way on top of the heap. God is going to use you in His work. Just
keep on trusting and don't get discouraged." He always had a word of
cheer, and I thank God that I did trust, and things came out better than
I even thought.

You readers who are just starting out in the Christian life, just let
God have His way. Don't think you know it all. Go right ahead, have a
little sand, and trust Him. He will never leave you, and you will have
the best in this life and in the life to come. It's an everlasting joy,
and isn't it worth working for, boys?

PRAYERS IN A LODGING-HOUSE

I remember, when I knelt down in 105 Bowery beside my cot to ask God's
blessing and guidance, how a laugh used to go around the dormitory.
There were about seventy beds in the place, and it was something unusual
to see a man on his knees praying. But when I started out to be a man I
meant business, and I said I would say my prayers every night. I don't
think God can think much of a man who says his prayers lying on his
back, unless he's sick. I believe God expects us to get on our knees,
for if a thing is worth getting it's worth thanks. I didn't mind the
laugh so much, but I did some: it was sort of cutting. I'm no coward
physically, and can handle myself fairly well at the present time, but
when it came to getting on my knees I was a rank coward.

A lodging-house is a queer affair. Men of all nations sleep there--some
drunk, some dreaming aloud, others snoring. The cots are about two feet
apart--just room for you to pass between them. It takes a lot of grit
and plenty of God's grace to live a Christian life in a lodging-house. I
go in them every day now to look after the other fellow: if he is sick
or wants to go to the hospital I'll see to that; but I never can forget
the time when I was one of those, inmates.

One night I had just got on my knees when boots, shoes, and pillows
came sailing at me; one boot hit me, and it did hurt for fair. Then a
whiskey flask hit me, and that hurt. I was boiling with rage. I got up,
but I didn't say anything; no one would have answered me if I had; they
were all asleep, by the way. We call such business hazing, but it's mean
and dirty.

I went to work as usual the next day, and thought and planned all day
how to catch one of those fellows. I figured out the following plan: I
did not go to bed that night until quite late; the gas was turned down
low, and I made noise enough for them to hear me. When I was ready