lendidly negative, "He is NOT far from every one of us," he eluded the
comfort and went back to the old question, "What is Truth? How can one
prove what is Truth?"

There is an Indian story of a queen who "proved the truth by tasting the
food." The story tells how her husband, who dearly loved her, and whom
she dearly loved, lost his kingdom, wandered away with his queen into
the forest, left her there as she slept, hoping she would fare better
without him, and followed her long afterwards to her father's court,
deformed, disguised, a servant among servants, a _cook_. Then her
maidens came to her, told her of the wonderful cooking, magical in
manner, marvellous in flavour and in fragrance. They are sure it is the
long-lost king come back to her, and they bid her believe and rejoice.
But the queen fears it may not be true. She must prove it, she must
taste the food. They bring her some. _She tastes, and knows._ And the
story ends in joy. "Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good." "If any
man will do His Will, he shall know."

We got closer in thought after this. For the Oriental, a story is an
illuminating thing. "I have sought for the way of truth," he said, "and
sought for the way of light and life. Behind me, as I look, there is
darkness. Before me there is only the Unknown." And then, with an
earnestness I cannot describe, he said, "I worship Him I know not, _the
Unknown God_." "Whom, therefore, ye worship, though ye know Him not, Him
declare I unto you." One could only press home God's own answer to his
words.

One other verse held him in its power before I went: "I am the Way, the
Truth, and the Life." With those two verses I left him.

It was evening, and he stood in the shadow, looking into it. There was a
tangle of undergrowth, and a heavy grove of palms. It was all dark as
you looked in. Behind was the shrine of the demon steeds, the god and
his wife who ride out at night to chase evil spirits away. Near by was
an old tree, also in shade, with an idol under it. It was all in shadow,
and full of shadowy nothings, all dark.

But just outside, when I went, there was light; the soft light of the
after-glow, which comes soon after the sun has set, as a sign that there
is a sun somewhere, and shining. And I thought of his very last words to
me, but I cannot describe the earnestness of them, "_I worship the
Unknown God_."

Friends, who worship a God whom you _know_, whose joy in life is to know
Him, will you re