Quiet Talks by Samuel Dickey: Gordon, Samuel Dickey - Quiet Talks with World Winners: 105. Unseen Changes Going On

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Quiet Talks by Samuel Dickey: Gordon, Samuel Dickey - Quiet Talks with World Winners: 105. Unseen Changes Going On

TOPIC: Gordon, Samuel Dickey - Quiet Talks with World Winners (Other Topics in this Collection)
SUBJECT: 105. Unseen Changes Going On

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Unseen Changes Going On

All this praying makes a difference at the other end, the place toward which it is directed. Things in Tokyo are made different. The copy of a Gospel that some native in India is reading becomes a plainer book to him because of this praying. Your prayer is a spirit-force travelling instantly through the distance between you and the place you are praying for. And things occur that otherwise would not.

Opposition lessens. Difficulties give way. The road some man is travelling clears and brightens. The truth on the printed page stands out in bigger letters. The health renews. The sickness or weakness gives way to a new health and strength. The judgment steers a straight course. The purpose holds its anchor steady. The man rides the rough seas of temptation safely.

Things are happening. And they are happening because some scarcely noticed young fellow hammering a barrel-head and marking the shipping directions, and some typewriter chopping her machine, are praying in the quiet time, and are praying softly in the undercurrent of their scarcely thought-out thoughts.

"Oh, if our ears were opened

To hear as angels do

The Intercession-chorus

Arising full and true,

We should hear it soft up-welling

In morning's pearly light;

Through evening's shadows swelling

In grandly gathering might;

The sultry silence filling

Of noontide's thunderous blow,

And the solemn starlight thrilling

With ever-deepening flow.

"We should hear it through the rushing

Of the city's restless roar,

And trace its gentle gushing

O'er ocean's crystal floor;

We should hear it far up-floating

Beneath the Orient moon,

And catch the golden noting

From the busy Western noon;

And pine-robed heights would echo

As the mystic chant up-floats,

And the sunny plain resounds again

With the myriad mingling notes.

"There are hands too often weary

With the business of the day,

With God-entrusted duties,

Who are toiling while they pray.

They bear the golden vials,

And the golden harps of praise,

Through all the daily trials,

Through all the dusty ways.

These hands, so tired, so faithful,

With odors sweet are filled,

And in the ministry of prayer Are wonderfully skilled.

"There are noble Christian workers,

The men of faith and power,

The overcoming wrestlers Of many a midnight hour;

Prevailing princes with their God,

Who will not be denied,

Who bring down showers of blessing

To swell the rising tide.

The Prince of Darkness quaileth

At their triumphant way,

Their fervent prayer availeth

To sap his subtle sway.

"And evermore the Father

Sends radiantly down

All-marvellous responses,

His ministers to crown;

The incense cloud returning

As golden blessing-showers,

We in each drop discerning

Some feeble prayer of ours,

Transmuted into wealth unpriced,

By Him who giveth thus

The glory all to Jesus Christ,

The gladness all to us!" (Frances Ridley Havergal