The Children For Christ by Andrew Murray

for his return arrived, but he did not appear. Hour after hour passed
away, and nightfall drew on, but he came not. The last steamboat
touched the pier, but he was not on board. I walked my room for hours
in prayer, and in great agitation of mind, Keenly did I feel my lonely,
helpless widowhood. Again and again I sought the Lord. After passing
hours in this state of mental anxiety, I sent a brother in search, and
soon after, all made their appearance. He had missed his way. The Lord
heard a mother's prayer, and brought him in safety to me. After all had
retired for the night, I was left alone with God. My mind and heart had
been greatly exercised throughout the day. I felt deeply my helplessness
and responsible situation. I thought, 'How can I, a helpless woman, care
for and train up these children to manhood?' I felt I should sink
beneath the overwhelming conviction of my weakness and
insufficiency. I paced my room in prayer, tried to take hold of a promise;
but all was dark, the present and the future, as midnight. It was late
before I retired to rest. In vain I endeavored to console myself, sleep had
forsaken me. Again I lifted up my heart in prayer. I tried to cease from
thinking, and to close my eyelids, but in vain. All night I continued in
prayer, until just before the dawn of day these words were spoken to my
ear and heart, as if an audible voice had uttered them: '/ will be a Fattier
to thy fatherless children.' I knew this voice, and could make no mistake.
So powerful was it, I instantly replied aloud, 'O Lord, be Thou the Father
of my fatherless, and my God!' Oh, the solemnity of that hour! I felt
God was with me, and my soul was filled with joy and holy reverence.
He had condescended to visit my lone room, and fill it with His
presence. He had come to comfort His widowed child, and I was
comforted. My soul poured out its grateful acknowledgments. I could
adore, and praise, and bless His holy name. A solemn, sacred influence
pervaded the place. God was with me of a truth. Fatigued with the
anxieties of the day, and exhausted with the mental exercises through
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