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gratitude to God. His eyes grow moist, but they still shine, when he speaks of Kate Lee. ‘Aye, bless her heart! I’m going to frame that picture of her that came out in “The War Cry,”‘ he exclaims with a deep, ringing voice. ‘I look upon her as my mother–a real mother to my soul she was.’

In the streets of Reading almost any day, an old man may be seen pushing a tinker’s barrow. The small carriage is gay with yellow, red, and blue paint and bright with polished brass, and on a conspicuous place appear the words, ‘Where will you spend Eternity?’ The barrow-man has a pleasant, bearded face, and steady-gazing, merry, eyes, with a cheerful nod and word for every one; he steps in and out of gardens, mending kettles, sharpening knives, and doing other handy jobs for housewives. ‘Mr. Wellman, of The Salvation Army,’ an established resident would inform an inquirer.

Thirteen years ago, Wellman was one of the most wretched men in Reading. Drink had brought him, with his wife and family, to a common lodging- house, and there they herded, sometimes as many as twelve men, women, and children in one room, eating, drinking, sleeping, cursing.

A son of Christian parents, Wellman was a decent youth, but in his early married life he began to go down-hill and long before Adjutant Lee took charge of the corps at Reading, had reached the dead level of misery, degradation, and hopelessness. He had turned his back upon God; he feared Him, dreaded Him, longed to escape from His presence, but the Heavenly Father did not forsake him. His mother had died, he was filled with sorrow and remorse, when one Sunday evening The Army band halted before the lodging-house. Wellman was in the yard lounging against the wall when the drum tapped. He walked through the passage and gazed at The Army. Kate Lee was leading the meeting. She looked at him and smiled. There was a world of power in that look; interest, kindness, gentleness, sorrow for sin. Wellman listened with apparent indifference to the meeting, and the march moved off.

He had heard the Army drum hundreds of times before in Reading, but while it called to every one to remember God, its message had never reached him; but the look on that woman’s face did. For the first time he followed the march, and, arriving at the hall, was invited inside. The place was already full, but a wise-hearted orderly piloted Wellman to a front seat.

He has no remembrance of the message of the meeting; but he saw himself; his loathsome condition; his sin to God and man; his failure in life. At the invitation he went forward to the penitent-form and asked God to take away his sin; he rose from his knees believing that he was saved.

How wonderful is the work of God! Wellman came into the hall dirty, unkempt in body and soul. For years he had given no thought to his appearance, cared nothing for the contempt of respectable people. Now he fled to the lodging-house, ashamed to be seen.

The next morning the Adjutant called to see him. He had broken up eight homes, and for years had felt no wish for so troublesome a possession, but now he longed to get out of that hovel and to have a decent place to which he could invite this ‘angel woman.’ The Adjutant smiled upon him, told him he had only to follow God and things would soon improve. She fostered the desire to make home again with his family and his own bits of furniture about him, and helped him to get rooms. During Wellman’s years of sinning, whenever he had seen the word God in print, he had dropped the paper or book as though it were hot; now he opened his mother’s Bible and found it to be a library of delight; and his spare time, between work and the meetings, was spent in reading it for sheer pleasure.

The desire for strong drink had been swept out of him by one touch of the Holy Spirit, but his love of tobacco was even stronger than of beer. No one spoke to him about giving up smoking, but from the day of his conversion he felt ashamed of the habit and only smoked in the house. The heavenly vision growing stronger he determined to have nothing in his life about which he had any doubt, and he thus reasoned with himself, ‘If God can cure me of the drink, He can cure me of the pipe.’ From that day he had no desire for tobacco.

Wellman’s business increased, and the Adjutant was interested in his barrow which had taken on a gay appearance in The Army colours. Pointing to a clear space she remarked, ‘Wouldn’t a message go well there?’ ”Twould, Adjutant; what one would do?’ She thought, ‘I think, “Where will you spend Eternity?” would be a good one,’ she replied. So Wellman had the words painted on his barrow.

His quiet eyes smile as he says, ‘Her text shall preach in Reading while ever I can push the barrow. It gives me no end of chances to speak to people. Some ladies on bicycles stopped me one day and said, “What is the meaning of those words?” “It means that you’re going to die, and are you ready for what comes after?” I told them. Some have said, “What have you got that rubbish on there for?” Then I tell them what Salvation has done for my life. But most people know me now, and look for a little word.’

He is now Sergeant Wellman at the corps, in full Army uniform, and does useful work as doorkeeper and orderly, always on the watch to welcome poor souls such as he was. He has had his share of trials since he was converted. Bronchitis and asthma often keep him a prisoner and make work slack. ‘I don’t have to look for troubles, they come trooping along, but grace keeps them company,’ he says joyfully. Then a shade of sadness steals into his voice as he continues, wistfully, ‘What was I doing to miss all those years? Wretched, terrible years, mind always brooding, never happy, never at rest!’

It is often more difficult to rescue a sinful married woman than a man. A man as soon as he is converted goes to work, and during the day remains under some sort of discipline and restraint; whereas the very privileges of a married woman’s position often become hindrances in the way of her Salvation. No one can compel her to work, and undesirable neighbours may visit her and tempt her to sin. Adjutant Lee never relaxed hope or effort because success was difficult of realization. There are bright stars in her crown of jewels whom she discovered in the depths; but after a woman has been restored to her family, the past forgiven and laid aside, her dear ones are naturally unwilling for the past to be recorded, and in this book we must content ourselves with a very slight sketch of one who has passed beyond the touch of pain.

A married woman had worn out the patience of a loving family. So ruinous to the happiness and well-being was her presence in the home, that when at last she went away her nearest made no effort to bring her back. The Adjutant found her in the depths of sin, and determined, by the grace of God, that she should be saved. This was one of the most difficult cases she ever undertook. The woman had lost hope and will power, and it took love that would not let go, and faith that would not accept defeat, before the desire to rise again stole into the poor heart made captive of the devil. At last the Adjutant persuaded her to attend the meetings and there she found deliverance. After a few weeks Kate Lee got in touch with the husband in a distant town, but his family had suffered too much at their mother’s hands for him readily to consent to his wife’s return. Yet he was not a hard-hearted man, and upon the suggestion of a reconciliation, if, for six months, his wife proved herself to be indeed a changed woman, he consented. During that trying probation the Adjutant mothered this soul, who, with tottering steps, had turned her face homeward, and she won through.

At the end of the allotted time a letter brought the husband to a meeting-place. He looked apprehensive, but meeting the wistful eyes of a well-dressed, comely woman, he saw once again the wife he loved and the mother his children loved. That day he bore her off to the expectant but anxious home. With beating hearts, the daughters waited the arrival, but it was not the abandoned drunkard who had spoilt their home, and horrified and frightened them, who stood on the doorstep with father. It was just mother. Home was really home once more. Mother at the head of the table, mother’s hand here, there, upon everything. Then she became ill. Months of agony followed. The doctor ordered stimulants; these were refused to the end. Slowly the delivered soul slipped down death’s river; then, as it met the sea of eternity, she looked up. ‘All’s well!’ she said, and crossed the bar.

It was through the house-to-house canvass of a Salvation Army Assurance Agent that Adjutant Lee came into contact with the Parrot family at Brighton. They lived in a poor enough street and house; but thinking people who live close to the working classes know that pounds a week which should go into the homes frequently find their way to the saloon- keeper’s till. ‘The only saving I want to think about is to get my husband saved from the drink,’ Mrs. Parrot had told the agent, and, like a wise man, he reported the incident to Kate Lee.

It was Sunday morning. There was a tap at the door; a little child appeared, took one look at the pure, radiant face there, and disappeared saying aloud to his mother, ‘There’s a Salvation Army lady at the door, mother, and I don’t think you ought to send her away.’ Kate Lee heard the words, and uninvited, slipped into the passage. Meeting the mother, she said gently, ‘If I have a welcome from the child, I am sure of one from you.’

That morning the strings of Mrs. Parrot’s harp of hope were reduced to one. A brave-hearted girl, she had started married life determined to fill it with music, despite the prophecies that she was a fool to marry Parrot. But the strings of her harp broke one by one, and this morning there was no song in her heart; she could see no star in the heavy sky. She was a fine type of the working woman; had been servant in a good family, and had had a godly Sunday School teacher who had taught her the reality of God and the efficacy of prayer. Through all the wretched, terrible years of her married life, she had prayed and hoped for deliverance from the earthly hell in which she and her children lived. The week before Adjutant Lee’s visit she had in desperation gone to a spiritual leader and implored him to try and reform her husband, and had received the extraordinary reply, ‘Well, you must bear with this little habit. I may tell you I have the same weakness myself.’

Little habit indeed! It had lost Parrot two businesses. Now he pushed a barrow, hawking anything he had money to buy; generally the proceeds went in drink, his family starved and lived in terror of him, and his wife, the soul of respectability, could not keep the family decent.

A year ago, her patience completely worn out, she had told him not to come home any more. This was the last straw to Parrot’s own wretchedness. He went to a chemist, purchased some oxalic acid, dropped it into a pint of beer and drank it; stumbling into the street, overcome by pain and gasping for breath, he fell to the ground. The police picked him up, took him to the hospital and his life was saved. When he had sufficiently recovered to go before the magistrate, he was sent to jail for a week; while in there, he made desperate resolves that he would do better; but once released, life went on as before.

Mrs. Parrot lifted her eyes to the Adjutant’s face. Was God going to help her after all? The Adjutant invited her to the meetings. She frankly said her husband had no clothes to wear. ‘Where was he?’ ‘Upstairs in bed.’ The Adjutant asked if she might go up and see him. Mrs. Parrot thought she had better go and inquire.

A Salvation Army woman wanted to come up to his bedroom and see him lying drunk in bed! The impudence! He would show her out of this British workman’s home quicker than she had come in. Lunging into his rough clothes, and staggering down the stairs, with muttering lips and angry eyes, came Parrot. He found Kate Lee talking with his children. She looked up at him with a smile and said, ‘They told me I was coming to a drunkard’s home, but these don’t look like a drunkard’s children. The dears!’

Parrot was struck dumb and stood with a strangely-working face and a peculiar tearing at his throat staring at this fair, fragile woman. ‘I want you to come to our meeting to-night,’ continued the Adjutant. ‘Mrs. Parrot tells me you haven’t any good clothes; but I’ll have a full suit ready for you in time, and shall expect you there.’ She prayed and was gone.

This was the first vision of Divine love that Parrot had ever seen. Born in a beer shop, fighting and quarrelling from childhood, his life had been a hideous, hopeless failure. Hell he understood–felt; but such words as God, Heaven, Love, had meant nothing to him at all. Now they did. Love seemed to shine all over that woman. Angels’ wings never looked lovelier to human eyes than the Army blue of Adjutant Kate’s uniform looked to Parrot.

By-and-by a parcel arrived. It contained shirt, trousers, coat and vest, socks and boots, collar, tie, and even a handkerchief. Parrot handled them with wonder. He had never worn such clothes–the Adjutant had begged them from a gentleman. He put them on, and walked up and down the back yard. How good it felt to be well dressed–to look respectable.

Meeting time arrived and, piloted by his wondering wife, Parrot went to the hall. ‘Let’s go up out of the draught,’ diplomatized Mrs. Parrot, and edged her man as near to the front as possible. Kate Lee gloried in God that night. She told of His boundless love, His seeking–seeking to find, and make good and happy, every soul of man. Parrot and his wife knelt at the penitent-form.

Next morning Parrot felt desperately ill, but the craving for strong drink had gone. He must face life in earnest and see about providing for the family. He must have something to sell. Mrs. Parrot remembered a kind-hearted man who had promised, that if ever her husband tried to do better, that he would help him. Parrot walked several miles to find this man, who trusted him with a dollar’s worth of fish.

The spiritual life in this new convert was very feeble. Parrot felt comfortable in his mind, and happy to believe that angels still walked this earth, and that one had come his way. An ambition had come into his weak, undisciplined will to make a decent home for his wife and children. He would have been content to have let things rest there. But Kate Lee bore down upon him, not only with smiles, but commands. He must fight for God. He must tell all his townspeople of his conversion. Parrot was terrified, but there was no escape. When the Adjutant arrived with the band to carry him off, he slipped out of the back door, but there he was met by the wisest of recruiting sergeants, a man who understood men and loved them. Trembling in every limb, Parrot was marched off to The Army Hall, and sat by the Adjutant on the platform. In an open-air meeting in his own street, an Army cap was placed on his head. There could be no turning back. He was literally carried up the Delectable Mountains and shown higher views of life; and, seeing them, he desired them.

To-day, he is proud of his Salvation Army family, and of his good wife, who is the neighbours’ friend, helping them in trouble, comforting them in bereavement, praying with them in distress. When The General called for homes for the destitute Austrian children, the Parrot household was the first in the corps to open their door. Mrs. Parrot has a prosperous business, as also have two of their sons, and Parrot is in steady work. He is grateful for temporal mercies, but no words can express the gratitude of this man and his wife for the miracle of Salvation, the deliverance from sin, the love for the things of God, which has come to their home and their hearts by the grace of God, brought to them by the love that feared no insult, no violence; the faith that would not be disappointed, of Kate Lee.

XIII

KATE LEE’S SECRET

Of Kate Lee General Bramwell Booth writes, ‘She was one of those conquering souls who seldom look like a conqueror. She presented an extraordinary contrast. She was weak, and yet she was strong. She was poor, and yet she was one of the richest. She was intensely human, with many of the most marked limitations which belong to the human, and yet she was in an extraordinary degree spiritual, yes, even divine.’

These contrasts were clear to all and puzzling to many. Not a few people both in and outside the ranks of The Army have asked the question, ‘Wherein lay the secret of Kate Lee’s success?’ One person, accustomed only to surface views, gave answer, ‘It is that she always aims to win trophies.’

Let any one determine to gain distinction for himself by lifting from the mire of sin souls robbed by the devil of hope and will power, and even desire for deliverance; let them essay to bring back from the far country wanderers sunk to the level of the brute; let them attempt to break bands of habit forged by the devil, or to deliver the prey from the terrible one. He will discover the impossibility of his enterprise if not his folly.

Desire to win spiritual battles in order to gain personal reputation is age-old. From the day that Simon the sorcerer offered Peter money in exchange for miracle-working power, the exercise of which would have placed him upon a pedestal above his fellows, the rebuke has rung out, ‘Thy heart is not right in the sight of God.’

Shortly before Jesus left His little band of disciples, with the charge to preach the Gospel to every creature, He spoke with them on the subject of spiritual fruitfulness. He assured them that, ‘Herein is My Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit,’ and in one sentence He made clear the secret of spiritual success. He said, ‘He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit, for without Me ye can do nothing.’

The failure of the Church of Christ to extend His Kingdom upon earth by great sweeping victories, lies in the imperfect apprehension or the neglect of this declaration. Tens of thousands of professing Christians do not abide in Christ; consequently, He cannot satisfy their soul. The cares and pleasures of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, occupy them as they do the ungodly; for their pleasures they turn to the world. A smaller section have faith in Christ, and realize the joys of Salvation, and comfort of His presence, but they do not yield themselves to Him for service. A smaller section dedicate themselves to His service, but rush to work for God without receiving directions from Him, with the result that much effort is wasted. If every consecrated soul would pay heed to Christ’s direction, how gloriously would His Kingdom extend! Not that the battle would ever become an easy one. The powers of evil against which we fight are second only in strength to those of righteousness and light. In conflict between these powers there will always be the sacrifices of war to reckon upon, the spade work, the tunnelling, the weariness; surprises of the enemy, rushed advances, sick and wounded to care for, and captured territory to be occupied, organized, and governed, before the final victory.

Kate Lee was one of the company that dwell in God. It is difficult to write of her secret soul life; for, keeping no journal she made no record of the dealings between her soul and her Beloved; no fights and victories over the powers of evil, no story of following the heavenly vision, nor does her very scrappy correspondence contain out-pourings of spiritual experience. Her life was a lovely epistle of week-day holiness for all to read, but it was the outward sign of an inward experience. Locked in a private box, a “Covenant” was found after her death which is as a key to the inner sanctuary in which her life was lived with Christ in God. It reads as follows:–

COVENANT
_Solemnly entered into, January, 1897; Renewed, January, 1918_ TO MY PRECIOUS LORD AND MASTER

In the first moments of this year I present myself to Thee in the deepest humiliation of soul, sensible of my utter unworthiness. I desire nothing in the world so much as to be Thine, and with the utmost solemnity, surrender myself fully unto Thee.

I declare Thee, O Lord, this day, to be my God, and myself to be Thine own child. Hear, O Thou God of Heaven, and record it in Thy Book of Remembrance, that I am Thine, only Thine.

From this first day of January do I solemnly renounce all that has had dominion over me, and every sin, and every lust, and in Thy name, set myself in eternal opposition to the powers of hell.

The whole frame of my nature, all the faculties of my mind, all the members of my body would I present to Thee this day, as a living sacrifice.

I consecrate myself to Thee; all my worldly possessions; and I pray Thee to give me the strength and courage to exert for Thy glory all the influence I may have over others. Receive and wash me. Forgive all past failings, clothe me with Thy perfect righteousness, and sanctify me throughout by the power of Thy Spirit.

Help me that I may never withdraw in any point from this renewal of my consecration and covenant.

Help me to live in the spirit of real consecration and crucifixion; and should I fail in carrying out this covenant in all points as I ought, then, dear Lord, forgive and lead me to perfection.

In Thy strength I promise to be true till death. Until then, keep, guide, and direct me.

Remember, dear Lord, this covenant when I am about to pass away; and should I then be incapable of recollecting it, look with pity on Thy dying child. Put strength and confidence into my departing spirit, and receive it to the embrace of Thy everlasting love.

For Jesus Christ’s sake.

May this petition be granted.
(Signed) KATE LEE.
_Renewed, January 1st, 1920_

Another valuable document traces for us Kate Lee’s seeking after sanctification. After having lived in the enjoyment of this blessing for nearly thirty years, she was asked by the editor of ‘The Officer’ to write her experience. The following article appeared in that magazine three years ago:–

Soon after I was converted I realized a great need in my heart. I had turned my back on the old life, and my face was toward God. I had started to travel the upward way. For the first few weeks I went with a rush, the joy of the new life within buoyed me up. I felt as though I was walking on air. I did not feel any strain of the upward tread. But soon I began to feel the tension of the daily struggle, the weary march. There were obstacles in that way that impeded my progress. My circumstances were against me, and the influences surrounding me had a tendency to draw me from Christ.

I began to stumble and fall. The tempter was soon at my side suggesting, ‘You’re not converted; it’s all a delusion; you would not feel as you do; you would not fail as you have done, if you were really a child of God. Give it up, it’s no use trying,’ he argued. And, worst of all, I knew sin still existed in my heart. How often passion had broken my peace. How many times bitterness and evil had manifested itself in my nature. Was I mistaken? Had I ever been converted? Was it all a delusion?

Just then God in His love and pity came to my heart; gave me a revelation. He not only showed me myself and my sin, but showed me my need. I needed something, and as I sat in a holiness meeting I realized that need was sanctification. For months the word sanctification was to me a heavy burden; a torture. I could not really grasp its meaning. I read and re-read the theory of sanctification, going from one authority on the subject to another, only to turn away still more puzzled. I then set myself to seek publicly and was several times found at the holiness table, pleading for the blessing that I failed to understand. Again and again I came to the altar, and, as far as I understood, laid my all there. But as soon as the test came, without realizing that I did it, I took from off the altar the sin I had laid there, or the gifts that I had surrendered to God.

This is where I failed many times, and during my officership I have found scores of other souls who have failed on this very point. They come sincerely to the altar, definitely laying their gift there, a living sacrifice; but when the knife is felt, the realization of the dying comes upon them as they feel the hurt and understand fully what it means, they shrink and draw back. Abram’s experience, related in Genesis xv., has been a great help to me. He had to wait for the fire. He prayed all day, even until eventide, and then the birds of prey came down; but he stood by the sacrifice and drove them off. Then the fire came and consumed the sacrifice.

That was just the point to which I had to get. I had laid my all on the altar, but then I had to wait for the fire. Meanwhile, the birds of doubt, fear, and discouragement came flying around. I had to get up again and again to drive them off, and hold on to God.

Fresh light came; a new path opened up. The laying of self on the altar meant following God fully and showing my colours everywhere. Could I do it? It was hard to die to self, and say, ‘Yes, Lord.’ But as I said it, I felt I was accepted, and afterwards, when I carried out that vow, joy flooded my soul and I realized that the Spirit of the Lord was upon me. The desire to sin was removed, and my heart yearned to be kept pure and clean.

I have found the need of great watchfulness, and have needed much prayer to keep my soul in touch with God and on fire for precious souls. Although I realized, after I was sanctified, that I was over sin and no longer under the power of sin, and that I was cleansed from the desire to sin, yet in his subtlety the devil has come again and again and striven to bring me down.

Sometimes he has come as an angel of light, so that I have been led to the very verge of sin, tempted to indulge in what seemed at the moment harmless, perhaps because others, who professed as much as I did, indulged in it too. Tempted to shrink from the sacrifice that a separated life must mean; tempted to give way to the flesh, one’s natural desires and inclinations, I have even allowed the devil to take me to the edge of a great spiritual precipice, but God, in His mercy, has flashed His wonderful light upon my path in time to show me where I was, and what would be the outcome if I yielded to the temptation. Oh, how it caused me to pray and seek strength which enabled me to overcome!

Prayer has been my source of help, when burdens have pressed so heavily upon me that they threatened to crush my spirit; when disappointments, misrepresentations almost overwhelmed me, prayer has brought strength and comfort, a courage that could face a world of bitterness and scorn. I have proved that prayer will enable me to retain the substance of holiness. Prayer enables me to retain a passion for souls; keep it burning in hours of disappointment and failure, indifference and hardness, when men and devils rise in power against me.

One must tread the path of holiness carefully, with a watchful eye and ear always open to His voice, and a spirit ever ready to obey. But it is a wonderful way, a way of purity, where the soul can see God, even in the struggles of life. A way of joy; the deepest of joys. The realization of His smile enables me to live independent of all the joys of the world and to rejoice in the hour of sorrow. A way of power; when the channel is clear He works through it and accomplishes His will.

A personal experience of Full Salvation was the secret of Kate Lee’s success.

This life was not spasmodic. She did not pass in and out of the holy place, or step on and off the highway of holiness. She dwelt there. That does not imply that never during those thirty years was she overcome by Satan. Once, into a deep sorrow was poured the bitterness of gall through the wickedness of another. The enemy came in like a flood, threatening to overwhelm and root up many precious things, but the Spirit of the Lord was there to lift up a standard against him. ‘If ye forgive not your enemies, neither will your Father forgive you,’ was the word that came to her heart. She closed her lips, hushed her sobs, crept to the feet of her Lord, where are ever the print of cruel nails, to remind His children of His sufferings and His forgiveness.

‘I was wrong,’ she said, ‘very wrong. I must forgive, I _do_ forgive’; and to the close of her life she lavished love upon one who had sore wounded her. ‘If we sin we have an Advocate.’ She laid her case in His hands, and left it there.

The officers who served as lieutenants with Kate Lee give us glimpses of the life she lived in the privacy of her quarters. We may stand at the door of the sanctuary where she met with God and learn a little. Says one of her lieutenants, ‘It seemed to me that she prayed without ceasing. Her life was one continual looking to God. She prayed upon rising. We prayed together after breakfast; later, she went to her room for an hour’s private prayer and study; for special undertakings or emergencies she had special seasons of waiting upon God.’

How much there was to pray for. Her own soul and that of her lieutenant, that they might be kept in touch with God. Her corps, every department of it; the local officers, the band, the songsters, the home league; the soldiers and converts; the town, with its sin and indifference to the claims of Christ, the finance. Then, hers was not a small soul. She loved the whole wonderful Salvation Army of which she was a unit, and her leaders and comrades in all lands were remembered at the Throne of God. It was a great strength to her to feel that she lived in the atmosphere of prayer. When in the midst of a specially heavy battle for souls, she would write to comrades she knew had power in prayer and beg them specially to help her to fight through to victory.

Very real were the powers of darkness and evil against which this frail little woman set herself; sometimes they pressed her sore. She felt something of the sorrows and travail of soul of her Saviour, of whom it is written, ‘And being in an agony, He prayed.’ At times she suffered from depressions so heavy that they prostrated her. The lieutenant says, ‘At these times, all I could do was to let her feel that I was carrying on, whilst she sought her chief remedy, prayer. By and by, she would come from her room, strengthened and peaceful, ready again for the fight.’

Writes another of her helpers:–

She was a wonderful officer in public, but I love best to remember how she conquered in her own private life. When we remember how she attacked the devil’s kingdom, we can well believe that he did not leave her unmolested. She had her full share of difficulties, hardnesses, disappointments, and physical weakness; but, whatever her feelings were, she rose above them, and went on with her work.

In her office, over the fireplace, hung a large picture of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. On her writing table was the same picture, but small; so, if she lifted her eyes from her writing, she was reminded of Him whom she loved with her whole heart. As He conquered by prayer, so did she. One morning, one of the local officers called to see her. When I went to her room to fetch her, her eyes were red with weeping. ‘Dear, I can’t go down like this,’ she said; ‘will you see to the business for me?’ She had been pleading–agonizing with God.

She was very sweet to me. I can see her smile now as she first welcomed me to the quarters. I was very timid and helpless in public work when I became her lieutenant, but she made me feel that her responsibility was to make me a worthy officer. She said, ‘I could get others to do the house-work; you are to be my comrade in the fight.’ She took me fully into her confidence, consulted me about corps organization, difficulties, special efforts, everything! She would tell me all her plans and then ask for mine.

The first time she insisted upon my taking the Sunday night address, in spite of having laboriously prepared, I was so nervous that I stopped, fairly played out, in the middle of my talk, but she got up and encouraged me, and asked the comrades to pray. She helped me so much that to give a Bible address is not a difficulty now. I learned to forget myself.

Had she a weakness? Well, it may seem much to say it, but though I lived with her so long, I cannot think of one; she was an all-round conqueror.

Writes still another lieutenant:–

How I love her memory! My Bible was her parting gift to me, and in it she marked the text: ‘In all thy way acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.’ She passed on to me the method that governed her own life.

In nothing did Kate Lee show her likeness to her Lord more than in her practical unselfishness. He wanted nothing from the world. He came to give Himself to save it. It was so with her. A woman so popular could have drawn to herself the homage and service of the crowd; but here she stood aloof. She welcomed, indeed she sought, gifts and service for the work of The Army and the poor, but she wanted nothing for herself. When she and her lieutenant were so pressed with work that they scarcely had time to eat their food, her eye would rove over the corps, and she would select a girl whom she felt had a true appreciation of the Kingdom of God, and ask her if she would like to come to the quarters to help with the house-work, so that the officers might be freer for soul-saving. Many a girl counts it the honour of her life to have shared that saintly woman’s home, sat at her table, joined in the prayers, and done the work of the house. The Adjutant and lieutenant paid her out of their small allowance.

To her soldiers, Kate Lee delighted to preach the doctrine of Full Salvation from sin, and greatly she rejoiced over those who entered into this glorious experience of freedom and power.

One comrade, who had been a Salvationist for twenty-seven years, a white- haired, sweet-spirited man, enjoyed his religion in the corps, but was little more than a cypher as a soldier. In a holiness meeting, while the Adjutant spoke from the text, ‘Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord,’ the old soldier saw in a moment of revelation, that if he were thoroughly yielded to God and obedient to the heavenly vision, the Holy Spirit would cleanse him from sin, and, despite his lack of personality, and very ordinary qualities, would empower him for service. He went forward to the holiness table, seeking this experience. Attached to the corps was a young men’s Bible class languishing for want of a leader. A few evenings after his consecration, the Adjutant told this comrade that she wished him to take over the class. The habit of years strong upon him, he began to plead his unfitness; but inwardly reminded of his covenant with God, went away to pray and returned to say he was ready for service.

He laid hold upon those lads. Many young men, as officers, soldiers, and bandsmen, bless the day that Brother Fenwick claimed them for God. They are the fruit of his service.

The Adjutant was as watchful to help souls convicted of the need of a clean heart as to capture the unsaved. A sister writes:–

I am indebted to Kate Lee for leading me into the blessing of entire sanctification. Attending a tent campaign she had inaugurated, after her address setting forth the experience of holiness, she asked those in the congregation who were living up to that standard to rise. Condemnation filled my soul. I arose, but only to slip out of the tent by a far door. The Adjutant noticed the move, and met me as I was making my escape. Then she laboured until I knelt in full surrender, yielding my all to God. One of my chief difficulties was to wear Army uniform, but that was included in my consecration, and from the putting on of my first Army bonnet, nearly twenty years ago, I have been proud to witness for Christ in this way.

As a spiritual surgeon with skill in diagnosis, Kate Lee excelled. A sergeant-major of great devotion and good cheer fell into deep spiritual depression. No amount of pulling himself together or shaking free of the dumps, availed anything. He became as miserable as when first convicted of sin. ‘But why?’ he asked himself the question over and over. ‘I love God with all my heart; I am fully consecrated to His service; then what is amiss?’ No reply. To a Watch-Night service this man came, under a vow not to leave his knees until he discovered the reason of this cloud and obtained deliverance.

During the meeting, he, the chief local officer of the corps, made confession before his comrades and knelt at the holiness table. The Adjutant sought to discover his difficulty. ‘Sergeant-Major, have you a grudge against any person? Now, think carefully.’ The man was silent, searching his heart. Presently he replied, ‘You have found the spot.’ Years before, a man had deceived him in a matter of business, thereby bringing much trial into his home. By dogged, hard work, the material loss had been overtaken, and the affair forgotten. But there it lay in his heart. The remembrance of the man’s name brought with it feelings of resentment and contempt. ‘Lord, forgive me for my hardness of heart toward that man as I now forgive him,’ he cried. ‘Cleanse my soul from every stain of sin and fill me with perfect love.’ In an instant the cloud lifted from his soul, and his heart was filled with singing. That was a remarkable Watch-Night service. Other battles were fought and won, and not until two o’clock on New Year’s morning did the meeting close, with a final burst of praise, and with renewed consecration to fight for souls during the coming year.

Dr. Garfield Carse, of Sunderland, became a soldier of the Sunderland corps, and entered upon his medical career there, during the Adjutant’s term. He says:–

Adjutant Lee was a great advocate of holiness. She preached the doctrine and lived the life. That was the key to her success. Her theme expressed in many ways was, ‘Put off the old man, and put on Jesus Christ. Live so that your life reminds people of His life.’ She was a great spiritual help to me; understanding the claims of a busy man, she would drop into my surgery and say, ‘I have come to visit you for five minutes.’ She would read from the Bible, a few choice verses that had refreshed her own soul that day, and then would kneel and pray for me that I might represent Christ in my particular sphere. She was a great woman!

An old local officer illustrates her meekness, when as a young officer she was impulsive and arrived at quick conclusions on incomplete evidence. ‘She believed I had done a wrong, and wanted me to ask forgiveness of people who were themselves in the wrong, but made a fair showing. I said, ‘No,’ and kept to it. She did not turn bitter towards me, nor ‘turn me down,’ but was kind and sorry. By and by she saw she had been mistaken in her judgment, and said sweetly, ‘Ah, yes, I see I was wrong that time.’

Says another, ‘What I thought she was when she came to us, I was sure that she was when she went away.’

Kate Lee had a settled conviction that ‘the servant of the Lord must not strive.’ A comrade says:–

If misunderstood, she would not justify herself, even in a way that seemed wise to me. She would not attempt to hold her own. She would stand up for others or for principle; but for herself, she trusted the Lord to bring forth her righteousness as the light, and her judgment as the noonday. She would say, ‘It doesn’t pay to contend for self, dear. It ruffles one’s spirit and lessens one’s influence. We must stoop to conquer.’ I was impetuous and hot before I knew her, but her life taught me the meaning of the beatitude, ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’

During the last year of her life, Satan gathered his forces for a last onslaught upon Kate Lee’s soul. She was stationed at the International Training Garrison in London, and her health continuing to be frail, a change was thought to be desirable for her. Therefore, she was appointed to take charge of the Home of Rest for Officers at Ramsgate. Only once before had she found it difficult to trust God concerning an appointment. As to her health, she was quite prepared to die at her post, but to leave the work of training those cadets for the field-work which she understood so well and loved with such a passion–could it be the will of God?

For some weeks the clear shining of her faith and joy suffered an eclipse. She maintained a calm exterior, but, in sore spiritual distress, sent for an old, trusted comrade to come and see her. This officer tells of a very sacred interview:–

When it was convenient for us to have a quiet time in her room, she turned upon me a face marked with intense suffering. She said, ‘I cannot feel this is God’s will, and so I cannot be happy. I have never felt like this before in all my experience.’ ‘But, Katy, what have we always preached? Don’t we still believe that a soul, really committed to God, cannot be moved, cannot be hurt, except by His permission? He knows you are here. If, to give up the thing you love best in life, is His test for you, can’t you trust Him and not take it from man, but from Him, and say, “Thy will be done”?’

Much searching communion passed between the sister-comrades, and at last in answer to the question, ‘Can you not just now take life from God, just as you have done for thirty years?’ Kate replied with decision, ‘Why, of course I can, and _I will_.’ Then the comrades rejoiced together, knelt in prayer, and when they rose, peace had returned to Kate’s heart and shone out of her eyes. ‘She looked ten years younger,’ says her comrade. ‘I had an appointment to keep and she some shopping to do. She took a basket on her arm and tripped down the street with me as gaily as the girl she was when I first knew her.’

Shortly orders came to proceed to Headquarters. She was needed for training work in another part of the world.

Then, sudden, unexpected illness brought her face to face with eternity. After the doctor who gave the verdict had departed, the little maid went to Kate Lee’s room to see if she needed anything and found her in tears. ‘Leave me a little while,’ she said.

Alone with her Lord, Kate Lee realized many things. There was no mistake. Gently her Heavenly Father had been loosening her hold on the sword here, in preparation for higher service. This last trial of faith had been allowed that she might know at the end of her career, as at the beginnings of her service, that she chose the will of God before her own way. By-and-by the little maid, with leaden sorrow dragging at her heart, crept back to the Staff-Captain’s door. She started as she met Kate’s gaze. It was full of unutterable peace and joy. She smiled and stretched out her hands. ‘It is all well. God’s will is peace,’ she said. From that time until the end, only a few days later, except for the heat of the furnace of suffering, Satan’s fiery darts missed the mark. Kate had faced and overcome the last attack of the enemy. She won through to the end.

XIV

OFF DUTY

The Regulations of The Salvation Army provide for its officers to have, under ordinary circumstances, from two to three weeks’ furlough yearly. This respite from strain upon body and soul which the work involves is brief enough; it is due to their work, and it is expected that officers should make the most of it. To assist them, the authorities have instituted Homes of Rest at pleasant seaside resorts; at these institutions, for a very moderate charge, under good conditions and healthful surroundings, a thorough rest may be enjoyed. But officers are perfectly free to make their own arrangements if they so desire.

How did Kate Lee take her holidays? What spirit moved her when the pressure of responsibility for her particular charge was removed; when professionalism was, for the moment, dropped? ‘Tell me about her holidays?’ I asked of an old lieutenant.

She replied: ‘I never knew Adjutant Lee take a holiday in the usual sense of the word. If she furloughed in London, much of her time was spent in visiting her converts; if at the seaside, her Bible notes accompanied her thither, to be revised. A few years ago she and I spent a few days together in the country. For months the Adjutant had been working at very high pressure; she was too tired to read or write, but not too tired to meditate upon God and His goodness. Those five days are a precious memory to me because of the interchange of thought we enjoyed.’

So that officers may take their brief furlough without attracting attention to themselves, or receiving unlimited calls for service, they lay aside their uniform. The only ‘private’ clothing that Kate allowed herself were two or three white blouses, a panama hat for summer, and a blue felt for winter. These she wore, with her uniform blue serge skirt and ‘three-quarter’ jacket. When on holiday, she often travelled in her uniform so as to have more opportunities for blessing the people.

‘Tell me about Kate’s holidays,’ I asked, still curious of Commandant Lucy Lee. Into her eyes stole a faraway look, and after some hesitation, came vague answers.

‘Well,’ she began, ‘last year we had our holiday together, preparing the Home of Rest at Ramsgate; the year before, Kate came to me in France. We had a lovely time visiting the hospitals and camps together; but, of course, it was not exactly a rest. And the year before that we spent them fixing up this little home. We did enjoy that. And the year before that?—-‘

Something else unsatisfactory to my way of thinking. ‘But tell about a nice restful holiday at the seaside, or in the country where, out in the open, Kate just unwound and was refreshed for her work.’

‘Well’–Lucy half closed her eyes and smiled wistfully–‘somehow there always seemed something to prevent plans like that. So long as we could be together and have a quiet time, we were perfectly happy.’

Until the end of her life, a certain insularity clung to Kate Lee. She gloried to fight in a crowd, but she could not rest with a crowd. When set free from duty, all she longed for was some quiet corner with the protecting love of her sister–that love which perfectly understands and makes no demands–filling the days with tenderness. As her sister suggests, something generally turned up that made arrangements for real rest and change difficult to arrange. On the face of things, we might judge that in this particular Kate Lee’s usual common sense and good management failed her; but to one who has seen behind the scenes, into the hidden life of this remarkable woman, it would appear, rather, that in the matter of rest, as in other affairs touching her temporal happiness, God shut her up to Himself and taught her, first for her own joy, and then through her life taught others the possibility of having nothing, and yet possessing all things.

During one furlough, Kate determined to feel for herself the conditions of the very poor. To this end she spent a night amongst the women who frequent our Women’s Shelter in the East End of London.

Dressing in rags, she went to the door, paid her pence for a bed, passed into the long dormitory and, flattering herself that she was so well got up that she would not attract attention, sat down beside her bunk. But soon she discovered that she was the centre of discussion.

‘Poor thing, she’s not used to this,’ mumbled an old woman, steadily surveying her. Presently another, remarking that she would need some supper, offered her a mug of tea; another, a piece of bread. She accepted the bread, but said she was not thirsty, only tired, and would go to bed. She proceeded to lie down with her clothes on. Now the women were sure she had never been there before. ‘Oo ever ‘eard tell of agoing to bed wif close on?’ they remarked in loud whispers. But seeing the poor, tired thing would not be advised, they pitied her, told her the most comfortable way to lie, and left her alone.

The details of that long night remained clear in the Adjutant’s memory. The miserable seared days of these women were echoed in their sleep. Groans; curses; snatches of song; angry or weary talk, with heavy breathing troubled the night. Oh, the sorrows that follow in the wake of sin; it pressed upon Kate Lee’s heart until it felt like breaking.

With the first streak of dawn she rose, and noiselessly stealing out, escaped into the street. She felt cold and sick. Standing at a corner, she hailed a bus. The driver gave her a glance and drove on. She hailed another and another, but none would stop. They did not want to carry such as she. At last she managed to board a street car, and the passengers eyed her as she crouched in a corner. She knew, perhaps for the first time, what it really meant to be poor, and hungry, and despised. From that morning she believed that the very poor suffer more in spirit than in body, and she used her experience powerfully to plead their cause.

One of her furloughs was spent in Sunderland. That visit is still the talk of the corps; it seemed that in those few days she laid a hand of love upon all. And how full was Kate’s heart of grateful joy when she turned homeward. One of her most wonderful trophies, after fighting a splendid fight for years, had slipped back into the depths of sin. She found him desperately ill and wretched; drew him back to the Saviour; saw him restored and comforted, and held his hands as he waded the river of death, till his spirit reached the other side. Then she buried his mortal remains.

Her longer furloughs, those occasioned by illness, found her the same loving, watchful, ministering spirit, as when in health. After the operation, which followed her farewell from the field, she spent a few days in hospital. Suffering much, and unable to sleep, still she noticed that one of the nurses wore a sad expression. Waiting until she came to attend to her at midnight, she engaged her in conversation, and, spiritual specialist that she was, got to the root of the nurse’s trouble. She had lost faith and her life was sadly clouded. At midnight. while others slept, in that palace of pain, Kate led her nurse to the Saviour.

Later, at the Officers Nursing Home at Highbury, London, she shared a room with an officer from India, and delighted in this unexpected way to come in closer touch with our missionary work. As health returned, the two officers talked India to their hearts’ content. The major from the East confided her fears, that the little girls of the Industrial Home she had just left would miss their Christmas this year. ‘Do not worry about it, they shall have their dollies,’ replied the Adjutant. As soon as she was able to write, she sent letters to many friends, begging for dressed dolls in time to reach India by Christmas. Fifty dollies take some getting, and the number was still incomplete when the Adjutant arrived at the Bexhill Home of Rest. An officer who was resting in the Home writes:–

She was just a shadow, sweet, mostly silent, with a cheerful, heartening smile. The officers saw in her the visible proof that unrestrained service pays; that God gives good recompense for all that is done for Him. The Adjutant’s quiet enthusiasm roped in ready assistance, and in good time, the dollies, beautifully dressed and packed, with additional tiny surprises were ready. She could well have been excused from such spending of time and effort, but it never dawned on Kate Lee that she needed to be excused. She gave all the time without effort, without knowing that she gave; to her it was just life. To those officer-comrades who assisted her, however, she was all gratitude. It was so splendid, she said, that they, being weary, should volunteer to do this sewing for the little Indian girls. She only saw their work, she never glimpsed her own, so utterly unselfish was her spirit.

The Adjutant had hoped that her retirement from the battle’s front might only be for a short time; but the nasal trouble was deep-seated, and her general health was atfected. She needed a course of surgical treatment, and it was arranged for her to rest in London.

Her experience somewhat resembled that of the apostle Philip, when he was caught up from the joys of a revival and set down in a desert. It was an experience difficult to understand, for her to retire, sick and wounded, to the rear, when there was so much to be done at the front of the battle, so much that she might do. But we have seen how she had fought the battle out, and she entered ‘the desert,’ her heart at peace with God, ready to accept any small opportunities for service that might come her way.

She was too frail to attend meetings, but she took up her pen, and having leisure for the first time in her Army career, revelled in the opportunity of writing for our periodicals. Each paper received helpful contributions. In a brief article which appeared anonymously in ‘The Young Soldier’ we catch a glimpse of her happy spirit at this time:–

Sometimes I go to visit men who are in jail, and try to make them see that Jesus cares for them though they have done wrong. Then they talk to me. Some have told me about the mice in their cells. When they feel lonely, the prisoners are glad to have the company of even a little mouse. I am a prisoner just now, although I am not made to stay in a cell; but when an Army officer is shut away from all the poor people she loves and wants to help, it seems very much like being in a prison; but I have some little friends who come to cheer me. At least, I think they look upon me as their friend, for they come to my window and peep in at me so knowingly. Then I open the window very gently and they wait until I put some scraps from my plate on the sill, and then they have such a feast.

One of my little sparrow friends is partly blind. He only seems able to see out of one eye. I guess he has been in some fight and got the worst of it. It seems very bad for a bird to fight and have to suffer; but then he did not know any better, and perhaps he was fighting an enemy bird who tried to hurt his family. One day, when I was watching my sparrow friends on the sill, to my surprise I saw a little mouse pop out of the ivy which hangs round my window. Very quickly he picked up a piece of fat that I had put there for the sparrows, and then ran off so fast; and, what do you think? he brought another little mouse with him. Now they come along about the same time each evening, just when the birds are having their supper. I know that mice like to sip milk, and once I dropped just a little milk on the window-sill for them. Oh, how they enjoyed it! You would have laughed to see what they did after that; they sat up, and rubbing their wet hands together, made what looked like a soapy lather, and washed their faces.

Some small children make a fuss if only their lips are washed after a meal; they do not seem to care how sticky they are; but my mice do, they like to be clean and tidy. God’s tiny creatures teach us many lessons, and if you little ones are wise you will try, as great King Solomon advised, to learn something from them all.

The daughter of the house in which Kate Lee had taken rooms, attracted her. Commandant Lucy Lee lent the girl the two volumes of ‘Catherine Booth: the Life of The Army Mother,’ which she read with delight. In the loving, eager spirit of this school girl, Ina, Kate detected something which reminded her of her own early longings. All her spiritual mother- love went out to Ina, and she led her into the Kingdom of God, and then step by step along the way of the Cross and the highway of holiness.

It was some time before permission was gained for the new convert to become a Salvationist, but gradually the parents began to recognize the beauty of a life wholly yielded to God, and became willing for their daughter to go Kate Lee’s way, and all the way. Kate did not make things easy for this new recruit. When she saw the spiritual light burning brightly in her soul, and the heavenly vision leading Ina to visit the saloons, she encouraged her, and frail though she herself was, she introduced her to the best way of doing this work. An anonymous article written to ‘The Warrior’ shows how this corps cadet learned to fight:–

Ina’s heart was filled with a great longing. She was tired, yet not satisfied, at the end of a busy Sunday. Going to and from the meetings, teaching a company of Juniors, seeking souls in the prayer meetings, and yet how little she seemed to be doing when the need was so great.

Then a voice said, ‘Go to the saloons, and try and win some poor drink-slave for Jesus.’ How could she obey? She had never darkened the doors of such places. Brought up in a sheltered home, she had never seen the sad effects of drink, nor all the miseries that follow in its train. But the call had come, and months ago she had promised to follow where Jesus led. Securing a bundle of ‘War Crys,’ Ina started off, trembling at the thought of her venture. As she reached the first drink-shop with its startling sign, ‘The Tiger,’ the idea of entering it seemed to her agitated mind as impossible as to attack such a ferocious beast. The suggestion of leaving such a task for an older and more experienced comrade was natural; but no, the call had come; there must be no retreat. So with a prayer for wisdom and strength, she stumbled through the darkened entrance, and as the door swung open, a blaze of light dazzled her eyes. Such a sight met her fearful gaze! Men drinking, women huddled together supping the stuff that is cursing the homes and blighting the lives of little children. The whole atmosphere was repelling. The tobacco smoke, the sickly smell of beer, and the coarse jests that fell upon her ears; but her spirit rose to the attack in the name of the Lord, as the boy David of the Bible had faced the giant.

There was a sudden hush as the crowd looked at this uniformed girl in an out-of-the-way district, and the murmur went round, ‘Salvation Army.’

‘Yes,’ said the corps cadet, ‘and I have come to ask you to buy a “War Cry.”‘

‘We don’t want war, Miss; we’ve had too much already.’

‘Yes,’ answered the cadet, ‘but the outcome of the Salvation War means an everlasting peace.’

The word peace seemed to change the atmosphere. ‘We know you’re all right,’ a voice answered. ‘You mean well. Here’s a penny, miss.’ And then another, and yet other hands were stretched out for a paper.

Whilst she was handing round the papers, Ina’s heart was going up to the Lord in prayer that each might be the means of blessing, and even directing some soul into the way of life. Then with a kindly smile and a hearty ‘God bless you,’ she passed out and into another bar. Here sat a military man drinking with his wife. ‘Will you buy a “War Cry”‘? she asked. ‘No,’ came the rough answer. Then turning to the wife, an appeal was made. In a nervous, confused way the woman bent her head low, and sought for a penny for the paper. The husband seemed touched by his wife’s action which may have called to mind their better days. ‘Well, miss, I couldn’t buy a “War Cry,” as I like my beer, and I don’t want to be a hypocrite.’ But the cadet told him he could read a ‘War Cry’ even if he did like his beer, but she prayed in her heart that it might be the means of making him hate his beer.

The man and woman read interest and love in the young face, and as she left the place, with a ‘Good-night, and God bless you,’ the words echoed after her.

Crossing the road with renewed energy, she was soon within the doors of ‘The Little Bear,’ which was known as one of the roughest houses of that quarter. Sitting in the corner was an old man whom she asked to buy a ‘War Cry.’

‘Yes,’ he answered warmly, ‘after what you did after the air raid last week, I should think I would.’ Sitting huddled in another corner was a poor, wretched ‘drunk,’ ragged, dirty, and woe-begone. Seeing the Salvationist, and before she had opportunity of offering him a ‘War Cry,’ he held out a penny saying, ‘Here, give us one; I like you people.’ Before she left he was made to feel that The Army loved such as he–and who knows the result of that word?

‘The Lion’ had still to be attacked, but Ina had the value of her experience in ‘The Tiger’ and ‘The Bear,’ and no longer trembled. It was not all smooth sailing. We are not told if the lions in Daniel’s den lay down perfectly still, or whether some came close to him, sniffing and snarling; but we are told that they were powerless to hurt God’s child. Even in this vile place the devil could only go ‘so far.’ His servants seemed forced to give respect to God’s messenger in spite of themselves.

The saloon-keeper’s wife appeared on the scene and bought a ‘Young Soldier.’ Ina was quick to enrol her as a customer, and now, week by week, ‘The Young Soldier’ is handed to her little daughter with the prayer that her father and mother may be led to God. As Ina enters the saloon bar there is a respectful hush and the little missionary is able to sow the seed. A soldier is accosted who is on leave from the trenches. He tells of his troubles, of that terrible battle when he felt his need of God. Before she leaves him a tear is seen, as he promises to seek God. Many such incidents are happening week by week as she goes on her round. Only eternity will reveal the outcome of such efforts.

Is there another corps cadet who should take up this work?

Corps Cadet Ina writes of the influence of her spiritual mother upon her life:–

After I had become a Salvationist and longed to work as she had worked, she accompanied me to teach me the art of successful ‘saloon-raiding.’ She made several bar frequenters special cases. Sometimes she got them to give her their names, and these went on our special prayer list. We had cases in the saloons as well as the bar. If she could induce them to give their addresses, she would take me with her to visit them in their homes, or would keep in touch with them by writing. We had several conversions.

As we walked from one place to another, she would impress upon me the importance of keeping in the spirit. ‘It is not merely selling “The War Cry,”‘ she would say; ‘it is the grand opportunity of dropping words for God.’

As we see this warrior broken in health, undergoing continual treatment of a very painful nature, yet week by week accompanying the corps cadet to saloons in a district outlying the ordinary activities of an Army corps, we realize the truth of The General’s words:–

Her appetite grew by what it fed on. She loved sinners from the beginning, but she went on until she could not live without them. She was insatiable. Her soul could not be satisfied in any other way. She was always working for souls, seeking souls, knocking at the doors of mercy for souls, loving souls.

The corps cadet continues:–

I thank God for sending her into my life. For years she was The Salvation Army to me, all I knew of it; and years before I was permitted to go to a Salvation Army meeting, I had determined that God and The Army would have all my life.

Her life was wonderful. Even though ill and on rest she had a plan for every hour of the day. Sometimes she would visit the people. If they disappointed her she would try the harder to win them. She was always hunting round to help families in need.

She spent a great deal of time in writing, and when I would persuade her to leave her desk and come for a walk, she would give me what she termed, ‘Field Drill.’ Oh, those talks; how I treasure the memory of them! On one of the last occasions she said to me, ‘The sins of the world will do one of three things for you; they will either harden your heart, or break it, or soften it. _I want you to have a soft, tender heart_.’

Sometimes she would commend me; but, as a true friend, she would also reprimand me when I needed it, yet always in love, showing me where I might be better. She taught me how to study the Bible, and infused into my heart some of her love for it. ‘I mean to make the Bible my one book. It is one of my New Year’s resolutions,’ she told me at the beginning of this year, and at the same time mentioned a new idea which would make study of the Word of God more easy.

She taught me by example, as well as by what she said, to conquer by prayer.

When she was not writing articles or revising subject notes, she wrote letters to those she had been the means of blessing. Beautiful letters they were; sometimes she delighted me by dictating them and letting me type them for her.

Although she found her long periods of rest trying because of her great love for souls, she maintained a bright, beautiful spirit, and had a smile whenever one saw her. She compared her last few years to a long dark tunnel, and just before she died, when anticipating her new appointment, she said, ‘I really believe I’m coming to the end of it at last.’

Surely one of the most beautiful pictures in Kate Lee’s life is here. Ill, in a sense alone and amongst strangers, yet triumphant, filling the days with any little services that came to her hand, performing them as faithfully as she had performed her field duties in the glare of the limelight, and seeking to bring into one young life the spirit that would give to the world a warrior after her own heart, against the day that her own feet could no longer be swift and beautiful for God.

XV

AT HER DESK

In John Wesley’s house in the City Road, London, is a small room which was built expressly to be the prayer-chamber of the Founder of Methodism. When I entered the small sitting-room of one of Kate Lee’s field quarters, I was conscious of feelings of reverence similar to those which possessed me in Wesley’s prayer-room. There she had wrestled and prayed, planned and studied, written and interviewed callers who sought her help. It was holy ground.

The sitting-room of the little home which she enjoyed for the last two or three years of her life, was a reflex of her character in modesty, simplicity, and usableness. A soft green paper covered the walls, dark lino the floor, a rug or two here and there; a writing-desk, book-case, a cottage piano, a couple of easy chairs, and a couch completed the furniture. On the walls and mantleshelf were Army photos, a print of Christ at prayer; a few treasures, ‘with a meaning’ (her sister explains), picked up here and there as mementoes of her furloughs; a small French bronze of Jesus carrying His cross; a petrified bird’s nest, which has served as an object lesson in children’s meetings, and so on.

This quiet room was the dearest of retreats to Kate Lee. Here, with her sister, who anticipated her every wish and lavished love upon her, she shut the door upon the world with its turmoils, and gave herself up to study and rest. Her books were her greatest treasures. In them she enjoyed the company of the greatest and best of souls, who believed as she believed, fought for the things she counted worth while, and triumphed as she was endeavouring to triumph.

Her bookshelf contained, perhaps, one hundred volumes in all; chosen, as were all her small possessions, with an eye to the highest values.

A notebook furnishes a list of the books she read during her field service; they included The Founder’s and The Army Mother’s works, Finney’s ‘Revivals,’ many biographies, Meyer’s ‘Bible Characters,’ and more thoughtful studies such as Butler’s ‘Analogy.’ How she had managed time for reading during those busy, rushed days, is revealed in a reply to a young officer who had consulted her on self-improvement. She wrote, ‘I trained myself to read one chapter of some good book every day.’

To sit at the desk where Kate Lee had worked, open its drawers and draw out the contents, was to discover on everything the stamp of the principles which had governed her life. Everything was in perfect order. Here is her diary, a memorandum of coming events and engagements fulfilled; and her accounts. Here a locked box; in it a tiny leather bag, holding the balance of her ‘Lord’s money,’ with a reference to her diary for the exact amount due; also the covenant mentioned elsewhere. A much- worn ‘Where Is It?’ contains a record, with shorthand remarks, of every address she had delivered, in alphabetical order of the place where she had spoken. She commenced these entries at her second corps, nearly thirty years earlier, and by reference, could ascertain in a few minutes the addresses or lectures she had given on Holiness, Salvation, Social, or other subjects, whether in Sunderland, Brighton, Croydon, Thetford, or elsewhere. For her there was no unpleasant wondering as to whether she might repeat her subject on a return visit anywhere.

Kate had a peculiar shyness and reserve regarding her subject-notes. They were sacred to her; she had received them on her knees ‘in the mount,’ often in loneliness and tears. Commandant Lucy drew out from her sister’s desk three half-leather, locked volumes. She handled them gently, smiled and hesitated a moment, ‘No one but Kate has ever opened these,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I used to tease her, and pretend to take one up, but no, until the end that was not allowed.’

A key was inserted in one of the books, and it fell open. Treasure trove indeed! Six hundred pages of most carefully prepared subject-notes and illustrations on every imaginable topic that might appeal to the soul. Every page an example of method, care, and good taste.

Under bold, red headings, in her shapely, flowing hand, the various subjects are classified, and set out. The second volume is similar; the third is only half filled, and turning to the end it seems as though she anticipated that this was to be her last book, for there are personal notes and entries on the chief events of her life. The latter begins, ‘Born August 3, 1872; born again September 17, 1885. First bonnet, Alexandra Palace, 1887; Trade Headquarters, November 20, 1889. Commissioned Lieutenant, June 20, 1890. Chalk Farm Training Garrison, June 19, 1892.’ Then follow her appointments till the last, which appears in pencil, when she was ‘Awaiting appointment.’

There are mottoes she chose on New Year’s Day for many years. Among the number are ‘Keep thy Soul Diligently’; ‘Deal Courageously and Deal with the Ones ‘; ‘Obey, Bear, Seek’; ‘Stand by the Flag.’

The first of the subject-notes in the last of the volumes deals with Barabbas. One sees him in the dungeon, a thief, a terror. There is a picture of the world in his day. He is called to die. Christ appears. Christ dies for Barabbas.

The next notes are on ‘Life. How to view it. The Servant; the Mistress; the Workman; the Master; the Soldier; the Sergeant; the Local Officer; the Officer.’

Ezekiel seemed to have gripped the Adjutant’s imagination during the last year of her life; she had prepared several powerful addresses from his prophecies.

‘Paradise Lost’ and ‘Paradise Regained’ provides thought for several closely-packed pages. Then follow a series of addresses to young people on Good Behaviour. I. At Home. II. In the Street. III. In The Salvation Army Citadel. IV. Toward the Opposite Sex. V. On Tobacco. VI. Reading.

There are comprehensive notes on Christianity.

Notes of a Session at the College for Staff Officers.

Twenty closely written pages on the Bible. How written? Why so called? Written by whom? Notes on each book. Translations, etc.

Madam Guyon on prayer.

Many pages on ‘Preaching’ being expressions from master preachers, showing how to capture the souls of men.

To fill over one thousand pages with careful, close writing, took time. But Kate Lee did no fancy work; she never gossiped; she kept no pets; she did not even ‘garden’; she seldom went for a walk except on a mission. She cared only for those things that would forward the Kingdom of God, and while some played with shells and made sand castles that a day’s tide swept away, she delved in the King’s mines, finding precious things wherewith to serve the Holy War.

Kate gathered in order to give out again. Her gift of expression was small at the beginning, but she so stirred it up and improved it, that, with increasing ease, she was able by both spoken and written word to express her thoughts in simple, direct English that reached hearts. The knowledge grew upon her that she would not always be able for public work, and she determined to prepare herself to appeal to souls by her pen. In her last letter to her sister, she wrote:–

There are one or two things I would like you to see to for me. In the cupboard, under my writing-desk, you will find some articles I have written. No. 1. ‘Temples of Fire.’ It is a subject that has been upon my soul for a long time. I did not offer this series for publication as I intended to shape it up again. I hardly know if the articles will be considered worth accepting; but if something could be done with them, I should be glad.

There is another series I was trying to write on ‘The Master’s Locals.’ You will also find, ‘The Story of Jesus,’ and ‘Thoughts about the Cross,’ and several other little articles. I am afraid none of them are up to the mark, but if anything could be done with them to help souls, I should rejoice.

These manuscripts show how she spared herself no pains to prepare a message. Over and over again she would draft a sentence, a page, or an article until she felt the message to be arresting. Then she sent it forth with much love and prayer. When it appeared in print–often anonymously–sometimes under her name or initials, she delighted and wondered that God gave to her the broad platform of The Army publications. The following articles, both of which appeared in ‘The War Cry,’ indicate something of the fresh, crisp heart messages that she gave to saint and sinner from her platform. When pressed by editors of The Army publications for an article, she took some hours from her sleep in order to prepare them for the press. Kate did not speak from notes. She had in her Bible a few headings on a sheet of paper, but having prepared her subject with great prayerfulness, after reading the Scriptures she left the reading desk, and in the simplicity and earnestness of her pure soul, freely gave out her message.

A GLORIOUS CLEANSING
_’Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean’_ (Matthew viii. 2)

The story of the leper is, to my mind, one of the most wonderful stories in the Bible, as it so forcibly illustrates how God looks upon and deals with sin. Leprosy was in the days of Christ an acknowledged type of sin, and we see in the condition of the leper a picture of its utter loathsomeness.

I fancy I see the poor fellow outside the city gate–cut off from his home and friends.

But they do not forget him, and each morning some loved one–a mother, perhaps–at an early hour comes to the gate and there places a little basket of provisions sufficient for his needs of the day. Then she goes away, and from a distance watches the poor creature draw near, and take the much-needed food. One morning the basket must, I fancy, have contained, in addition to the food, a message which, as the poor leper reads, brings a ray of hope into his wretched, weary life.

The note tells of Jesus, the wonderful Christ, who is going about healing all kinds of incurable diseases, and even raising the dead to life.

‘Oh, if only _you_ could _see_ Him! If only you could get near enough to Jesus, there might be a chance for you, my poor boy!’ his mother may have written.

As he reads, his poor face brightens as he murmurs to himself, ‘Yes, I will try, I will risk all; I will chance the consequences.’

Let us look at him a moment. Here is vileness indeed, a very type of impurity; and here we see how sin looks in the eyes of God.

His limbs swollen, his hair white, tumours appear on his jaws, his breath noisome, and his whole person fitted to inspire loathing.

Leprosy is infectious and of slow progress. It begins within the body, and throws out a moisture which corrupts the outside, and covers it with a kind of white scale. It is said that the body becomes so hot that a fresh apple held but an hour in the hand will be withered and wrinkled. The parts of the body infected become insensible, and in time fall off.

The leper is conscious that he is vile. He wears the leper’s garment, and day by day from his lips comes the mournful cry, ‘Unclean, unclean!’

Then, the leper is not only conscious of his vileness, and acknowledges it, but he despairs of cleansing. He knows that unless some Supreme Power intervenes death will ensue.

It was, perhaps, his desperate condition which led this leper, of whom we speak, to break, with heroic courage, through the ceremonial law, and to expose himself to the risk of being stoned to death that he might cast himself at the Saviour’s feet.

See him venturing through the gate into the city to find Jesus. And when at last he approaches the place where he expected to see Jesus, he discovers to his great disappointment that the Lord has gone up the mountain side.

I fancy I see the leper crouching, waiting, and watching for Jesus. At last, that wonderful Form appears, and comes down the mountain with a great crowd following.

How can he get to Jesus? is the leper’s first thought. With a dash and the cry,’ Unclean!’ which causes the crowd to make way and shrink back in horror, he rushes forward and prostrates himself at the feet of Jesus. ‘Lord, if Thou wilt,’ he cries, ‘Thou canst make me clean.’

Here we see the vast difference between curiosity and need. The crowd follow out of curiosity. The leper flings himself in abandon at Jesus’ feet because of his need. _Need_ alone will make a man really come to Jesus. The soul that feels its need, and realizes its sin, will make an effort–a dash to get to God.

Listen to the leper’s prayer! ‘Lord.’ He owns Jesus as his Lord. He makes a complete, unconditional, and unreserved surrender, and feels his helplessness! Only God can save him! That is the way to come to Jesus!

His was a model prayer–simple, short, direct. It was grounded in a glorious faith in the power of Christ to heal; a prayer that did not limit God; believed, indeed, that with Him nothing was impossible.

It is well to recollect that God has never failed with a case yet. Those who have wandered the farthest away from Him, those who have sunk the lowest, He can restore, and will never turn His ear from a prayer fashioned like that of the leper’s.

I fancy I see the breathless crowd shrinking back in horror! I fancy, too, that I hear those clear, beautiful words ring forth: ‘I will; be thou clean.’ But Jesus not only speaks; to the astonishment of the crowd, He puts forth His hand and _touches_ the leper. That touch may have been a violation of the letter of the law, but not of the spirit. Jesus knew His touch would give healing to the leper, and not pollution to Himself.

At the cry of the leper, Jesus touched him immediately, true figure of God’s readiness to forgive and cleanse sin.

Jesus is the same to-day. He deals with sin and the sinner in the same way. If you will come in the same spirit as the leper, His hand will be immediately stretched forth to save.

When Jesus touched the leper I can picture the crowd drawing nearer. They watch the wonderful change take place. A flush passes over the leper’s pale face, the despairing look gives way to an overwhelming look of joy. The cringing stoop and feeble gait change to an upright attitude and a firm tread. See him going to show himself to the priest. He is commanded to ‘tell no one,’ but as he goes he meets an old friend. The temptation is too great; he tells him what has happened, and then another and another. He cannot keep the truth in, but blazes it abroad.

Oh! If you would find Christ you must push through the difficulties and the hindrances that would keep you away from Him. If, in the spirit of the leper, you come as you are, conscious of your sin, confessing it with faith in God’s power to cleanse you, you will hear the selfsame words from those gracious lips: ‘I will; be thou clean,’ and immediately your leprosy, your sin, will leave you.

I see the new creation rise,
I hear the speaking Blood;
It speaks! Polluted nature dies, Sinks ‘neath the cleansing Flood.

The cleansing Stream I see, I see, I plunge, and, Oh it cleanseth me!
Oh, praise the Lord, it cleanseth me! It cleanseth me, yes, cleanseth me!

* * * * *

HARVESTS: JOY AND SORROW
_’The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few’_ (Matthew ix. 37)

As we read these words of the Master we fancy we can see His benign and majestic Presence as He stops and, turning round, looks not upon the beautiful harvest fields, with waving corn, but upon the vast field of the world, with its teeming masses of humanity.

So many are ready to look upon the cornfields of gain, to look for something to fill their baskets and store, but hearts like the Master’s are wanted that see the great harvest fields of humanity, all ripe and ready to be gathered in. Hearts are wanted that will not only go out in sentimental sympathy, but that will give a helping hand, where it is required, leaving the fields of gain, and toiling for love amidst human need. There seem to be two thoughts in the mind of the Master. As He speaks He strikes two notes–one of joy, and one of sorrow.

A plentiful harvest always brings joy. Another harvest of the earth is being gathered, and as I write I am looking upon the golden cornfields, and see the men all busily engaged. Thank God for plenty!

Do we praise God sufficiently for His mercies? Do we always value them? Sometimes we do not fully appreciate them until they are withdrawn.

It seems to me that if the Master walked our crowded cities, He would repeat again those words, ‘Truly the harvest is plenteous.’ Plenty to reap; only labourers are wanted to go out. The masses are still there; the need is for some one to go to the masses.

Then the note of sorrow seems to drown and spoil the note of joy. ‘The harvest is plenteous’–rejoice! ‘But the labourers are few’–cause for sorrow. The masses are there–the opportunity–but so few to take hold of it. Corn to be gathered in, but few reapers.

The harvest was plenteous in the time of Christ, but it is even more so now. The people are waiting for us, they expect us and look to us, who are the followers of Christ, to go to their help!

Oh, the open doors! Was the door of the public ear ever more ready to listen to us than at the present time? Those who once turned a deaf ear, and did not believe in us, now say, ‘Yes, you are right. You have got the right thing, and are doing the right thing.’

Were people ever more ready to open their doors to us than they are now? How they appreciate the visit of the Salvationist! The doors, too, of the workhouses, the prisons, the hospitals are opening more widely to us.

Yes, the people are ready to open their hearts to us. The poor drunkard, as he rolls from one side of the road to the other, exclaims when he sees a Salvationist, ‘God–bless–General–Booth!’

The masses may not always rush as excitedly after us as they once did –there are so many counter-attractions now–but they are there. We must go to them; they need us.

I have heard the story of a little boy who lost his mother, and was found lying upon her grave weeping and praying. Some one who had felt moved to do something for the motherless boy discovered him in this position. ‘Jesus has sent me to you!’ said the lady. ‘I am going to love you as my own little boy.’ ‘Oh,’ he said, through his tears as he looked up as though he had been expecting her, ‘so Jesus has sent you! You have been a long time coming though, haven’t you?’

Do the sinners and drunkards feel we are a long time coming, because the labourers are too few, and you have kept back from becoming one?

Above the note of joy, above the plentiful harvest, rings out so loudly the note of sorrow–‘But the labourers are few!’ How few in comparison to the masses! So few labourers who will put off the coat of formality, who will pull up the sleeve of ease! Few who will work by the sweat of their brow and make a sacrifice for souls! Sacrifice is needed in God’s service to-day as much as ever, and never was there a more urgent call for men and women who, like our precious General, can say, ‘I am never out of it; I sleep in it; I shall die in it.’ Nothing worth anything can be accomplished without sacrifice.

How many are there in God’s service who merely look on? More are wanted who will work. The success of The Army has been because of its willingness to come down to the level of the people–to strive to save them. A reckless dying to self is what is needed. Was it not dying made the harvest? The dying is part of the success. The grain was dropped into the ground, and died before it could spring forth and produce living results. There must be the dying to sin, and to self, and self-interests.

Men and women of heart are wanted–men and women, who in seeking souls will give themselves up in the spirit of the champion aviator who said, ‘If I had not succeeded I should not have been here. I was determined to win, or die in the attempt.’

Labourers are wanted who will dig right deep down into the heart of sorrow, and find those desires and longings after purity and goodness which even the heart itself scarcely realizes are there.

In the man of the world, though one would hardly believe it as one sees the cynical look and sneer and hears him say, ‘I don’t want your church–your Army!’ there is underneath, in spite of his apparent indifference, a longing after God and a disgust of the world.

Men and women are wanted to grapple with the vast harvest–this great opportunity–and to gather in God’s sheaves. Oh, to leave the world of vice and folly as naked as the earth is after the harvest! Empty public-houses! Empty gambling dens! Empty abodes of impurity! Empty slums! Empty all places where God is not! But thanksgiving in the home; the House of God filled with rejoicing people, telling out of hearts of gladness that labourers came into the fields of sin and gathered them in.

Many letters, folded and handled until almost worn to pieces, but treasured above gold, lie before me. They are addressed to Kate Lee’s spiritual children, to the sick, the discouraged, or those living far from an Army hall and rarely able to get to the meetings. These letters are short, often mere notes of one page, rarely running into more than two or three folios; and they are not clever. Kate had little imagination in her make up; she did not see pictures wherever her eyes lit, and never had time to give to studied composition. The value of these letters to us is that any ordinary girl, anyone with a heart ‘at leisure from itself’ could write such letters. Over and over again in The Army Founder’s life we find him saying, ‘It is _heart_ work we want. HEART work.’ It is because Kate Lee’s letters came from a heart full of love that they reached hearts and never failed to bless them.

She had a delightful way of remembering the anniversary of some of her trophies’ conversion. She called them birthdays. Here is a little scrap to a man battling bravely against ill health and other adversities:–

I am enclosing a Money Order for five shillings so that you can get some little thing for yourself or your wife. Just a little birthday gift for _your twelfth birthday_. God bless you! Keep near to Jesus and do all in your power to lead those around you to Him. Praise Him that He has kept you all these years. He is a wonderful Saviour and worthy of our praise.

No work of art was so beautiful in the eyes of Kate Lee as the photographs of men and women to whom God had given ‘beauty for ashes.’ She writes to one:–

The photo is lovely–I am proud of you. It gives me real joy to hear that you are still wheeling your barrow around and reminding souls of Eternity. Give my love to your precious wife.

To a man just lifted from a pit of sin, and whose feet still tottered, she wrote:–

I cannot call and see you as I am away until Friday night Then I shall look for you at the meeting. I have asked a comrade or so to call and see you. I am praying much for you. Hold on to God, and He will prosper you and bless you, and soon, if you only serve Him with all your heart, things will be so different with you and your dear family.

To one in deep bereavement:–

I wish I had been home when the letter came so that I could have sent you word by the next post. In these trying hours I rejoice that you are fully the Lord’s, and can trust Him. We cannot understand why sorrow and bereavement should touch us, but God allows it in love.

She regarded the ‘funniosities’ of people with a large indulgence. One old comrade who had put on the uniform during her command at his corps, believed that no one could buy a jersey and cap so well as ‘the dear Adjutant,’ so wherever she was, he sent to her when he needed new uniform.

Her Christmas remembrances did not take the form of considerable presents to special friends or comrades who might remember her in return. Rather, her love overflowed in a flood of loving messages. Calendars, leaflets, cards costing only a penny or two, with just a word of greeting, flew in all directions, carrying the remembrance of her smile, her voice, and her faith and prayer that her comrades and friends would press on through sacrifice and service to victory.

But it would seem that the letters she most loved to write were to young officers and those who wished to become officers. She counselled one: ‘Seek God with all your heart. If you will pay the price of letting Him have all His way, He will fill you with a passion for souls.’

To a young captain she wrote a few weeks before her promotion to Glory:–

There is nothing in the world like soul-winning. If you will only give up yourself wholly to it, and let God fit you for it, He, who is no respecter of persons, can do for you as much as for any other soul whom He has called.

I have found one of the greatest helps to soul-winning, next to Bible study and prayer, is the reading of helpful books. I know that the officer who does her duty to the people has little free time, but I used to make myself spend a certain time each day in study, and kept a note book to make notes of any paragraph that impressed me so that I would not forget the thoughts which inspired me. Have you read ‘Tongues of Fire,’ by William Arthur; S. D. Gordon’s ‘Quiet Talks on Prayer’? To read such books on your knees, drinking in the wonderful truths they set forth, would help you towards the realization of all your desires.

Kate Lee loved girls in their teens, and they were much drawn to her.

Some officers who excel in helping the rag-tag class of young people, as Kate Lee did, fight shy of those of refined training and better education. This may possibly arise from a dread lest these keen young folk may take their soundings and soon ‘touch bottom’ in many directions. Kate feared nothing. Common-sense, an even balance, and true love count most with the young, and of these qualities she had abundance.

Major Mary Booth says:–

Dear Angel Adjutant! How I loved her! Miriam and I, when we were in our early teens, did several week-ends for her and I was much impressed by her love for the poor. Her zeal, and the influence of it, remains with me to-day. After the meetings were over, Miriam and I, when taking supper with the Adjutant, often stayed till one o’clock in the morning, listening to her tales of the poor drunkards. I remember specially one night, she tried to drag us to bed, but we finished by getting her to sit down on the stairs and tell us some more of her thrilling experiences.

The following extracts from letters show her winsome way of helping them to aim at the best things:–

I have started a series of articles on the ‘Five Senses,’ and felt you would like to help me. Will you keep your eyes open for illustrations bearing on the subject, spiritual or otherwise, and pass them on to me. I have the subject in my mind and keep finding fresh material for it; if you will help me, you will have a share in the outcome by and by, if the idea develops satisfactorily.

From another letter:–

I am sending you ‘The Life of The General.’ It is only a cheap copy, but I saw it on the bookstall last night, and thought you would like to have it. It is so wonderful to see how God raised him up and used him as His instrument. It shows what wonderful things God can do when one is fully yielded to Him, and what responsibility rests upon us each. If William Booth had held back, we see what he would have missed, and his great work would have been left undone.

Still another:–

I am feeling concerned about you. You must not let yourself get down. Nerves can be conquered, and you know where to get strength to rise above them. I am praying for you and believe God will do great things for you. Do not be surprised that training is necessary and that the training comes in the way we should prefer not.

Then she turns the girl’s thoughts away from herself and concludes with, ‘Pray for me.’

XVI

UNEXPECTED ORDERS

Kate Lee’s last five years were as the life of a bird with a broken wing. She struggled hard to do as she had ever done, but again and again had to admit that her strength had failed. Following the operation which closed her work on the field, she spent a year under drastic and painful surgical treatment. When sufficient strength was recovered to enable her to undertake an appointment under the eye of her doctor, she was promoted to the rank of Staff-Captain and saw two brief periods of service at the International Training Garrison in London, and a few months in the Candidates’ Department at Headquarters. Then another breakdown, and another year’s furlough.

Her health again improving, to her great delight the Staff-Captain was re-appointed to the Training Garrison, this time as Secretary of Field Training. Twelve months of golden service followed. She revelled in her work amongst the women cadets, who, under her holy, gracious influence, were trained in the arts of service on the field. She had a remarkable influence upon the cadets. They knew her record, and accepted her because of that; but coming close up to her they rejoiced in her as a teacher and a leader because of what they found her to be. The cadets delighted in her classes. She made the field work appear to be the most glorious calling on earth. She inspired the weakest girl with hope that she might rise and excel if she would be at pains to grip herself and make the most of the talents and opportunities God had given her. She held herself up as an example of what God can do with a timid girl who was so entirely yielded to Him as never to say ‘I can’t.’

The air raids on London were very severe during that twelve months. One Saturday night, Leyton suffered terribly, and on Sunday morning, Staff- Captain Lee with a detachment of cadets arrived to minister to the needs of the terrified, and in many cases, homeless people. The police at once gave them right-of-way in the distressed area.

There were lodgings to arrange for people whose homes were in ruins, letters and messages to send to anxious relatives, terrified little children and the elder people to comfort and provide food for. The Staff- Captain was in her glory. Her cheerful face, ringing voice, and capable management had a remarkably soothing and steadying effect upon the distressed people, while the cadets revelled in the service she set them to perform.

To be included in a campaign led by Staff-Captain Lee was a great delight to the cadets chosen for this privilege. This the twelve sergeants [Footnote: Probation Officers selected to assist in the work of Training.] enjoyed in the recess between the sessions. Southend, during holiday season, was the place chosen for the attack. House-to-house visitation, open-air ‘bombardments’ among the holiday crowds, and great meetings in the citadel were included in the attack. The first to lead the way of eighty seekers for pardon or purity was a little child, unaccustomed to Salvation Army meetings. Dressed in white, with wistful, earnest face, the little one had listened to the Staff-Captain’s message, and when the invitation was given she came forward, looking up to the platform with inquiring, wondering eyes. Then at the penitent-form the Staff-Captain pointed the little one to Jesus. She loved to rescue the drunkard and criminal from the pit of sin, but to lead a little child to the Saviour was the dearest joy of all to Kate Lee. The following day she visited the child in her home; her parents both sought the Lord and became Salvation soldiers.

The Staff-Captain’s example amongst the cadets was more powerful than her word. One tells of a week-end visit to Shepherd’s Bush with a brigade, and one of her local officers asking if she couldn’t spare half a day to visit his home, to which she replied, ‘You know me better than to think that is in my line.’ She was away with her cadets by eight-thirty next morning.

Many are the loving, tender memories of the cadets she trained. Those who, by reason of long distance or for other reasons, could not go home for Christmas, reckoned they were privileged to remain at the garrison because of the tender love Staff-Captain Lee expended on them, whom she feared might feel lonely and deprived at the Christmas season.

After recess came a transfer for a few months to The Army’s Holiday Home at Ramsgate, where it was hoped that the good air and freedom from heavy responsibility would re-establish her health. The officers to whose comfort she ministered during the holiday months, recall sweet memories of her influence. One says:–

She was wonderfully gentle in spirit. But about her was a strength and authority that made one feel all the while the presence of a superior soul; that one must be at his best in her company. In guiding the conversation at the table she showed a winsome discretion; pleasant, bright topics were the order; she enjoyed wholesome fun and encouraged it, but unkind criticism and sarcasm could not live under her eyes.

Another writes of her sweetness to the little children who stayed in the Home; how they remembered the stories she told them, and her quaint little grace before meals, which they adopted for home use.

Receiving word to return to London and prepare for a foreign appointment, she came on wings of joy. Her doctor gave her a reassuring report, and to her friends she sent notes of pure happiness, telling that at last after six years of hoping against hope, her doctor had given her a clean ‘bill of health’ and she was well enough for service in any part of the world. She had not the strength of former days for field work, but somewhere in America, Australia, or Canada, she was to be appointed to training work. How she would love the girls committed to her charge. How she would pray over them, travail in spirit for them, until she saw the passion of Christ born in them, and they go out to do the work that had been her delight.

Her face glowed with joy; her eyes sparkled; her feet skipped; her hand gripped as she told her comrades, ‘I’m good for ten years yet.’ She went to her dressmaker with the palpitating joy of a bride-elect. She sorted her papers; tore from their mounts and rolled the photos of her field associations; chose a few of her favourite pictures and packed them. All was ready, and waiting orders she spent the days at her desk, or visiting her spiritual children. She appeared to be so well. Then, bronchitis, which foggy weather always induced, laid her up for some days.

Her sister Lucy watched her with a strange misgiving at her heart. Kate had always been of an independent disposition, had despised breakfast in bed, but for a week or two she accepted this indulgence without resistance. The least noise pained her, and the loving, mother-sister crept about in soft slippers, pondering things in her heart but saying nothing, until one morning she declared, ‘Little dear, I think it’s more than a bottle of bronchitis medicine you need; I’m going to ask the doctor to call.’ Kate was resting somewhat listlessly, but at that word she rose, the commander in every tone of her voice. ‘Indeed, no! I’m not very grand this morning, but not that. If you’re late for the office, of course you must give a reason, and no idea that I’m not fit must get around.’

‘But—-‘ persisted Lucy.

‘Well, you can go to-night if you still feel so,’ compromised Kate, and smiled her sister away.

The following day the doctor called, and gave an opinion that hastened a specialist to the tiny cottage. He was a kind man and shrank from giving a verdict that meant a full stop to this precious life. An immediate operation was the only hope to save life, and this was arranged.

From the first, Kate Lee felt she was going “Home.” She wrote to a special friend, ‘I have my appointment; very different from what I expected; but all’s well. I am in His will.’ The comrade hastened to her to learn the news, ‘Where are you going?’ she asked. ‘To another country altogether–to Heaven,’ she replied.

There was a wondrous peacefulness about the little home as those two gentle women made preparations for the hospital.

Kate’s last day at home was spent chatting with her sister, writing letters settling personal affairs, and resting.

Down to the very brink of the River she wrestled for souls. The last letter she wrote that day was to Lieut.-Colonel Mary Bennett, of the Women’s Social Work, in London, whose interests she had enlisted in a woman addicted to drugs. She writes, ‘I am feeling concerned about her. I meant to do my part fully in helping you, and am grieved to fail you in this way.’ Then she mentions her sudden illness and continues on the subject of self-denial (Self-Denial Week was to begin the following Saturday),’ I was trying to give you a little surprise, and, as I have no special target this year, felt I would like to do a little for your home. As this has come it will not be much I am afraid, but I have three pounds for you which we have both collected. My sister will bring it over.’ Her personal Self-Denial gift had gone to give another corps a lift. She was full of hope that the corps were having a good Sunday.

The morning of her last day at home, the corps cadet whom she had come to call ‘my little Leff,’ was with her. She writes:–

I will never forget that talk; she went over the names of her dear, saved drunkards, one by one, giving me messages for some I would see. She urged me to continue praying for them, if the Lord called her Home. She said it would be a luxury to slip away; then, sitting up in bed and looking right into my face, she said, ‘Little Leff, _those are the people I want you to live for. You do, and you will love them, won’t you?_’ With the tears running down my face, I promised that I would do so.

A few days under observation at the Mildmay Hospital, to which she was admitted and cared for with much tenderness not only for Christ’s sake, as is the purpose of that excellent institution towards sufferers, but for her work’s sake, then came the operation. The warrior spirit entered into fires of suffering that she had not hitherto felt; but while the flesh shrank, her faith triumphed. Her sister, who had hovered about her bed during the week, spent the Sunday with her. Even then, those women held themselves at attention at the call to service, and, at the request of the Sister of the ward Kate occupied before the operation, Commandant Lucy left her sister’s side and conducted a service with the patients.

Kate felt that she had not much longer to live, and reaching for her writing pad and pen, she wrote a last message of love for her sister and brother. Her sister found the letters in her blotter after Kate had ‘gone home.’ To her she wrote:–

I am writing this line in case I do not see your dear face again, as I want you to have a last message of love. It will not be long until we meet again, and you can think of me watching for you. I do not want to leave you all alone, but the thought that to-morrow I may see His face thrills my soul, and it would be easy to slip away. I am very tired, but I want to finish my course, and am quite willing to face the struggle again if it is His will…. Now, my own treasure, I cannot write more, but must say one great big thank you for all you have done for me, and for all the love you have lavished upon me.

The next morning when Lucy saw Kate again, she was sure that soon her precious sister would see the King in His beauty. What the separation would mean to her no one would fully know; but, as ever, forgetful of herself, she sat beside her, smiled and said brightly, ‘Little love, if you see mother before I do, tell her I’m coming.’ Back came Kate’s ready smile, and she replied, ‘Rather!’ so naturally that for a moment it seemed impossible that she was on the borderland of earth.

But soon the brave spirit became troubled. ‘What is it, little love?’ asked Lucy.

‘Oh, the people, the people! _I haven’t the heart to send them away_.’ moaned Kate. Her mind was wandering, and the ruling passion of her life, in death was strong upon her. She was out amongst the crowds, seeing their sins and their sorrows, and their needs, and in a dim way was conscious that she no longer had power to serve them.

‘Darling, do not worry any more; you have loved them and sought them all these years, and now you’re going to rest,’ said Lucy. The words reached her ears, but she shook her head, _’I haven’t the heart to send them away,’_ she moaned.

Faithful, brave little follower of The Army’s Founder, in life; even to her deathbed there came an echo from his. In his blindness, William Booth had mourned to his daughter, ‘Oh, the sins, the sins of the people!’ He went into eternity, sighing for the sins and sorrows of the world.

But further back than the human, we can trace this spirit. The Saviour, looking upon a multitude of needy souls, is saying, _’I have compassion on the multitude; I cannot send them away.’_ William Booth caught the spirit of Christ; he lived it; breathed it into thousands of his followers, of whom there has not fought and triumphed in life and death a truer saint and soldier than Kate Lee, the Angel Adjutant.

We conclude this sketch of her career with some words of General Bramwell Booth: ‘I pray that many of those who knew her, and of those who did not know her,’ he says, ‘may be stirred up by the testimony of her life and death to walk in the same path, and so glorify God and bless their fellows.’