Miracle!
by C. T. Studd

The last of our supplies was finished, and there was no apparent hope of supplies of any kind coming from any human source. The mail came once a fortnight. The mailman had just set out that afternoon, and in a fortnight he would bring the return mail. The children were put to bed. Then my wife came to my room. We had looked facts in the face. We decided to have a night of prayer. We got on our knees. I think we must have stayed there twenty minutes before we rose again. We had told God everything that we had to say in those twenty minutes. Our hearts were relieved; it did not seem to us either reverence or common sense to keep on talking to God as though He were deaf.

The mailman returned at the appointed time. We were not slow to open the bag. We glanced over the letters; there was nothing, and we looked at each other. I went to the bag again, and took it by the corners and shook it mouth downwards; out came another letter. I opened it and began to read. We were different after the reading of that letter from what we had been before, and I think our whole lives have been different since. This was the letter–I looked at the signature first, one wholly unknown to me–"I have," he said, "for some reason or other received the command of God to send you a check for £100."