Earlier text: THE WORLDLY SANCTUARYOPPORTUNITY.
By Sydney Dayre
Miss Abigail Meeker walked up the graveled path to the porch with the western exposure, on which was seated her friend, Mrs. Brewster. "How d'ye do?" she called, as she drew near. "I don't wonder you like to be outdoors. I thought there was a real chill in the house, which is no more'n's to be looked for late in September. But when you get out in this meller sunshine—my!" She panted as she seated herself, giving a pleased glance about her. "Well, I've said it time and again, and I say it yet, that if there's one place that seems to get more o' the real fall tints than another, it's them maples o' your'n. Look a' them reds and purples. Solomon in all his glory, sure enough." "Abigail," said her friend, and the tone brought Miss Abigail's eyes at once to her face, to meet a look which caused a sudden cloud to fall on her own. "What's the matter, Jane?" "Has there been anything heard from Susan Pettit?" "Not as I know of. I didn't know anybody expected to hear from her." "No, that's it." Mrs. Brewster set her lips and shook her head. "What is a-troublin' you, Jane?" "Do you know when she was expected home?" "Why, no. I don't know as anybody knew. Did they?" "I s'pose not. That's it." "What on earth's the matter, Jane? You fairly make me creep, lookin' so woe-begone. What is it? Anything wrong about Susan Pettit? I didn't know you knew her well enough to take it hard if there was." "Yes, there 'tis again—I didn't," said Mrs. Brewster, in a deeply pained voice. "Abigail, wasn't her initials S. J.?" "Like enough they was. Let me see—yes—I remember wonderin' what the J. stood for when she put down her name for a quarter on the subscription paper to send Jerry Day to the hospital. Susan Pettit never give much, but what she did give she always give willin'. But what—" "Have you seen this?" Mrs. Brewster held up a copy of the weekly edition of a newspaper in the nearest large city. "An awful railroad accident. One car jumped right into another and crushed people's lives out. A dozen killed and plenty more wounded. Now listen: 'Killed, S. J. Pettit.'" The two neighbors gazed into each other's eyes. "Couldn't it be a mistake?" "It ain't a common name. 'Twas a train—see—" Mrs. Brewster leaned over with the paper, and pointed to some lines in the short chapter of the tragedy, "comin' this way. That was why I wanted to know if you knew when she was a-comin'. But—" Mrs. Brewster's voice broke in a sob—"nobody knew." "You don't mean it," said Miss Abigail, taking up the paper with a little air of desperation. "I can't believe it. Dead! I can't seem to sense it. Such a chipper little creature she was, in spite of her lameness, always had a pleasant word and a smile for folks, and all the children loved her. Well," with a tremble in her voice, "if I had it to do over again, I'm free to confess I'd do different by Susan Pettit." With another huge sob Mrs. Brewster covered her face with her hands and cried. "All the time that woman's lived here amongst us," she presently began, "I've had it on my mind that when I got round to it, I'd try to make things a little easier and pleasanter for her. How long is it since she come?" "Six or seven year, I guess." "Yes. And there was some of us that felt to lay it up again' her that she was niece to old Jacob Hart, that was always suspected of that mortgage fraud. And when she come there to take care of him when he was dying, and then lived on in that little mite of a house he'd left her, why—if I haven't done a neighbor's part by her, which I haven't—may the Lord forgive me." "You needn't talk," said Miss Abigail. "Many and many's the time I've went by there and see her settin' alone lookin' out in such a kind of a pitiful way—like she was longin' for someone to come in and be a little sociable with her. I thought I hadn't time, and I hadn't much, but I might 'a' made time and been none the worse for it. Oh, me, it was an opportunity, and now it's gone from me! She was a stranger, and I didn't take her in." Left to herself an hour later, Mrs. Brewster sat face to face with her lost opportunity, and with every thought the sting of self-reproach grew deeper. "She was so poor, and I didn't hold out a hand to her. I might have stopped for her as I drove by to church, when I knew she was often kept to home by her lameness. I meant to send her apples and things—and I didn't. I thought sometimes of sending her my religious paper when I'd done reading it—and I let the time slip." There was a shiver of excitement as Miss Abigail Meeker passed through the village on her way home, telling her startling news. Does any life go out among us—poor, careless procrastinators that we are—without leaving behind its train of bitter thought of what we might have done and did not do, of the words which might have been spoken to ears now closed, of acts which might have brought comfort and cheer? May we be pitied in our aching for a sound from dumb lips in acknowledgment of blessing which should have been bestowed—in our craving for time, time, time in which to do the thousand and one things which never now can be done. More than one turned with dimming eyes towards the window from which the patient face had looked out. "I meant to carry some o' them flower seeds to her. She'd 'a' liked 'em—she set such store by flowers." "I could 'a' stopped and plowed up her bit of a garden just as well as not." "Why didn't I invite her to my quiltin'?" "I might—" "I could have—" "I meant to—" "I wish I had—" "Why didn't I—?" Miss Susan Pettit was brought home to the little house for the funeral, crushed and broken—the plain, sealed coffin borne reverently among those to whom the awful thing came as the excitement of a lifetime. Hysterical sobs and wailing were heard as flowers were piled over the still form. "I didn't bring one of 'em," said Mrs. Brewster, pointing to them in half-indignant agitation. "No, I didn't. I've read a piece of poetry about layin' flowers on folkses' graves—and"—Mrs. Brewster choked—"never layin' deeds of loving-kindness onto their lives. And—have you read the piece about her in the paper, all about the sweetness and loveliness? Queer, hain't it?" with a gasping laugh, "that nobody never seemed to find it out till— No, you don't catch me carryin' flowers to her grave. They might 'a' comforted her livin'." The house was shut and locked after the funeral, its closed blinds bearing a mournful look to those who passed. It was said that it had fallen to a distant connection of Miss Susan, but no one knew certainly. Three weeks later an unpretentious, shabby-neat little figure left the afternoon train and walked with limping steps up the street of the small village, followed by wide-staring, wondering eyes. "That ain't Susan Pettit!" "Well, if she wa'n't dead I'd say 'twas." "I don't care, it's her, anyways." Miss Susan went quietly up to the door of the little house, still dreary with its closed windows, took the key from her pocket, and opened it. "It was all a mistake," she said, her face beaming in appreciation of the cordiality with which the amazed neighbors crowded about her. "I wasn't hurt a mite, but they got names mixed up. And I didn't try to set things right, because, you see, there wasn't anybody it would make any difference to, except the folks belongin' to the poor soul that was dead. And they don't know yet who it was in that— Ah, me!" Miss Susan shuddered at the dreadful memory. "O Susan, it does—it did make a difference!" cried Abigail Meeker, wiping her eyes. "Where have you been all this time, as it seems pretty sure you ain't been in heaven." "I've been with a lady that got hurt. I took care of her that night"—Miss Susan closed her eyes with another nervous shudder—"and the next day, when she come to, nothing would do but I must go with her. She's getting well now, so I come home."—N. Y. Observer. "He who has seen only the daylight knows nothing of that heaven of stars which all night long hang overhead their lamps of gold." MY MENDING BASKET.
By Bessie Chandler
It is made of the stoutest of willow;
It is deep and capacious and wide;
Yet the gulf stream that flows through its borders
Seems always to stand at flood tide, And the garments lie heaped on each other.
I look at them often, and sigh,
Shall I ever be able to grapple
With a pile that has grown two feet high? There's a top layer, always, of stockings;
These arrive and depart every day;
And the things that are playing "button, button,"
Also leave without any delay. But, ah, underneath there are strata
Buried deep as the earth's eocene,
Things put there the first of the autumn,
Still there when the trees are grown green! There are things to be ripped and made over;
There are things that gave out in their prime;
There are intricate tasks, all awaiting
One magical hour of "spare time." Will it come? Shall I ever possess it?
I start with fresh hope every day.
Like a will-o'-the-wisp it allures me,
Like a will-o'-the-wisp fades away. For the basket has never been empty,
During all of its burdened career,
But once, for a few fleeting moments,
When the baby upset it last year.
—Bessie Chandler. FIRST PRINTING IN THE SOCIETY ISLANDS.
By E. C. Chapman
IT was in the year 1797 that the first missionaries came to these islands, and landed in Matavai Bay, near where our new church building now stands. The following twenty years of labor were full of perils and heartaches, while most of the natives continued in war and heathenism. Those dark chains of idolatry with which Satan had bound his prey did not at once let go their captive, and time after time the dragon spirit strove to hold its own by destroying all traces of Christianity from the islands. Even as late as 1815 a desperate attempt was made by the heathen party to murder all the Christians on Tahiti. Early in 1817 Mr. Ellis arrived at Papetaoi, Moorea, from England, with a small printing outfit, which was located soon after at the native settlement of Afareaitu, Moorea. This island of Moorea is one-eighth the size of Tahiti, and lies only a few miles off the western end of its larger companion. At this early date the missionaries had their principal station on Moorea, as the natives of that isle were more kindly disposed toward Christianity than were the Tahitians. The chief ruler of both islands at that time was Pomare, who was very friendly towards the missionaries, and assisted them in building suitable houses and transporting and locating their printing plant. This chief, as well as his people, looked with great wonder upon the introduction of the printing machine, and June 30, 1817, when all was ready to print the first sheet, Pomare visited the printing office, and, after closing the door and darkening the windows, so as to avoid being laughed at in case he made a mistake, he pulled the lever which printed the first sheet, while his chiefs looked on in wonder. As sheets were multiplied, the news spread from village to village, and copies were passed from hand to hand and from isle to isle. Natives came in canoes from all quarters, anxious to obtain a copy of this strange production. Their first work was a spelling book, after which a compilation of Scripture texts were printed. The publication of the Gospel of Luke was next undertaken, and by patient labor 3,000 copies of that important book were soon issued from the press. As leather was not to be obtained on the island, the work of binding the edition of Luke also necessitated the procuring of the skins and tanning the leather, and as the case was an urgent one, and animals were scarce, goats, dogs, and cats all had to contribute their skins, and the office was for a time turned into a tannery. Though the press was an old-time hand press, and many were the inconveniences in those days, when mails were years apart, yet in that little office of the English missionaries were produced pages of the word of God which helped many a heathen out of idolatry and wretchedness. In our recent visit to Moorea, for the purpose of scattering religious literature, we landed at this settlement, where, nearly four-score years ago, the natives read for the first time the Gospel of Luke in their own tongue. The years that have elapsed since light first shone upon their pathway from the word of God have not been a time of spiritual growth with the majority. Darkness covers the island, and idols of stone that have passed away have been followed by idols of rum and idols of self, and by service of the creature rather than of the Creator. May the Lord, who is alone able to transform the heart, work a work for these natives, is our prayer. A MISS NOTT, who labors under the auspices of the Church Missionary Society of England, writes as follows concerning her work among the lepers at Kumamoto, Kiushiu, Japan:— “Our dear lepers are as ever in our minds. There have been many unavoidable hindrances to getting the hospital started, but a piece of land is almost secured now, and we hope soon to have the building up and work started. We have just had a very urgent application for help from a poor man who has become a leper; he is quite a gentleman, and very well educated, but he absolutely spent his all for medical help, to no effect, for those who call themselves leper doctors in Japan are all quacks. He is a Christian, poor fellow, but this trial seemed more than he could bear, and he was losing faith and hope when he heard of our endeavoring to help lepers; and the missionary through whom he was led to Christ wrote to us about him, begging us to take him at once. It seemed at first impossible, as the hospital is not built yet, but yet it seemed equally impossible to refuse. We hope to get a little house for him, and provide him with board and lodging till the hospital is ready. The offer of help has been a great comfort to him, and just given the needed stimulus to his failing faith. He is most anxious to be of real use in the hospital, and I think that he may be, being a Christian, he may have a great influence for good over the other lepers, and, being an educated man, he will, we hope, be able to take some post of responsibility among them. That we have been able to offer him help is entirely due to the dear friends in England who have so generously responded to our call. People have been so kind! . . . But we still need much more; we have not yet got even quite as much as we shall need to start with, and the expenses of carrying on will be very great—at the lowest computation, £1 per month for each person. Still, we feel sure that God will raise us up friends, even as he has done so far.” Rev. A. T. Leonard, of the American M. E.891 Mission, writing from an asylum at Rurki, in the Northwest Provinces of India, says:— “I find a quadrangle inclosed with a mud wall, three sides of which form the back wall of the houses, which are built in eight blocks, each block having two rooms, with a veranda extending the length of the block. This roof is made of bamboo trellis work (that) and covered with tiles. The floor is beaten earth. Each room has but one entrance, but no doors. “Of furniture, none has been provided by us, each inmate bringing or supplying his own. This consists, in the best-furnished room, of a bamboo bed with straw rope web, a brass drinking vessel (lotá), with a few earthen pots for cooking and storing their supplies, and a brass plate or two to eat out of; this is all the furniture the best hut contains. The poorest hut has a bit of date-palm matting for bed, and some few rags for a mattress, the occupant sleeping for the most part on the floor. It seems as though these poor, wretched creatures realized fully, ‘Dust thou art,’ and, as if from choice, if not from necessity, began to be reconciled to mother earth. “Of cooking, ah, there’s the rub! The flour must be well kneaded before it can be rolled into biscuits (chappáties), but it requires fingers for both kneading and rolling. How can these fingerless palms do that? I asked the question, and, pressing the earth with these same fingerless palms, they replied:— “And how do you roll it out?” “Again clapping one bald palm against the other, they replied, ‘So.’” “Others said, ‘We just roll the dough into a ball, and push it into the hot ashes, and then rake it out with our stumps, and eat it off the floor.’” “The mud floor! Others said, ‘Some of our family have but their feet affected, and they cook for us only, but not for any others.’” “Said I, ‘Will those among you who can, cook for others who cannot? If so, you will receive some compensation for your labors.’” “They replied: ‘No, sir, we are not able to do that. The effort of cooking for ourselves is exhausting; then at times we are even too ill to cook for ourselves.’” “I propose to appoint a man who will preach, and be in charge of the cooking for these people. It will cost £1 a month for the support of a man and his wife. They will require a house to live in. This I will put up at any cost if someone will send me £6 ($30). “Of clothing, a blanket is provided once a year at the beginning of the cold weather, that is, when the funds will allow; otherwise they wear cotton cloth. Some recent arrivals are semi-nude, no clothing having yet been provided. My plan is to make one long garment, reaching from the shoulder to the knee, of suitable material, costing three rupees. Who will clothe one or more of these? Remember the words of Him who said, ‘I was naked, and ye clothed Me.’ “I had the pleasure ten days ago of clothing eleven men in clean white garments, of such a pattern that, simply by inserting their stumps into the short sleeves, it would easily slip over their heads. The poor creatures looked so pleased, and showed their gratitude, folding both hands and bowing to the ground. It would have abundantly repaid any of your generous contributors to have seen this sight. Then, looking round to one another, they smiled a grateful, happy smile. But the pure white against their loathsome, hot, dry, parched, bursting skin made my heart ache, but I prayed to God to make them pure within.” We little appreciate the effect of a kind word upon those who are used to blows. It seems that one evening a young lady abruptly turned a street corner and ran against a boy, who was small and ragged and freckled. Stopping as soon as she could, she turned to him and said:— “I beg your pardon. Indeed, I am very sorry.” The small, ragged, and freckled boy looked up in blank amazement for an instant. Then, taking off about three-fourths of a cap, all he had, he bowed very low, smiled until his face became lost in the smile, and answered:— “You can hev my parding and welcome, miss, and yer may run ag’in me and knock me clean down, an’ I won’t say a word.” After the young lady passed on, he turned to a comrade and said, half apologetically:— “I never had anyone ask my parding before, and it kind o’ took me off my feet.”—Selected. The faculty of Wellesley College has promulgated a list of phrases and expressions to be avoided by the girl collegians, and it might be studied with profit by many girls outside of college: "I guess so," for "I suppose or I think so." "Fix things," for "arrange things" or "prepare things." The use of "ride" and "drive" interchangeably. "Real good" or "real nice," for "very good" or "really nice." "I have studied some," for "studied somewhat," or "I have not studied any," for "not studied at all." "Try an experiment," for "make an experiment." "Had rather," for "would rather," and "had better," for "would better." "Right away," for "immediately," or "now." "Well posted," for "well informed." "Try and do," for "try to do." "It looks good enough," for "it looks well enough." "Somebody else's," for "somebody's else."—Selected. THE first Bible printed with a date was finished by Faust in 1462. Type-setting machines were suggested for book work as early as 1842. Books were printed in Paris from stereotyped plates by Didot in 1798. Ancient books were sometimes written on slabs of wood, ivory, or metals. The first book printed in America is said to have been an almanac, at Boston, in 1639. The first printed engravings for use in books were done on wood, in 1519, in Germany. The first book to have its leaves numbered was "Æsop’s Fables," printed by Caxton, in 1484. Chinese printing was done certainly as early as A.D. 593, books of that date being now in existence. Three-fourths of the inventions used in bookbinding are due to the ingenuity of American binders. The first printed books had their leaves printed on one side only, the blank sides being pasted together.—Monthly World. WE can have both, but if a choice of one is to be made, let it not be perfumery without the bathing. It is pleasant to be able to quote the following from a secular New York daily:— Few women outside of the profession of trained nurses have a proper idea of the beautifying, refining, and wholesome influence of exquisite cleanliness. There would be many more captivating girls and irresistibly charming women if habits of bathing were as general as the vulgar process of scenting and sachet powdering. BELIEF AND UNBELIEF.
By Marie D. Thorne
They were pilgrims and sojourners,
Bent and old and gray,
And they met at the door of an Eastern inn
At the close of a weary day,
And sat them down with sandals loosed,
Weary of mirth and singing,
When a fair, sweet child came tripping in,
A snow-white pillow bringing. One scoffed, “Away with it, away,
I'd rather one of sod.”
The other cried, “Give it to me;
’Tis the promises of God.”
Another was brought by a sullen slave,
And the Christian saw with grief
The worn head sink to broken rest
Upon man’s unbelief. At dawn of day the Christian rose
With a calm and quiet breast.
The skeptic wore a haggard brow
And eyes of deep unrest.
One went forth singing, “We are the sheep
Of his pasture, the flock of his hand.”
The other, “Man drives a wreck before the storm,
And founders at last on the lonely strand.” Living to God
By John Wesley
SETTLE it in your heart that it is the sum of all your business and blessedness to live to God.—J. Wesley. THE NEW TRANSCONTINENTAL FLYER
OF THE COMMENCING
Thursday, Nov. 1, 1894
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Running Every Thursday Until Further Notice
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OVER THE POPULAR The Favorite Route of America for Winter Travel.
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Atlanta, Charlotte, Danville, Washington, Philadelphia, New York, Boston and other Eastern Points. THROUGH SCHEDULE:
Leave SAN FRANCISCO, 10:30 a. m. - Thursday
" LOS ANGELES, 4:00 " - Friday
Arrive EL PASO, 5:30 " - Saturday
" NEW ORLEANS 7:40 p. m. - Sunday
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Through time to NEW YORK CITY, 119 Hours.
Passengers from Los Angeles will take Berths in Special Sleeping Car Thursday Evening. For Further Information, Inquire of any Agent of the RICHARD GRAY
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T. H. GOODMAN
Gen. Pass. Agent. ITS OFFICES AND MANIFESTATIONS TO THE END OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA.
THIS is a brief but comprehensive argument on the solemn and important subject of the Spirit of God. Its chapters embrace the following heads: The Holy Spirit of Promise; The Power from on High; Circumcision of the heart; The Unity of the Faith; The Law and the Testimony; Try the Spirits; The Great Commission; Gifts in the Reformation; In the Present Century; Spirit of Prophecy Restored. These are subjects of vital importance to all and especially to those who are looking for the return of their Lord. 144 pp. Price, 15 cents. Address, PACIFIC PRESS. Oakland, Cal. "Living by Faith." (Spanish.) A translation of Bible Students' Library No. 75; 16 pp.; price, 2 cents. Address, PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING CO., Oakland, Cal. Religious Hostility in Persia
DR. J. H. SHEDD, writing from Oroomish, Persia, about the unfriendliness of the Mohammedans, says: "We have for a year past lived in the stifling atmosphere of religious hate that threatens violence and ruin. The feeling of insecurity follows Christians constantly, and the unfriendliness of the Moslems is pervading. It threatens and reviles, has committed many acts of outrage, and some of murder. The Christians are not always judicious or conciliatory, and a bitter antipathy of race and religion on both sides is engendered. It is very injurious to all missionary work, and all true Christians should pray that the strained relations may yield to the gospel of kindness and good will." Cotton Picking in Mississippi
A MISSISSIPPI correspondent of an Eastern journal gives this picture of the cotton picking season the present year: "The cotton season opens up in full. Our cities are left desolate. The country is made glad by the incomparable hilarity of the dusky cotton picker. In former years only the poorer city negroes spent much time in the cotton patch, but this year preachers, teachers, lawyers—nearly everybody—are in the cotton fields. Very trying times have made all classes ready for any kind of honest toil." Buddhism’s Revival in Japan
REV. J. B. PORTER, of Japan, sees in the semi-revival of Buddhism in Japan one of the causes of the present slow progress of Christianity. "It is not a revival in the sense of a reformation, but an awakening to the necessity of defending itself. The enemy it most fears is Christianity, and every possible means is taken to inflame the prejudice of the people against the teaching of Jesus. Buddhism was never more active in an intellectual way than at present, through the medium of the press and its schools." Missionary Work Among China’s Upper Classes
REV. GILBERT REID, writing to the Occidental Mission Board, San Francisco, says: "Out of 1,500 Protestant missionaries in China, men and women, only three are devoting a large portion of their time to the upper classes, and of these two are especially engaged with the literary department. Such a neglect, and that, too, of an influential class, without whose aid China can never be transformed and uplifted, makes the need both apparent and imperative. To meet the need there must be specialty of attention and concentration of effort. Just at present there is a special need, with special opportunities and facilities, owing to the new crisis in China's history. As a result of war between China and Japan, more may be accomplished to extend Western methods of civilization and education, and to establish Christian institutions, than in thirty years gone by, if only Christian men and women are ready to meet the emergency and meet the demands." Religion and Customs in Guatemala
A CORRESPONDENT of the Presbyterian, writing from Guatemala, says: "The customs and manners of the people of Guatemala are very closely allied to those of Mexico and the next neighbors of the north, and hence such religion as they have is of the very worst and highest form of idolatrous Romanism. This is carried on by a most profligate Jesuit Spanish priesthood, and patronized alone by the simple-minded Indians and the women of the upper classes, by means of their most ostentatious and ritualistic methods of worship. The men of the land are either advanced atheists or else are too sensible to submit themselves to such tomfoolery and mummery, the use of which they, like ourselves, fail to see; and hence they never go to church, save when young, to carry on flirtations with some señorita, but rather prosecute their business the same as on any other day, and spend their leisure, as usual, in the cantinas (saloons), at billiards and gambling—almost the only forms of general amusement known in these countries." THE imprisonment of orderly, honest, and respected citizens in Maryland, on account of their faith, brings to mind a contrast between her former and present politics. In 1649, while a colony of Great Britain, religious toleration was enacted for all Christian sects and churches excepting those who denied the Trinity. At the present time all are tolerated excepting those who keep the commandments of God. There is a State Sunday law, but all manner of people are practically exempt from its penalties excepting those who conscientiously observe the seventh day of the week. In one locality, at least, Shady Side, Anne Arundel County, they were recently mobbed for even holding religious services in their own house on Sunday. It seems that in that vicinity Sunday is deemed to have been made for Sunday keepers and non-religionists, and those who keep the commandments of God are privileged to live on that day only by toleration. Yet Maryland is a part of this so-called "Christian nation," and most of the other States have laws of which similar advantage may be taken whenever the enmity or jealousy of intolerant bigots becomes aroused to such a pitch as to prompt their enforcement. The following letter from a victim of Maryland injustice, now in jail at Centreville, Queen Anne County, speaks for itself:— CENTREVILLE, MD., JAIL, Nov. 12, 1894.
EDITOR SIGNS OF THE TIMES: It isn’t news to your readers to-day, but it is a crying shame, that in Maryland, and in other places as well, men who profess to be followers of the meek and lowly Saviour persist in persecuting others who also profess to be Christians. Our Lord gave as the sum of his law, “As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” Yet, in stepping out to keep God’s commandments in this land, where Brother Curlett and myself have lived nearly all our lives, and never were before a court on any charge, we are now in jail for exercising our faith in Almighty God. We are serving a term of imprisonment because, after we had kept the Sabbath according to the commandment, we went about our work on the other six days of the week. Two of the charges against me were for cutting wood at my wood pile, the same work that I have done many times for half the day on Sunday without protest—until I joined myself with a few others who are willing to follow the commandments of God rather than the traditions of men. We feel to praise God that, though we have been separated from our families and robbed of our liberty by being thrust in jail, he will never leave us nor forsake us. He has said it, and we know that it is true. The sheriff and family are all very kind and generous in providing for our comfort.
Yours in the blessed hope,
R. R. WHALEY. LET US WORK AND PRAY.
By George Frisbie
BRETHREN, we are called to labor
In our blessed Master's name,
Called the precious seed to scatter,
Fearless of reproach or shame.
See the fields are white to harvest;
Still the laborers are few;
Jesus calls on you, my brethren,
Something in his name to do.
Look around you; souls are living
Heedless of the coming day,
When the things of time shall vanish
And forever pass away.
Why not tell them of the Saviour,
Who was nailed upon the tree,
That, by tasting death for sinners,
They might be from sin set free.
Tell the worldling and the careless
Of your Saviour's boundless love;
Tell the outcast and the wanderer
Of a home with Christ above.
Let the love of Christ constrain you
To proclaim the joyful sound
Of salvation for the guilty,
And a ransom for the bound.
Ask your Lord for grace to labor;
He will give you all you need;
Seek the Spirit's help and guidance
Earnestly with souls to plead.
Let your seed by prayer be watered
Ere you strew it o'er the ground;
With your Father's blessing on it,
It shall yet with fruit abound.
While our Lord delays his coming,
Do not idle time away,
O my brethren, be not weary;
Now's the time to work and pray.