
Months later, he was released. A man so broken it was a miracle he could walk. He began to search for his beloved wife. He went to the place where they used to live. He saw a child sitting in the dirt, a little girl so covered with filth that he failed to recognize her as his own daughter. As he staggered into the tent, he saw Anne. She was only a bundle of bones and rags on a cot, so weak and frail she looked like a skeleton. Her beautiful hair had fallen out and her bright blue eyes stared blankly out at nothing. Hugging his daughter to his chest, he knelt down and wept, “Anne, Anne, O my darling Anne.” His hot tears fell on her face and slowly her eyes began to move with recognition. She struggled to speak and her last words were, “Hang on, Adoniram, God will give us the victory.”
He lost his sweetheart, but not his faith, his loved one, but not his courage. He began to preach again, and when he died he left behind scores of churches and hundreds of Christian converts. In the midst of the worse life could throw his way, he never lost his faith, Anne never lost sight of the fact that God is the King! He is in control. He will be victorious. O Worship the King!




