Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

HERE
CHAPTER XII
Shut in, but Almost Out
jT N which the readery being removed
one thousand miles from his nearest
shopy learns lijes greatest lesson^ that the
Infinite God is the God of the Infinitesimal.
it is, on the spurs of the Bunkeya Hills, Mr.
Arnot first built his Mission hut-house, a solid
but not too ambitious structure. And here too
we salute those of " our own company," Messrs. Swan and
Faulknor. Cut oflf from the outside world as they are,
no doubt "the banner over them is love"; but so, too,
there is sadly waving over their little far-away cabin
the yellow flag of quarantine. Faulknor, a shining saint,
has found Africa to be one long hospital of pain. Two
men all alone in the lonely Interior seem a poor, in-
adequate sort of testimony, yet so normally necessary
is it to be mighty in word and deed that the sick man
prayed while the strong man preached, and thus he also
serves who only stands and waits. Certainly in the
mouth of two witnesses, word and deed, every word was
established, for while able Mr. Swan preached Calvary his
good friend Faulknor carried the cross of pain. Bed-