Electronic Resource
E-book Robin hood
Has the age of miracle quite gone by, or is it still possible to the
Voice of Faith calling aloud upon the earth to wring from the dumb
heavens an audible answer to its prayer? Does the promise uttered by
the Master of mankind upon the eve of the end--"Whoso that believeth
in Me, the works that I do he shall do also . . . and whatsoever ye
shall ask in My name, that will I do"--still hold good to such as do
ask and do believe?
Let those who care to study the history of the Rev. Thomas Owen, and
of that strange man who carried on and completed his work, answer this
question according to their judgment. The time was a Sunday afternoon in summer, and the place a church in
the Midland counties. It was a beautiful church, ancient and spacious;
moreover, it had recently been restored at great cost. Seven or eight
hundred people could have found sittings in it, and doubtless they had
done so when Busscombe was a large manufacturing town, before the
failure of the coal supply and other causes drove away its trade. Now
it was much what it had been in the time of the Normans, a little agricultural village with a population of 300 souls. Out of this
population, including the choir boys, exactly thirty-nine had elected
to attend church on this particular Sunday; and of these, three were
fast asleep and four were dozing.
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