless gift. How many are in like manner expecting instead of accepting the gift of God? It is the duty of the Christian not to pray for the accomplished outpouring of the Spirit, but to accept the Pentecostal gift. Waiting is not the connecting link between our emptiness and need, and Christ's boundless fulness and allsufficient supply, but appropriating faith or definite accepting, irrespective of all feeling. As we believe that we receive, God bestows, and then we have what our faith claims.

Some of my readers will remember how the late Samuel Coley describes the memorable service in which he accepted Christ as a Saviour from all indwelling sin. The Rev. Thomas Collins was the preacher. His text was, "Wilt thou be made clean? When shall it once be?" "Unction sweeter than was wont came down as he urged the query, 'When shall it once be?' Then he said, 'The loving Father says, 'Now'; what do you say?' 'Now,' breathed audibly from pew to pew. 'The Son, who gave His cleansing blood, says, 'Now'; what do you say?' At this reiteration of appeal, 'Now' louder and more earnest circled me in answer. The waiting Sanctifier, the Spirit of Holiness, says, 'Now '; what do you say? When?' Twice the response, though it moved my inmost heart, had passed, leaving me

silent; but with the third questioning came a gush of influence irresistible. I could keep my lips no longer, but, like the rest, cried, 'Now!' What is more, and better far, my soul that blessed moment as certainly said, 'Now,' as did my tongue. It was no flash of enthusiasm; it was a work of the Holy Ghost. That 'Now' stirs me yet. Nor ever since that memorable time has my faith dared to procrastinate, or say anything but 'Now' to all the sanctifying offers of the promise-keeping God."

WR

CHAPTER XXII.

Address to Seekers

E do not need to have a complete grasp of the doctrine of entire sanctification in all its relations and bearings in order to enjoy the experience, but if we can have a clear and distinct view of the thing at which we aim it will help us very much to reach it as a definite point of attainment.

In one of the churches of Rome there is a beautiful painting. Those who stand in one position before it always say they see no beauty in it-that it appears like a huge tangled mass. But when the guide leads you to where the light falls properly on the picture, suddenly its wondrous beauty dawns upon you. So it is with holiness. It is only when the Holy Spirit furnishes the light that we see clearly what our privilege is. He only can reveal sin and present the remedy. When we ask humbly and earnestly for His illumination we see clearly the point we are to aim at. He that willeth to do His will shall know of the doctrine."

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