se, "the lord of the
harvest." It caught fire in my heart at once. "Oh! there is a _Lord_ of
the harvest," I said to myself. I had been forgetting that. He is a Lord,
a masterful one. He has the whole campaign mapped out, and each one's part
in helping mapped out too. And I let the responsibility of the campaign
lie over where it belonged. When night time came I went to bed to sleep.
My pillow was this, "There is a _Lord_ of the harvest."

My keynote came to be _obedience_ to Him. That meant keen ears to hear,
keen judgment to understand, keeping quiet so the sound of His voice would
always be distinctly heard. It meant trusting Him when things didn't seem
to go with a swing. It meant sweet sleep at night, and new strength at the
day's beginning. It did not mean any less work. It did seem to mean less
friction, less dust. Aye, it meant better work, for there was a swing to
it, and a joyous abandon in it, and a rhythm of music with it. And the
undercurrent of thought came to be like this: There is a _Lord_ to the
harvest. He is taking care of things. My part is full, faithful,
intelligent obedience to Him. He is a Master, a masterful One. He is
organizing victory. And the fine tingle of victory was ever in the air.

Do Your Best--Leave the Rest.

I knew a mother one of whose sons was not a Christian man, and not of good
habits. She was a devoted true Christian woman, bearing her part in life's
service with fine faith and a keen sweet spirit. The children were all
Christians but this one, her first-born, the beginning of her strength.
The thought of him troubled her much. She prayed fervently, and used her
best endeavor, and the years grew on without change. And her face showed
the burden upon her fine spirit. We would talk together about her son, and
pray together, but her brow remained clouded.

Then I marked a change. The lines of tension in her face relaxed. A new
quiet light came into her eye. There seemed a gentle intangible, but very
sure, peace breathing about her. And I knew there was no change in him. So
one day in conversation I ventured to ask about the change. And I shall
always remember the gentle voice and the quiet strength with which she
said, "I have given him over to my Father. And I know He will not fail
me. I am still praying, of course, as ever, and I am _trusting_ for him."
She had been carrying a load that she should not have been carrying. And
now while the mother-heart was still concerned