bread that came rolling down the hill, and striking against the tent royal, overturned it. And I dare say Gideon was far from flattered when he heard Israel likened to a barley cake. But when he heard the interpretation of the dream, and learned how the deep belief had spread through Midian that the hour of victory for Israel had come, Gideon fell on his knees and worshipped God, and then with a new heart climbed the hill again to muster his three hundred for the fight. Then follows the tale of that amazing battle-the strangest combat this world has ever seen. We want no commentary on it. The story lives and speaks. There is no mother but will rivet her children with the pitchers and the torches and the trumpets, and the midnight cry, 'For Jehovah and for Gideon!'

NOW note some of the lessons of this chapter, and

Now first, apparent weakening may be real strengthening.

Had you asked Gideon his thought about his army, he would have told you it could bear a little strengthening. Had you asked him how he would propose to strengthen it, he would have said by recruiting a few more thousands. It is what every general and every government has said when faced in the field by unexpected numbers. But God said, we do not want more men. It is not by numbers that He works His will. He called for reduction, not for recruiting, that morning, and when the army was very weak then was it strong. And the Gospel triumphs have all been won that way. They have begun with a sifting and separating out. Jesus might have had a thousand soldiers to carry the banner of His kingdom through the world. But He knew men's hearts. He read their motives. He saw the perils of an unstable crowd. So He chose twelve out of the ranks of His followers; like Gideon's three hundred, they were to win the day; and all the history of a triumphing Gospel is our pledge of the wisdom and strength of that apparent weakening.

AGAIN our trifling acts reveal our characters. When

Gideon brought his army down to the water, God tested them by the way in which they drank. Thousands went down upon their knees to drink, and God rejected these. Three hundred licked as a dog licks, and it was these three hundred who were chosen. Now, I do not know that we can say with certainty why it was these lappers who were picked; though I am sure of this, that they were not picked (as some have held) for drinking in a cowardly fashion. God never sets a premium upon cowardice. Rather their lapping was a mark of the disciplined soldier, who kept his feet (and his head too) when drinking, and would not kneel for fear of sudden surprise. Or if the Bible means that they flung themselves down, and put their lips to the river for a draught, perhaps that was a sign of a deep faith in the Lord their Shepherd, who 'maketh me to lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters.' But the point is, whatever the explanation, God read their character in that trifling act, and in our little deeds and trivial speech we are detected still. We should all like to be judged by our few splendid hours. We are loth to accept the estimate of common days. But it is not in our dreams we are ourselves. It is in the playground, in the school-room, around the fire, at the dinnertable. What are you there? that is the question. What kind of character is welling over to-day? A thread of gossamer may show how the wind blows. A petty act may unlock all the deeps. Watch, in the common things. Our trifling acts reveal our characters.

ONCE

NCE more note our words may travel further than we know. When the Midianite soldier told his dream to his comrades, he never thought that it was overheard. The camp was asleep. There was not a sound except the cry of the watchman and the heavy breathing and champing of the camels. He could have sworn that his

But what dark

weary tent-fellow was his one auditor. figures are these outside the tent? Who are these that have crept up so silently, and are eagerly listening to every word? These are none other than Gideon and Phurah. So the dream passed from Midian to Israel, and put new heart into the three hundred on the hill, and when the trumpets sounded and the torches flashed, and the battle-cry of Israel rang with triumph, little did the Midianite soldier think how the telling of his dream had been determinative. We never know how far our words may carry. We cannot tell what unseen listeners we have. Our words speed out into the dark, and we think them dead, but we shall never learn how they have helped or hindered till the story of interlacing lives is written out.

AND lastly, observe how God wins His battles in unexpected ways. I have heard of men going to battle with strange armour. There were some curious implements of war in the hands of the late rioters in China. But to fight with pitchers and with torches and with trumpets, and fighting so, to scatter tens of thousands, is the strangest narrative of war the world has known. Yet in ways like that God won His battles for Israel. And in ways like that He wins His battles still. Is it the sword that has made the Gospel victorious? Mohammed may need the sword, Jesus does not. It is by every man becoming a torch-bearer, though his treasure may be carried in an earthen vessel; it is by every man sounding the Gospel note, if not on the trumpet, at least in heart and life; it is in ways like these, rooted in trust on God, that the little one has ever chased the thousand, and will be more than conqueror to the end.

T

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY

Evening

THE SYRO-PHOENICIAN WOMAN

Passage to be read: Matt. xv. 21-31.

HE first interest of this story lies in the fact that Jesus is now moving in heathen territory. It is a pledge and forecast of the time when the spirit of Jesus, living in countless missionaries, will spread the knowledge of the Kingdom throughout heathendom. When we think of the heathen, our thoughts fly far away. There are vast distances of sea between us and them. But a walk of a few miles, over the hills of Galilee, brought Jesus to the borders of a heathen country. We must not think, however, that they were heathens like the Africans. They were not wild barbarians like the Scots whom Columba found around him in Iona. They were an ancient people with a wonderful history, skilled navigators, builders of mighty cities. Who could have thought that that wearied Galilean, journeying northward for a little rest, was to be far more powerful in the world than these old kingdoms? Yet Tyre is to-day a mean town of ruins, and the commerce and the colonies of Sidon are forgotten, and the Kingdom of Jesus is becoming world-wide.

ONE

NE of the first stones of that world-wide empire was laid when this woman got her girl again. We sometimes think there are no homes in heathendom. We think that the children are all cruelly treated, and are never encircled by a mother's love. But here was a mother who loved her daughter so, and had such an agony of heart about her, that it led her straight to the

feet of Jesus Christ. American prairies, if a traveller steps out of his track but a few yards, he often finds it impossible to discover his way back. But there is a flower there, called the compass-weed, that always bends to the north; and when the traveller finds it, and watches how it leans, it shows him his course, and sets him right again. And all that is noblest in the human heart has been like a compass-weed to lead a wandering world to Jesus. It was this mother's love that led her. It was her passion for her daughter that constrained her. A little child had brought her to His feet.

I have read that in the wild

IT T has been asked, how could this woman have heard of Jesus? But I do not think we need trouble about that. I am quite sure she was not a Jewish proselyte. If you had peered through the window of her humble cottage, when her daughter was crying and writhing on the floor, you would have found her pleading for mercy from her heathen gods. But just as the woman with the issue, having tried all physicians, determined at last to steal a cure from Jesus, so this poor mother, who was only the worse for all her heathen gods, determined at last to come to Jesus too. Some village neighbour had told her of this Son of David. Some friend had been marketing in Capernaum that morning when the nobleman's boy had been brought to life again. And if He could do that for a centurion's boy, would He not do as much for a Syro-Phoenician's girl? She hurries to Christ. She pleads with Him. She bows at His feet. She will not be gainsaid. Until at last even Jesus wonders at her faith, and conquered by its power and persistency, gives her her heart's desire. They say love conquers all things, but it is only faith that can conquer Jesus. A faith like this, powerful in ten thousand hearts, would give us a time of Pentecost in Christendom.