Then she was lost to sight in the thick jungle.
The wretched mother over and over again lifted up her voice and called her
child by name, but there was no voice, and none that gave answer, and she
turned her dreary steps homeward. We questioned her, and it was just as we
feared. This sweet, innocent girl was leaving her mother's care for the
first time, to go and live with that man to whom she now belonged. And only
those who know something of the East know what that would mean to that
frail, innocent little one.
For days that scene haunted me in all its freshness, and it haunts me
still. My heart bleeds for the little girls of India, for I love them so.
O, that something could be speedily done for these little sisters of ours!
VERA CHILSON.
A Plea for Missions
O, SOULS that know the love of God,
And know it deep and true,
The love that in your heart is shed abroad
Shall others share with you?
And do you count it joy to give
Of what to you is given,
That erring souls may hear the word, and live
In hope of rest and heaven?
If not, lift up your blinded eyes,
And let the light break in;
Behold a world that, bruised and groaning, lies
Beneath the curse of sin.
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