ONCE IN CHICAGO, Miss Wing was employed as a ste­nographer in the administrative offices of the church until the end of the year (1901). Then she was selected to be the secretary to Henry Stevenson, the manager of what was to be Zion City’s basic and largest manufac­turing concern, Zion Lace Industries. To be chosen for this responsible position indicates something of the es­teem in which she was held, for in addition to her secre­tarial duties this position included the spiritual oversight of the women employees of the factory. Early in 1902 she moved to Zion City, which had been officially opened the previous July, and so became an active pioneer in the building of a theocratic society, a community to be ruled by God and His laws alone, — one of the very last ventures in the United States of the kind which had brought her forefathers to this “strange country.” Miss Wing’s first place of residence in Zion City was Edina Hospice. In reality a small hotel, it had been erected to house the employees, of the Lace Factory and other workers and prospective settlers until other living quar­ters might be available. Here the residents lived together “in harmony and peace and purity as one large family.” Operated by one of the officers of the church, the spirit­ual life of this large family was under the oversight of one of its ministers. For a time Miss Wing conducted the home’s daily family worship and taught a Bible class there - after the long working hours, of course. During one of these classes Miss Wing was led to teach about the Christian’s thought life, using as the lesson text, Philippians 4:8: Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. This command, the teacher pointed out, was written, not simply to be read, but to be obeyed literally by every true Christian. As a result of her teaching on this sub­ject, every one in the home was stirred to action. The waitresses, for example, agreed with each other to govern their table conversation by this verse. When one of the girls would start to tell a story, perhaps a bit of gossip just overheard in the dining room, she would be asked, “Is it true?” If she was not sure it was, then she could not go on with it. If, however, it passed this test, the story was subjected to the other standards enumerated in the verse. Perhaps it would pass all the tests until some­one asked, “But is it lovely and of good report?” If there was any question about this, it was automatically elimi­nated from the conversation. The men, too, undertook to obey this verse minutely in their quarters. One man was accustomed to play music on his violin which, while good in itself — probably even classical, — reminded another man of the sinful life from which he had been delivered. After he had mentioned this fact, the violinist felt he should refrain from playing such numbers which could cause his brother to think im­pure thoughts and thereby to offend. Naturally the effects of obeying this very simple and practical command revolutionized the spiritual life of the home, and its effects were felt and remembered many years later by those who participated in this effort to think and speak only those things which were “pleasing in His sight.” Miss Wing’s ministry in the home and factory was only a part of her Christian service. Eager to bring the gospel of salvation, healing, and holy living to those still in darkness, in the spring of 1902, she led a group of work­ers from the home and factory to go to the neighboring cities of Waukegan and Kenosha to do house-to-house visi­tation each Sunday morning and to hold open-air meetings. One of the most earnest participants in these various activities was a tall, handsome gentleman, Henry Walker Robinson. One of the early settlers of the city, he had come in 1901 from Toronto, Canada, together with his close friend, William Marlatt. Having heard that God was “in the midst of her,” Mr. Robinson came to Zion City, in the first instance, evidently to find out whether these things were so. “I had a battle before I became reconciled to the teaching of Zion. At last I realized that I was not right with God, and I became convinced that Zion was of God. I asked . . . people to pray for me. That prayer was answered and God has blessed me.” Born in England, April 7, 1874, Harry, as he was always called, migrated at an early age with his parents, Thomas and Eliza Jope Robinson, to Canada. An only son, he was the pride and joy of his mother, who devotedly cared for his every need. As a young man, he felt the call of God to the ministry and had engaged in Christian work. In the Home and in the work of the Lord, Harry Rob­inson and Martha Wing were thrown into daily contact. A man of some culture beyond his fellows, pleasant and witty, and at the same time a zealous Christian worker, Harry was indeed attractive. Soon he and Martha found they had a number of common interests which made for congeniality. Ere long, the inevitable happened: Harry became Martha’s ardent suitor. Quite some time before Martha Wing had ever met Harry Robinson, she had received the conviction in her soul that God desired her to remain unmarried that she might care only “for the things of the Lord” and “attend upon the Lord without distraction.” Dr. Dowie however, very definitely encouraged all the young women of his church to get married, bear children, and raise them for God and Zion. After all, Dr. Dowie had been right about so many things, and she knew it was certainly possible that she could be mistaken. Yet, there was the deep con­viction in her soul which, to the best of her knowledge, had been given her by God. Martha Wing was in the valley of decision. What should she do? There was only one thing which she desired in this world — the will of God. Of that she was absolutely certain, whether it meant for her to be single or to be married. But the contradictory ideas and advice she was given brought her into confusion. At length, however, she turned him down. Conscientiously and diligently Martha Wing pursued her appointed tasks, in the office, the Home, and the harvest field, while all about her there was the feverish, bustling activity incident to the building of a city. Some idea of the rapid and phenomenal growth of Zion City may be gathered from the fact that in less than nine months from the day that the gates of the city had been opened for settlers, it became “an incorporated city under the laws of the State of Illinois” (March 31, 1902). On the same day the city’s one house “for the worship and service of God,” Shiloh Tabernacle, designed to seat 6,300 people, was consecrated to God. Erected within forty-six days, much of the work was done “in the very dead of winter,” at a time when the ground was so hard that it was necessary “to use blasting powder in making excava­tions.” (Within a year this building would have to be en­larged to accommodate 8,000 people!) Ten weeks later (June 19, 1902) Elijah Hospice, a large hotel which was to serve the same function as Zion Home had in Chicago, was formally opened. Not counting the public rooms, such as the dining room, it had 345 rooms. At that time, it was said that there were only two other frame hotels in the United States larger than this. Here guests, especially the sick seeking healing, were enter­tained; some of the out-of-town ministers of the church made it their home when returning for a visit or in the interim when they were being transferred from one charge to another. Still others made it their regular home. Here it was in the late summer that Miss Wing took up her residence, after she had spent some time — probably her vacation — ministering in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. Here, too, it was in September, 1902, that Miss Wing first came into personal contact with the two ministers with whom she would later be most closely associated in the work of the Lord — Elder and Mrs. Eugene Brooks. One of the testimonies to divine healing which had deeply impressed Miss Wing when she first read the Leaves of Healing was that of Mrs. Brooks, then Sara M. Leggett of Chesley, Ontario, Canada. Dying from a “blood tumor of a malignant form,” according to the doctor’s di­agnosis, Sara Leggett had been taken on a stretcher from her home to Chicago, some five hundred miles, where, in answer to Dr. Dowie’s prayer of faith, she had been instantly healed. The detailed testimony of her months of struggle and of how the Lord Himself had led her step by step had been a great inspiration and encouragement to Miss Wing during her own period of seeking healing. Since then she had been married to Elder Eugene Brooks, a capable, successful minister. (In one of his pas­torates there had been an increase of five hundred mem­bers within the space of two years.) A bold and fearless fighter for the truth of God, he was at the same time a kind and faithful shepherd, respected and loved by his flock. The Brookses had recently come from Victoria, British Columbia, where they had labored with marked results. About forty of their parishioners had moved to Zion City so that it was deemed advisable for them to go elsewhere. While waiting for their next assignment, they lived in Elijah Hospice, occupying the room next to Miss Wing. In October they were sent to Toronto where some four years later they would again meet Miss Wing. One thing the Brookses could not help notice was the fact that often, after her long hours of work in the Lace Factory office, she had a number of visitors. What they did not know was that usually, if not always, these were souls in great need. Often when sick people found the prayers of others unavailing, they sent for her or came to her for prayer. It was understood that she had power with God, and everyone for whom she prayed at this period of her ministry was healed. The fact is that when she had prayed herself through to her own healing, God had given her, unknown to her at the time, a gift of healing. She did not, however, simply pray for a sick person when called to do so, but as God had dealt with her, so she dealt with others. When the answer to prayer was not forthcoming, she went to the bottom of each one’s condition, seeking to find what was hindering the deliverance or patiently teaching those who needed more light to enable them to appropriate the ex­ceeding great and precious promises. No matter how much time or labor was involved, once she was appealed to and undertook the case, she saw it through by the grace of God. With the increase of the city’s population and the pres­ence of more men ministers, the sick were directed to call for them. This fact, together with her heavy schedule, af­forded Miss Wing less and less opportunity to exercise her gifts or talents. Now it is a law of the kingdom that one must trade with his talents if he is to keep them and gain more. Some years later Miss Wing was to realize that at this time and for the reason suggested — not because she willfully buried her talent — there came a loss in her min­istry and that in spite of her circumstances God held her accountable for not trading with her talents to the best possible advantage. She did, however, give of her time and service unstintingly wherever it was possible and in the ways prescribed for her. As the captain or leader of a corps of well-trained per­sonal workers, she took her group to Chicago each Sunday morning throughout the winter of 1902-03 to engage in an intensive program of house-to-house visitation. To do this, Miss Wing and her co-workers had to rise about five in the morning in order, first of all, to be present at the six-thirty service, appropriately called “The Early Morn­ing Sacrifice of Praise and Prayer.” After this they left for Chicago, an hour’s trip by train. There Miss Wing and her fellow soldiers joyfully tramped the streets of Chicago, bringing the “gospel of peace” to each house and apartment in the area assigned them. Thus the entire morning was spent in the service of the King. After a cold lunch they returned to Zion City in time to be present at the main service of the week which lasted for three or four hours Sunday afternoon. Such was Miss Wing’s “day of rest” after working ten hours a day, six days of the week, at the Lace Factory, followed by numerous week­day services and much personal work. Throughout the year she continued her work as the secretary to the manager of the thriving Zion Lace Fac­tory. There her duties increased until, in addition to her regular secretarial work, she was also making out the bi­weekly payroll for the factory’s nearly five hundred employees. In spite of the ever-increasing and more-exacting demands made upon her time, strength, and service, Martha Wing faithfully maintained her personal communion with the Lord. To do this meant not only very early rising but seizing every possible opportunity she could to be alone with God. Often she would walk by some unfrequented, back way to or from work just to have a little more time with her Lord. How she longed for Him and craved His presence! How she desired to know Him better, to advance in her Christian life! Early in 1903 Miss Wing moved to a private home. As Zion City grew, it was divided into districts with a church officer in charge of the spiritual life of each district. Miss Wing was appointed one of these district leaders. As such it was her duty to visit all the homes in her section peri­odically, to minister according to the special need, and to hold a prayer meeting weekly in one of the homes for the benefit of the entire group. To coordinate these many church activities there was a weekly officers’ meeting which Miss Wing attended faithfully. One of the most energetic of the district leaders, she was always ready with some scrip­tural teaching or exhortation in the officers’ meeting for her fellow ministers who highly esteemed her spiritual life and counsel. Now, although Miss Wing unquestionably was happy in her Christian service and was zealously devoted to the building up of Zion City, yet clouds had gathered in her skies. Evidence of this is found in her poems written dur­ing 1902 and ‘03. In one of these she says: “Weary at heart, and worn and sad, Jesus, I come to Thee; Who like Thyself can make me glad, Who from sorrow can set me free?” And again she writes of friends who have “proved foes,” and the “venomous dart of pitiless tongues” which “has wounded the heart.” Such lines certainly suggest sorrow and inner conflict. They also reveal a certain sensitiveness which their author possessed by nature. This trait was especially marked if she was criticized when she meant to do well, at least, but her motives were misunderstood and misjudged. God was wanting to deliver her from such flesh. In fact, He was desiring to lead His child into death to self, utter crucifixion. Sincerely she desired the “whole will” of God to be done in her, the accomplishment of His plan. At the same time the process whereby this was being wrought out was painful to the extreme. As she contemplated God’s call and the path before her, she asked herself: Death! Does it mean just this, That my very self shall die? That all the hopes and plans of years I shall sternly mortify? Must I die? — Die to all That has made my life most dear? The hopes and plans and the cherished ties Formed through each passing year? Conscious of her own weakness and natural inability to go that way, in another poem she prays: Not the cries of my flesh, I pray Thee answer for me, But what Thou seest is best And gladly dost give to me. Yea, if my flesh rebels, Yea, if my heart cries, “No,” Heed not the selfish will, But grant a new life shall grow. Only to do Thy will, Only to live for Thee; Crucify, crucify self, Ever Thine own to be. On October 1, 1903, Miss Wing wrote “Gethsemane,” in which she described the sufferings of the Saviour, and then goes on to show how that each child of God who wants to go all the way with Him “must pass through alone his own dark Gethsemane.” It was a very real question which God was putting be­fore her at this time: Would she go all the way of the Cross, from her own Gethsemane to her Calvary, and die to herself so that, rising to newness of life, Christ would possess her fully? “In the spiritual life,” says Brother Lawrence, “not to advance is to go back.” And according to Miss Wing’s own testimony of four years later, at this time she “slipped back.” Not into the world, of course. Not in her personal devotional life, either. This she maintained to a far greater degree than the average Christian ever thinks of doing. And certainly she did not slip back in her Christian serv­ice for God. She kept busy, probably too busy, for her best spiritual interests. The ordinary Christian observer would not have seen, much less detected, any slip back in Miss Wing’s spiritual life or experience. Instead he would have seen her works, her patience, and her labors pursued without fainting. With Madame Guyon she could have said, “My infideli­ties were of a kind that would have appeared good to any other but to my God.” But God saw, and God detected that, however imperceptible and unintentional, there had come a waning not of religious practices and works but of that first love for just Himself. The inevitable result was trouble and confusion in spirit, soul, and body. Now, for the first time since her miracu­lous healing four years before, she was troubled with some physical weakness in her body which she could not get the victory over. There was a diminishing of that abound­ing vitality which she had enjoyed. This was not of so serious a nature as to keep her from abundant labors, but there was a difference. Unfortunate — even tragic — as is any slip back from the perfect will of God in the life of any child of God, yet it is still true that “God works all things together for good to them that love Him, to them that are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28 R. S. V.). The “all things” in­clude our failures. One good which came out of Miss Wing’s mistakes of these years was to show other ministers where some of the hidden dangers lie along their pilgrim pathway. Thereby the teachable would profit by her mis­takes and be saved some of the sorrow and loss which she had sustained. Six weeks after Martha Wing wrote “Gethsemane,” her brother-in-law, Nettie’s husband, died most unexpectedly (Nov. 11, 1903). Within three or four weeks Nettie and her two children, Vivien and Gordon, moved to Zion City. Martha secured a house, and for about a year they all lived together. In the fall of 1904, it became advisable for Mrs. Graham to go to Chicago for employment. Taking Gordon with her, she left Vivien with Miss Wing. In December Vivien suddenly died — a tragic, bitter blow to herself as well as to the child’s mother and brother. Shortly after Vivien’s death Miss Wing went to lodge with a Mrs. Luber who had a large house conveniently located near the Lace Factory. Miss Wing’s arduous labors in the office and in behalf of the church were certainly taking their toll on her in various ways. In addition, however, she was suffering, along with the entire city and church, from a spiritual decline in their leaders which naturally resulted in a decline in the spiritual life of all around. No longer was the quickening power of God manifest in the long services—meetings which had once been quite informal but were now increasingly heavily laden with ritualistic ceremony. People were be­coming increasingly weary and discouraged for various reasons. Now it was that Harry Robinson launched his final cam­paign to gain the object of his choice. For years, Martha had been subjected to increased pressure to get married. And so, at long last, Martha Wing said, “Yes.” One thing probably influenced Martha Wing in her de­cision. If she married this young minister, it would mean that she would be released from secular employment and be free to engage in full-time ministry once more. This she had felt to be her call, but for almost four years it had had to take a secondary place. Until she became mar­ried there was little or no likelihood that she would get into full-time Christian service. Dr. Dowie championed the cause of women ministers, but he wanted them mar­ried, virtually insisted on it. Harry was to be given an assignment at this time in Detroit, Michigan. On August 10, 1905, Martha Wing and Harry Robinson were united in marriage in the Luber home, attended by John D. Thomas and the bride’s sister, Nettie. One of the senior ministers of Zion, J. C. Excell, brother of the famous hymn-writer, E. 0. Excell, performed the marriage in the presence of family and close friends. A three-week honeymoon followed at Ben Mac Dhui, the summer estate of Dr. Dowie on White Lake, Montague, Michigan, not far from Muskegon. There on August 15, Bethany Park Hospice, “a resort for all Christians who need to get away from business and the world for a season to rejuvenate and be quiet and alone with God,” was formally opened with Mr. and Mrs. Harry Robinson among its first guests. A beautiful boat ride across Lake Michigan brought guests to their desired haven.