I HEAR a solitary bell;
It sounds not like a dirge or knell,
But with a rapid, cheerful stroke
It seems the people to invoke
To gather at the house of prayer,
Somewhere, somewhere, but where?
This is the seventh day, not the first,
As surely as the men of erst
Have handed down the reck'ning straight,
Commencing at the garden gate
Of Eden when the years began.
Explain; who can, who can?
I am resolved, this thing I'll do:
The throng I'll follow through and through
The city streets till they shall pour
E'en through the widely open door
Of the strange church for which I long—152
But where's the throng, the throng?
Well, never mind, I'll go alone,
And, guided by the deep, rich tone
Of that great bell, I'll travel on
Till I shall reach, despite the ton,
The place of worship of this folk,
I know not now what folk?
I'm here at last, for, high in air,
The great bell clangs just over there.
I'll enter through the portal wide
And view the multitude inside
Who sit there with a quiet mien;
They solemn seem, I ween.
"This building is no synagogue;
Each person here's a Gentile dog."
With lofty look and cynic air
A Jewish rabbi would declare,
When asked if Hebrews filled the pews.
His words would prove no ruse.
Those gathered now are Christian men,
For there I read, "I'll come again."
And here I see a crown and cross
Most deftly worked with silken floss
Upon the screen before the choir.
How strange! they shine like fire.
Hard by the desk a tablet stands
On which are graven God's commands,
And near it a prophetic chart,
Whereon a painter by his art
Has outlined beasts by prophets seen;
In vision seen, I ween.
I'll ask the meaning; no, I'll wait;
For, lo! a young man without state
Advancing, climbs the pulpit stair,
Then, bowing, offers silent prayer,
And thus the service is begun.
I'll listen till 'tis done.
The preacher his remarks began
By stating that it was his plan
On that occasion to outline,
In briefest form, the faith divine
Of those with whom his lot was cast.
That plan let him hold fast.
"We think," said he, "that Christ our Lord
Will come, erelong, with rich reward
For those who his return desire,
And that he'll burn with flaming fire
The nations that his advent hate,
Right here decide your fate.
"The faith of Jesus and commands
Of God we're preaching in all lands,
A message pure and heaven born,
That saints or sinners must not scorn,
If they with joy would meet the King.
Do not forget this thing.
"The man of sin whom Daniel saw
Would think to change God's holy law,
Has set aside the day of rest
In Eden sanctified and blessed,
And put the Sunday in its stead.
Avoid a sin so dread.
"The soul that sinneth, it shall die,
The prophet said, but now the lie
Is given to this statement clear
By theologians, who do not fear
To teach that all men live for aye.
Does God know best, or they?
"The dead know more than those who live,
Such is the wisdom preachers give.
The living know that they shall die;
The dead know nothing, was the cry
Of ancient Judah's wisest prince.
Are dead men wiser since?
"By some we're told that all the dead
Who die impenitent are led
By angels to a lake of fire,
Wherein, though cast, they ne'er expire,
But suffer long as God shall reign.
Tell me, are such men sane?
"No wonder that the good should feel
Their reason falter, break, or reel,
When vainly trying to conceive
How God the merciful could leave
The masses to a fate so sad.
He will not; so be glad.
"'Tis true that wicked men are doomed
By fire from God to be consumed;
But, if consumed, naught will remain
But ashes that can feel no pain.
Thus we unending woe disprove.
Who can these stakes remove?
"The saints of God, of angels peers,
With Christ will spend a thousand years
In heaven, then to the earth return
To see this planet burn and burn,
Till every trace of sin is gone.
O happy day, soon dawn!
"From out the ashes of this earth
Shall spring a planet which at birth
In gorgeous beauty will excel
The orb on which we all now dwell,
E'en as the sun outshines a star,
Tell me, who can, how far.
"The golden city of our God,
Whose shining streets have long been trod
By holy angels, shall come down
To be the glory and the crown,
The grand metropolis of earth.
Hail thou of heavenly birth!"
"Upon the desert waste will bloom
The rose and lily, and perfume
Of fruits and flowers load the air,
As when in Eden the first pair
Surveyed the garden of the Lord.
Such is the saints' reward.
"Nor torrid zone, nor frozen pole,
Shall exercise a fierce control
On any portion of this sphere,
But balmy breezes all the year
Will prove the clime salubrious.
In Eden it was thus.
"On hilltop and in shady dell
The lambkin and the wolf will dwell
In safety, while there, side by side,
The leopard and the kid will bide
Without the slightest fear of harm.
O world without alarm!
"The soft-eyed calf and lion's whelp
Together feed, and, without help,
A little child shall lead the twain,
Or watch their gambols on the plain,
As children watch their household pets.
Such joy like joy begets.
"In all the mountain of the Lord
There'll be no need to watch or ward.
Nor serpent's fang, nor angry bear,
Nor aught will harm the dwellers there,
Who safely dwell within the wood.
'Tis thus where all are good.
"Upon new moons and Sabbath days
They'll come with hymns of lofty praise
To worship God on Zion's hill,
While every heart with joy will thrill,
Too great by far to be expressed.
Oh, may we share that rest!"
In this way did the preacher close
His sermon, when I quickly rose
And left the church, to ponder well
The things I'd heard, for, must I tell?—
They seemed both beautiful and just.
I'll go again, I must.
Battle Creek, Mich.
Prayer and Divine Strength
PRAY much! Each day allow thyself a season
For close companionship with minds above.
Put by thy will, thy pride, thy stubborn reason;
Keep nothing but humility and love.
As one is charged with magnets, so thy soul
Shall feel divine electric currents roll
Thro' all its chambers, till it glows with faith
That conquers death.
--Selected.
Failures Preparing for Success
SOMETIMES the efforts and plans of good men are failures. But it is only to test them, and prepare the way for larger success.
The Personal Touch in Service
SUCCESSFUL work for others requires the personal contact of heart with heart and life with life.
WHY TEMPTED.
By Charles H. Spurgeon
Persecution and temptation are a sort of sieve, to sift the church of God. As it is, we have enough hypocrites among us, and if the way to heaven were strewn all along with loaves and fishes, we should have the devil himself going on pilgrimage. There must be these fiery persecutions, that the drossy hypocrites may be purged out. I warrant you there were not many hypocrites in the catacombs of Rome when to be a Christian involved almost certain death. They crept into their assemblies at the dead of night, and there gathered to sing hymns to the name of Jesus, and few were the traitors' tongues that joined in the singing.
When in our own country any man who had a Bible must die for it, and therefore men hid their Bibles behind the wainscot or under the floor boards, few were very eager for Bible reading. The mocking, the jesting, the jeering which goes on in the world is the sieve constantly moving to shake off the chaff and let the good wheat remain. If we could stop that winnowing fan, we should hardly wish to do so. I am sure if I could give some of you new converts a pass from here to heaven, so that nobody would ever laugh at you, and you would never suffer anything for Christ, I would not do it.
I feel I should be doing you a serious injury if I could secure you against every trial. Think of a soldier when he enlists. Suppose he should say to the sergeant, "Sergeant, will you give me a guarantee that I shall never fight?" I think the officer would reply, "You had better not enlist." Even so I say to you, We cannot guarantee you that you shall not be tempted, and if you want such a guarantee as that, you are not the kind of man we want; you are not the sort of man that is ever likely to win the crown unfading.
Trial and temptation discover the reality of conversion. Here is a man ridiculed for his religion and for his sobriety. He will not touch a drop of the drink which formerly cast him down to his destruction, and therefore his fellow-workmen laugh at him. All sorts of epithets are hurled at him while he is at work. He goes to a place of worship on Sunday, and for this he must be jeered at to the last degree. Who is this man that bears this so patiently?—Why, the very man who, twelve months ago, could drink as much as any of them, and used to jeer at others; the very man who, for twenty years before, never entered the house of God.
Now the fact that he can stand against temptation is one of the very best evidences that he is born again, and made a new creature in Christ Jesus; and those who see such a change confess that this is the finger of God. What else could have changed him so completely as to make him stand against the very thing which he himself took part in so short a time ago? We may thank God for the temptation, since it helps to evidence the reality of the conversion.—C. H. Spurgeon.
A TALE OF A DUTCH HERO.
In the days when Charles IX. was king of France, when Philip II. reigned over Spain, and our land [England] was governed by good Queen Bess, the people of Holland and the Netherlands were called upon to endure the most fiery persecution the world ever witnessed.
For many generations the Dutch had enjoyed more liberty than was usual at that stage of the world's history. Their cities possessed charters and privileges of which they were justly proud, and to which they owed their prosperity. As a natural consequence education advanced, and the people were accustomed to freedom of thought and argument.
In this good soil the seed of the Reformation took deep root. Nowhere did the doctrines of Luther spread so rapidly, nor bring forth so rich a harvest.
Then came persecution. The cruel and bigoted king of Spain, believing himself to be ordained of God to sweep heresy from the face of the earth, let loose upon the smiling provinces all the terrors of the Spanish Inquisition.
Already they had suffered much for the cause of religion. During the reign of Charles V. many thousands laid down their lives for the truth, but Philip II. exceeded his father both in cruelty and tenacity of purpose. Henceforth no man's life was safe. Liberty was crushed and a dark cloud of oppression settled over the land. Men and women were tortured, drowned, strangled, burnt alive, or buried alive, for no other crime than reading the Bible, praying with their children, and teaching them to look to Jesus as their only Saviour.
It would shock you too much were I to tell you a tithe of what these poor Christians endured at the hands of their fellow Christians. Saddest of all human delusions when religion is used as a mask for tyranny! Happy are we who have the privilege of serving God according to the dictates of reason and conscience.
In Holland cruelty and injustice produced their natural result; the people rose up against their oppressors, and an army was sent by Philip to reduce them to obedience. Thus the misery of war added to the terrors of the Inquisition.
The Dutch was a commercial rather than a warlike people. Stern necessity obliged them to fight for their homes and for their wives and little ones; but at first the well-disciplined Spanish troops had them at a terrible disadvantage.
In one way, however, they were superior to their foes. They were as much at home on water as on land; and in winter they could skim about upon the frozen seas and lakes, to the great confusion of their enemies. When the battle was fought upon water or upon ice, it was the Dutchman's turn to win.
But the Spaniards were persevering as well as brave. They soon bought skates and learned to use them, though not so skillfully as those who had been accustomed to them from childhood.
Dirk Willemzoon was one of those who suffered for conscience' sake. Although he was innocent of any offense beyond the reading of his Bible and attending religious meetings, he was taken prisoner, tried, and condemned to death.
Dirk felt it hard to submit to this cruel injustice. He was young, and life was sweet—even life such as it then was in Holland. He set his wits to work out a plan of escape. His plan succeeded. Once more he was free—free, but not safe. He must still hide from his enemies. In this, alas! he was not so fortunate; his retreat was discovered by a Spanish soldier, and he was pursued across the open country. At no great distance was a lake, now a broad sheet of frozen water. Here was a chance for Dirk. He knew that upon ice he could soon outstrip his pursuer.
He was right. The Spaniard was a bold runner, but upon that slippery surface he was no match for the young Dutchman. Moreover, at this season the lake was not to be traversed without danger. Winter was nearly over; already there had been mild spring days, and the ice was unsafe. It trembled and shook beneath the flying footsteps of the hunter and his prey.
Dirk was no stranger to the lake. He knew what parts to avoid. The soldier lacked this useful bit of knowledge. Suddenly there was a loud crack, a cry, a splash. The fugitive turned to look, and, behold! his enemy was gone. A large hole in the ice, surrounded by many a deep crack—that was all that was now visible. But as he looked, the head of the drowning man reappeared above the water. He stretched out his hands and grasped the edge of the ice, which bent beneath his weight. Dirk saw that he could not get out unaided. He was caught as securely as any rat in a trap. In a few minutes he must sink.
Dirk was safe now. Intense gratitude for his escape filled his heart to overflowing. "The Lord hath delivered me," he cried; "it is not my work. Truly God hath fought for me; he hath overthrown my enemy like the Egyptians in the Red Sea."
But this thought was rapidly succeeded by another: "I say unto you, Love your enemies; do good to them that despitefully use you and persecute you." Would he not be disobeying his Saviour's command if he left this man to perish? It was a terrible moment for poor Dirk. He covered his face and fell upon his knees. A fierce battle raged within his soul, the powers of good and evil striving for mastery. God gives us all grace to fight such battles on our knees.
It was soon over. The Spaniard was presently amazed to see the young Dutchman returning across the ice, but the sight brought him no comfort. "He comes to slay me with his dagger," thought he. "Well, 'tis more a soldier's death than drowning like a kitten in a tub." So he resigned himself to his fate with the stoicism of one who has faced death too often to fear it. To his astonishment, however, the young man showed no desire to kill him, but seemed, on the contrary, anxious to save him. He advanced cautiously along the quivering ice, then lay down, and, creeping toward the hole, stretched forth his hands and drew the soldier out of the water.
There is but one way in which such a story should end. If the Spaniard had no reward to offer, he must at least grant freedom to the man who had risked his life to save him. But, alas! this tale has a far darker sequel. Whatever his feelings may have been while in the ice hole, the soldier was no sooner safe on dry land than the instinct of the bird of prey revived. The man was in his power yet—the man he had followed through so many dangers. Should he let him go, and so lose the reward of his valor?—No! The young Dutchman was his lawful captive, and back to prison he must go.
Motley, from whose pages we have drawn this sketch, tells us that the Spaniard was subsequently stricken by remorse and would have released his prisoner, but was prevented by the burgomaster of Aspern, who bade him remember first his duty to his king.
We are not disposed to give the soldier much credit for this tardy repentance. It was never strong enough to induce him to open his door to his captive.
Dirk's noble action met with no reward in this world. After languishing in prison for some weeks, he was led out into the market-place, tied to a stake, and burned to death. Even then we may be sure that brave Dirk Willemzoon never for a moment regretted his generous self-sacrifice. He had followed his Master, for, like him, he had laid down his life for his enemy; and to him, also, was granted grace to say with that dying Master, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."—The Quiver.
SOME GIRLS.
By Mary Louise Palmer
BY MARY LOUISE PALMER.
SOME girls are rapidly becoming veritable scolds. I have a young friend, near neighbor, that I seldom visit without being reminded of Shakespeare's play.
My dear girls, I do not think it necessary or desirable to become a scold or shrew, to impress one's friends as such. Do you?
The young friend referred to is twenty years of age. The habit of fault-finding, nagging, and general bickering is growing so fixed that I fear it will cling. She is energetic and bright, tidy in dress, attractive in appearance. Alas that she is what she is!
I have been present when she would say, "Father, wipe your feet on that mat before you step an inch into the sitting room. Three times to-day have I swept sand from the carpet, all because you were too lazy to wipe your feet. Hear what I say, don't you?" And I have seen the patient father sigh and cast reproving glances at his eldest daughter. I suppose he disliked to rebuke her in the154presence of company, but to my mind she richly deserved it.
When the mother has advised in matters where experience brings wisdom, I have heard the daughter reply, with a frown between her eyes, and toss of the head, "I shall do as I please, and you will find it out, too," in harsh, emphatic tones.
The younger brothers and sisters feel the untoward home influence and express themselves accordingly. Their childish criticisms are tempered with charity, as is often childish wont. They say: "Oh, sister's cross! She's always cross, but she mends our clothes nice. Mamma says we mustn't mind. Sister's good." Father and mother are mortified, chagrined, heart-hurt many times.
Do not draw from this description that she is wholly vain and giddy. Such is not the case. Oh, that she would struggle more valiantly with her besetting sin, if such it be, until she conquers! Vigilance, unceasing watchfulness, and prayer will wrestle mightily with besetting sins. Oh, that such as I have described would put on their beautiful garments! What an overturn in many homes there would be!
And it is the little foxes, little sins, that need most careful watching. A fretful word so easily slips from the tongue. Repeated again, it becomes second nature. Fault-findings increase, naggings become fixed habits, and, O my girls, you are doomed—scolds, shrews! Avoid, turn away, overcome.—Christian at Work.
TIRED MOTHERS.
By May Riley Smith
A LITTLE elbow rests upon your knee,
Your tired knee, that has so much to bear;
A child's dear eyes are looking lovingly
From underneath a thatch of shining hair.
Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch
Of warm, moist fingers, folding yours so tight,
You do not prize this blessing overmuch—
You almost are too tired to pray to-night.
But it is blessedness! A year ago
I did not see it as I do to-day;
We are so dull and thankless, and too slow
To catch the sunshine as it slips away.
And now it seems surpassing strange to me
That while I wore the badge of motherhood
I did not kiss more oft and tenderly
The little child that brought me only good.
And if some night, when you sit down to rest,
You miss this elbow from your tired knee,
This restless, curling head from off your breast,
This lisping tongue that chatters constantly,
If from your own this dimpled hand has slipped
And ne'er will nestle in your palm again,
If the white feet into the grave have tripped,
I could not blame you for your heartache then.
I wonder so that mothers ever fret
At little children clinging to their gown,
Or that the footsteps, when the days are wet,
Are ever black enough to make them frown.
If I could find a little moldy boot,
Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor,
If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot,
And hear its music in my home once more,
If I could mend a broken cart to-day,
To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky,
There is no woman in God's world could say
She was more blissfully content than I.
But, ah! the dainty pillow next my own
Is never rumpled by a shining head;
My singing birdling from its nest has flown—
The little one I used to kiss is dead.
—May Riley Smith.
KISSING.
ATTENTION was called lately to the danger that may lurk in a kiss, as shown by the illness that followed "kissing the bride." A month ago the wedding took place, and the following item from an exchange gives the sequel:—
JAMESTOWN, N. Y., September 13.
Ransom Bratt, aged thirty-five years, died of diphtheria at his home in Kiantone, N. Y., yesterday. The Bratt family, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Bratt and their nine-year-old daughter, attended a wedding in the town of Kiantone less than a month ago. The bride had a sore throat at the time, which developed into diphtheria, and many cases of the disease broke out among those who attended the wedding and kissed the bride. The Bratt girl died two weeks ago. Immediately afterward Mrs. Bratt died, and yesterday Mr. Bratt died. The others who were attacked by the disease recovered.
That there are unaccountable outbreaks of this disease no experienced person will deny, but no up-to-the-time physician can be persuaded that an attack comes on de novo, any more than he will believe that a stalk of corn that he finds in his garden came up without a kernel being dropped in the soil. As Dr. Irving A. Watson, the accomplished secretary of the New Hampshire Board of Health, says:—
When the pollen of the pine forests of Michigan and the Northwest is carried in the air and showered down in New Hampshire, who shall say that the germ of some disease which is many times smaller than the spore of the pine may not in a warm and humid atmosphere be carried to greater distances and there produce disease? Who can say that epidemics, which are sometimes so sudden and widespread as to convince many that they are dependent on some "occult constitution" of the air, are not in a manner sown broadcast? Facts may be a danger than flights of fancy and yet follow a fixed and definite law.
If the indiscriminate and almost universal practice of kissing could be restricted to those cases in which it is an expression of sincere affection, the world would be the gainer in more ways than one.
The recent case of diphtheria conveyed by "kissing the bride" is matched by another instance of infection by kissing, that comes from Ohio:—
Scarlet fever contracted by a kiss is the latest freak in infectious diseases. A report of this peculiar case is given in a letter received recently by Secretary Probst, of the State Board of Health, from Mifflin, Ashland County, O. The letter states that a lady recently came to the village from Mansfield, O., accompanied by a child suffering from a slight attack of scarlet fever. They called on a friend, and the scarlet fever patient was permitted to kiss three children in the family where the visit was made. Within a week the three children were stricken with the disease, and their father and mother have since fallen victims to the contagion.
Miller, the Berlin savant, was the first scientist to call attention to the danger from this source, and he sets forth his reasons in a paper in the Journal of Laryngology upon "The Human Mouth as a Focus of Infection."
He enumerates, as diseases traced to the oral bacteria, dental caries, and its consequences, pneumonia fever, tonsillitis, angina ludovici, pneumococcus, abscesses, actinomycosis, noma, thrush, and other oral infections, diphtheria, tuberculosis, and the human form of stomatitis epidemica, or foot or mouth disease. He gives a list of oral bacteria that have been cultivated, numbering twenty-two varieties, besides numerous other pathogenic microorganisms that have been found in the mouth, but have not been as yet cultivated in artificial media.—The Independent.
MEDICAL MISSIONARY WORK IN CHINA.
By C. M. Snow
BY C. M. SNOW.
Not long ago a paper fell into my hands giving an account of woman's everyday life in China. It was written by a lady—a real heaven-spirited missionary—who had spent many years in this busy, crowded, needy land; and from beginning to end it seemed one almost despairing cry of, "How can we get to the people?"
There were three principal obstacles to gaining an audience among these benighted sufferers of her own sex,—tyranny of opinion, the pinch of poverty, and the multiplication155of manual labor. The first antagonizes female education. Why should woman learn? Will it bring her more to eat, or to wear, increase her dowry, or give her a rich mother-in-law? To the Chinese the question is so evidently in the negative that it needs no argument, and the poor girl's prospect for an education is slim indeed.
There is scarce a day when the pinch of poverty does not leave its sting upon the ordinary household in China; and therefore the child is mustered in at an early age to help fight the battle of life. One of their proverbs reads, "Even a child may not eat ten idle years of food." So the missionaries find it hard to get even the children to teach, and the wife and mother answers your question oftentimes without raising the head, lest night should come and find her stint undone.
The multiplication of manual labor, as seen in China, is very poorly appreciated by those who are so familiar with the ingenious mechanical conveniences of more enlightened lands. The American housewife, if she essays to make her husband a coat, finds the material all ready manufactured; and she has but to cut it according to pattern, and run it through her sewing machine, and it is ready for him to wear. The Chinese woman treads the tiresome journey of twelve days from the beginning to the completion of even a simpler garment for her "outside," as the head of the Chinese household is called. The American is quite likely to say, "How marvelously slow!" But should the American woman attempt to keep pace with her in the tiresome race from start to finish, she would find herself considerably outdistanced by her less favored sister; as the Chinese woman has to take the material from the pod in which it grows, and first make the cloth before she can cut and fit. All her work is characterized by this same inconvenience. With all the clothing and even the shoes to make for her family, she finds but little time to listen and none to study.
There is another hindrance to missionary enterprises. It is the social customs of the people. The mother cannot spare the time for the daughter to learn to read. "The father does not see its use." He is persuaded with difficulty; the older brother objects to her "running after foreigners." He is difficult to entreat. The paternal grandfather and grandmother are nearly certain to interfere, and must not be offended. Nor is this all, for the uncles and aunts must also be heard in the matter; and happy indeed might the child consider itself if it succeeded in running this intricate gauntlet without receiving some blow fatal to its prospects.
Thus it seems that all these things are banded together for the purpose of shutting out the light of the gospel of Christ. But that light is bound to shine, even in China; and if one way is barred up, another will be opened. The daughters cannot be spared from home, the mother has no time to devote to learning—barely time to do the work which must be done from day to day; and the learning of, or even listening to, something so foreign to their previous mode of life seems but another burden on their already overcrowded hands.
The missionary must come to them as a burden lifter in order to do most successful work; and while no true missionary would go into the field with any other object in view, yet the people cannot see at first approach how their burdens can be lightened by something that takes up the time they should give to work.
A few incidents from the work of Miss Dr. Swinney (Seventh-day Baptist Medical Missionary at Shanghai) among the Chinese, seem to throw much light upon this difficult question. She says: "We find it is the medical missionary work that opens the door in China. The people are willing and anxious to hear our words, as soon as they realize we have been the means of healing their bodies. They are glad then to have us come to them and talk with them."
This self-sacrificing woman has labored there for ten years in this line of work, visiting homes in both city and country, dispensing medicines, and working in the hospitals.
One evening as she was sitting in her home after a hard day's work, a courier from the highest official in the arsenal rushed up, asking her to come at once to his master's house. She went, and found the wife of the official dangerously ill; but upon her entering the chamber, the sufferer was greatly alarmed. She had never seen a foreigner before, and her fright was so great that the missionary considered it unsafe to remain, both on the sufferer's account and on her own; for if she died, the people would say the foreign doctor had killed her. But the official bowed down, and struck his head on the floor, begging her not to leave. The lady supposed the foreigners carried knives, and this was the cause of her alarm. Dr. Swinney finally gained her confidence, and treated her several hours, leaving her about midnight in a much improved condition. She recovered, and has been a firm friend of Dr. Swinney's ever since.
This incident spread rapidly, and she was soon called to the homes of many of the highest officials, where she lost no opportunity of teaching the people the gospel of Christ.
In her work she frequently visited the villages about Shanghai, and concerning one of her visits to Tsa-tsoo, a walled city, she says:—
"In one of my visits to this city, caring for the sick, and dispensing medicine, the people turned out in such large numbers to receive medical attention that when it was time to leave the place, I found the streets so filled with people that it was impossible to pass. All were eager to get to me, and all were striving for the first place. I worked as fast and as faithfully as I could, but what could one do among such an overwhelming number of sick? At four o'clock I told my companion we must leave, as there was danger of trouble among the people, each one desiring to be treated and none willing to be left out. The people in their eagerness were really driving me out of the place. The crowds surging in the street made it impossible for us to cross the bridge, so we had to engage a boat in order to cross the river.
"When they saw that we were leaving them, they became nearly frantic. They would hold out their hands to me, imploring aid, and crying, 'You saw me before, why will you not see me now?' Often in the night will that picture come to me of the imploring multitudes, begging, entreating me for that help which their own numbers made it impossible for me to give them."
Dr. Swinney tells of many other incidents equally interesting. In one of her medical missionary tours a young lady whom she had benefited, and to whom she had spoken the good news of salvation, refused to leave her until she had committed to memory some of the passages which carried the glad tidings. In a few minutes she had committed nearly a page, showing how great was her eagerness to learn. At another time a middle-aged, matronly lady came and stood by the door where she was treating the sick, and watched the process for several hours. At noon she went to the assistant, begging her to induce Dr. Swinney to visit another place, and assuring her that she would have plenty of work among the sick and suffering, and an opportunity to talk with them.
Thus the medical work proved an effective door-opener for future work, and won the hearts of the people. This burden-lifting missionary was privileged to enter the homes of the highest and the lowest, ministering to the spiritual as well as to the physical needs of the people. The Master healed all who came to him, and then taught them the way of salvation. The servant must follow in his footsteps, teach as he taught, minister as he ministered, and heal by the same power that he invoked, always bathing the lips of the sufferer at the well of salvation. The work of the true medical missionary is nearer akin to the work of Christ than that performed for fallen man in any other way. Let none think the time wasted that is spent in a preparation for this kind of work. The world should be filled with just such missionaries, and may God's spirit attend all who are fitting themselves to follow the Master in this work for suffering humanity.
"THE NIGHT COMETH."
By Emma C. Dowd
BY EMMA C. DOWD.
An angel passed through a busy street;
His step was swift, and his smile was sweet,
And he sped in the path of the rising sun,
Saying softly, "The day is begun,
'The night cometh.'"
He met a child, who laughed and ran,
Chasing the butterflies with her fan,
A circlet of lilies, white and fair,
Crowning her wavy yellow hair;
And, stooping, he asked, in a gentle tone,
"Do you love the Master, my little one?"
She raised her beautiful, sunlit head,—
"I am one of his little lambs," she said;
"Then do," said the angel, "as he commands;
Your work is ready, it waits your hands."
The child made answer, "I'll not forget;
I shall do my work ere the sun has set;
But 'tis going to be such a long, long day!
It is morning now, and I want to play."
The angel watched her in sad surprise,
As she flitted away with the butterflies;
And he sped in the path of the rising sun,
Whispering soft, "Will the work be done?
'The night cometh.'"
An hour flew by, and the child lay dead,
A stain on the beautiful sunlit head,
A stain which the lilies could not hide,
Though they spread their waxen petals wide;
And the weepers heard, in a voice divine,
Like the solemn moan of a wind-stirred pine,
"The night cometh."
The angel passed through the busy street,
And met a man with hurrying feet.
"Stay," he cried. "Are you one of those
Who love the Master and hate his foes?"
"Oh, yes!" he replied. "My name is enrolled
In the books of the church. I am safe in the fold."
"Then do," said the angel, "as he commands;
Your work is ready, it waits your hands."
"Good sir," said the man, "I shall do my work
All in good season, I'm never a shirk.
Just now I am busy, as you must see,
But sometime—yes, sometime—I hope to be free
To work for the Master. I'm still in my prime,
With life before me,—there's plenty of time."
The angel watched him speeding along,
With a troubled brow, through the jostling throng;
And he followed the path of the setting sun,
Whispering soft, "Will the work be done?
'The night cometh.'"
The years rolled on. Through a city street
A man walked slowly, with tottering feet;
His form was bent and his face was old,
And his heart was as hard as his silver and gold;
But he seemed to hear, like a mournful rhyme,
"Life is before me, there's plenty of time."
And those who were nearest him heard him say:
"It is growing dark,—I have lost the day.
'The night cometh.'"
—S. S. Times.
Clean Living for Body and Soul
By Family Doctor
BREATHE clear air from morning to night, and from night to morning again, and you will be rewarded with a lightness of spirit that the chemist is powerless to bestow. Eat clean food, food that is not greasy, nor spicy, nor hard of digestion, and you will be nourished and made strong by the only genuine blood purifier in the market. Bathe in clean water every day, and note the elevating and tranquilizing effect it has on the mind. Think clean thoughts, and the body as well as the soul will seem to be mate-fellow with the angels. —Family Doctor.
The Blessing of Hospitality
Christian hospitality is a great blessing, and full of rich rewards.
A BOY WHO IS SUCCEEDING.
EVERY boy wishes to succeed, but few men are able to look back upon a successful life. Why some boys are promoted more rapidly than some others is suggested by this story, the writer of which is unknown to us.
"A new boy came into our office to-day," said a wholesale grocery merchant to his wife at the supper table. "He was hired by the firm at the request of the senior member, who thought the boy gave promise of good things. But I feel sure that boy will be out of the office in less than a week."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because the first thing he wanted to know was just exactly how much he was expected to do."
"Perhaps you will change your mind about him."
"Perhaps I shall," replied the merchant, "but I don't think so."
Three days later the business man said to his wife: "About that boy you remember I mentioned three or four days ago. Well, he is the best boy that ever entered the store."
"How did you find that out?"
"In the easiest way in the world. The first morning after the boy began work he performed very faithfully and systematically the exact duties assigned, which he had been so careful to have explained to him. When he had finished, he came to me and said: 'Mr. H., I have finished all that work. Now what can I do?'"
"I was greatly surprised, but I gave him a little job of work and forgot all about him, until he came into my room with the question, 'What next?' That settled it for me. He was the first boy that ever entered our office who was willing and volunteered to do more than was assigned him. I predict a successful career for that boy as a business man."—Harper's Young People.
Indians Seek a Missionary
A MISSIONARY in Georgetown, Demerara, was visited lately by about twenty Indians, with a converted Portuguese at their head. They had traveled over 1,000 miles, and had been seven weeks on the way. They had come to ask for a teacher, promising him a congregation of 1,000 persons every Sunday.