On such a night as this the little group may have sat in the vale of El Makhna in quiet talk at supper-time.
The same stars looked down on him as they did on those others two thousand years ago. How real and true it all seemed here! How much easier it was to realise and believe than in Chancery Lane!
Why did men live in cities?
Was it not better far for the soul's health to be here alone with God?
Here, and in such places as these, God spoke clear and loud to the hearts of men. He shuddered as the thought of his own lack of faith came back to him.
In rapid review he saw the recent time of his hopelessness and shame. How utterly he had fallen to pieces! It was difficult to understand the pit into which he was falling so easily when Basil had come to him.
Now, the love of God ran in his veins like fire, every sight and sound spoke to him of the Christus Consolator.
It was more than mere cold belief, a love or personal devotion to Christ welled up in him. The figure of the Man of Sorrows was very near him—there was a great fiery cross of stars in the sky above him.
He entered the little tent to pray. He prayed humbly that it might be even thus until the end. He prayed that this new and sweet communion with his Master might never fade or lessen till the glorious daylight of Death dawned and this sojourning far from home was over.
And, in the name of all the unknown millions whom he was come to this far land to aid, he prayed for success, for the Truth to be made manifest, and for a happy issue out of all these afflictions.
"And this we beg for Jesus Christ, His sake."
Then much refreshed and comforted he emerged once more into the serene beauty of the night.
