'I do, I do,' I cried passionately. 'Come unto
me,' called my Father. 'I will,' my heart panted. Did I stop to
ask a single question? Not one. It never occurred to me to ask
whether I was good enough, or to hesitate over my unfitness, or
to find out what I thought of his church, or . . . to wait until
I should be satisfied. Satisfied! I was satisfied. Had I not
found my God and my Father? Did he not love me? Had he not
called me? Was there not a Church into which I might enter? . .
. Since then I have had direct answers to prayer--so significant
as to be almost like talking with God and hearing his answer.
The idea of God's reality has never left me for one moment."
Here is still another case, the writer being a man aged
twenty-seven, in which the experience, probably almost as
characteristic, is less vividly described:--
"I have on a number of occasions felt that I had enjoyed a period
of intimate communion with the divine. These meetings came
unasked and unexpected, and seemed to consist merely in the
temporary obliteration of the conventionalities which usually
surround and cover my life.
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