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PREACHING IN THE PEST-HOUSE
Just why the dear Lord saw best to permit me to take the loathsome disease of smallpox into my system, I know not; but I do know the same God that made man and pronounced him very good, permitted Job and many others of His people to suffer many things. Of one thing I am certain, the Lord permitted me to preach the Gospel in the pest-house. No one was allowed there but the physician of the Board of Health and those in charge, and there were many lost ones there and no gospel services for years and not even the superintendent and his family were allowed to go to church. I had held meetings in almost every other place and I now had opportunity to go there, this being the only way to get to them. During the summer of 1901 I was taken very ill and the sixth doctor pronounced the disease smallpox. There was no alternative but to prepare for the hospital, which I did unaided. This was remarkable; for I had been very near death, the suffering both mentally and physically was so intense and the agony so great. Surely God heard the prayers of His believing ones and raised me up to once more go forth to glorify His name by preaching His gospel and singing His praises. Bless His holy name!
I was hedged in with God. He got the glory of my healing. I bless the Lord that in answer to prayer He never let one person take the disease from me that we knew of. When leaving the minister's home where I was taken sick, I was shouting and praising the Lord. I told the mission workers I was sure I could go to Heaven even from the pest-house, with the smallpox. I told the young sister with me to bring the tracts for service in the hospital. I had told her that morning that there would be several doctors call and hold a consultation and pronounce the disease smallpox and they would take me to the pest-house, and I expected I would die there. I had such victory in my soul that I just shouted and praised the Lord.
In the hospital I was given the privilege of all the wards to sing and pray and talk with the patients. Some were in a very dangerous condition, and others convalescent. Others were trembling with fear, having been exposed and quarantined here to protect the public from contagion. Those were weeks of suffering, although full of service and song. The hymns were listened to with the greatest delight even by foreigners who could not understand our language. I often wonder why professing Christians are not as careful about the spread of sin as people are about the transmitting of disease. The same day I left the hospital the Lord sent me out on a long journey to preach the gospel on the train. As I was talking with the conductor, there was a sudden stop and he ran to find the cause. Our engine had become disabled on a bridge, and as a train was coming behind us, the trainmen ran to flag the coming train before it should overtake us; but it was too late. I dropped on my knees on the platform of the rear car and asked God to spare our lives. I arose, took in the situation, went to my seat in the center of the car and again knelt in prayer. I turned to look just as the engine struck our car, raising it about five feet in the air, crushing timbers and glass, and causing a panic among the passengers. I was blest of God through it all, and went immediately to work holding meetings while we waited some hours for help to come. I see so plainly the hand of the Lord in all this. I might have left the train when on the rear platform, but I felt impressed to stay with those on board and call on God for help. Do you wonder that when all our lives were spared I felt that as the Lord gave all on the ship into Paul's hands, so in this case, as in many others, the wise Master gave me those who traveled with me? "As thy days so shall thy strength be." "A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee."
HOW THE LORD PROVIDES
One night in San Francisco while holding a meeting in the Old Adelphi Theater, I was impressed to give a dollar to a sister who often sang and exhorted in our service and who assisted me that night. At the close of the meeting I handed her a silver dollar. She seemed much surprised and said, "No, I should not take this from you." I told her God showed me to give her that dollar and I must obey Him; so she took the money.
The next day, while waiting for the street car on a public thoroughfare, I saw a man giving out ladies' fashion plates. I spoke kindly to him and suggested how much more good he could do by giving out tracts. He replied that that was the way he made his living—that the firm paid him for his services. I told him that God would care for him if he only trusted and served Him, but he evidently thought me somewhat of a fanatic. Just then a well-dressed old gentleman spoke to me and said, "Do you belong to the Salvation Army?" I said that I did not and he then asked, "What is your work?" I answered, "I am a missionary to the prisoners and lost girls." He handed me a dollar and hurried on. The man with whom I had been speaking looked on surprised and said, "Who was that man?" I said, "I do not know; I never saw him before and may never see him again." He was evidently thinking, for I had told him that God provided for me and would provide for him if he would but work for Him, and God was giving him an object lesson. I said, "I believe the Lord sent that man to convince you that what I said was true for I never ask any person for money, but trust all to Providence."
Going on my way later in the day, outside the city where I changed cars, I saw hurrying toward me the same man who had given me the dollar in the morning. He said, "I have been thinking all day about you and what you said and here is another dollar for you." I told him how I felt God had used him to convince the fashion plate man, that if we fully trust and serve the Lord He will provide for us. I have never seen either of these men again since that day, but God sent me the two dollars in place of the one dollar I had given that poor woman the night before, in the meeting.
The sequel was given me sometime after this when I again met that poor sister. She said to me, "Sister Wheaton, I want to tell you about the dollar you gave me that night in the meeting," and then she said: "I had nothing in my house for my children to eat (there was a large family of them), and husband was out of work. I had to wash next day and had neither soap nor starch, and I had to go across the city to pray for a sick woman, whose son had said that he would believe in God and serve him if his mother were healed in answer to prayer. I had to take that young man with me and pay his car fare and my own. The mother was healed and the young man, being convinced, yielded himself to God and was converted and became a Christian." And then she added, "All this your dollar did, for I had prayed God to send me a dollar that night and you obeyed God and see what was accomplished through obedience to the God who hears the ravens when they cry and notes the sparrow's fall."
Then I related to her my experience to show how the Lord used a stranger to return me double, or two dollars instead of one, and perhaps saved two men—for God was evidently dealing both with the stranger who gave me the money and with the one with whom I was speaking on the street.
MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS
I was once called upon to minister to the needs of a woman who was burned almost to death. I assisted the doctor as best I could to dress the burns. I took the scissors and cut the loose flesh from her arm, and held her while the doctor filed the rings from her hands.
If I had not been previously convinced by the Scriptures of the folly of wearing rings I think this awful sight would have been sufficient to satisfy any doubts in my mind, as they cut so cruelly deep into the charred and swollen flesh. She finally passed away to that land where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.
While being entertained at a certain place a few years ago, a caller was announced one evening, to see "Mother Wheaton." Entering the parlor a tall, handsome man, dressed in the uniform of a policeman, advanced to greet me. I bowed politely, but perhaps a little distantly, as I did not know him. He came forward and extended his hand cordially, saying, "Don't you know me, Mother?" I said, "No, I do not know you." He said "I sang in – prison in the choir. I served a term there and heard you sing and preach there. This is my daughter," and he presented a nice looking young lady who was with him. He said he now held a responsible position and was getting along nicely, and invited me to come and visit his family.
While holding meetings in a little town in one of the southern states, I was entertained at the home of a wealthy man who was accused of crime. He had a beautiful wife and lovely children. I was greatly troubled about his condition. I held meetings there in the home. I was treated very kindly and cordially welcomed, but he would not yield to God. I warned him faithfully, and plead with him to repent of his sins and become a Christian. I told him that a terrible calamity awaited him if he did not yield himself to the Lord. I went away believing it was his last chance of salvation. Not long after that he laid in wait to kill a man against whom he had had a grudge for some time; but the other man seeing his intention, drew his revolver and fired in self-defence. The man fell dead. He had had his last call. He had rejected the Lord and was ushered into eternity without a moment's warning.
One day years ago, in M–, Mississippi, I went on the street to hold a meeting. A policeman came along and forbade me after I had begun to sing, saying it was against the law to hold religious services on the street. My spirit was grieved as I felt the Lord had a work for me to do among the poor and lowly who were too poorly clad to attend church services. A sister (a woman of God who entertained me) was with me. She then proposed taking me to see a sick child, an infant. When we reached the house we found the young parents weeping over their dying child. My heart was touched with sympathy, and kneeling down I asked Him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me," to heal the child for His glory. I believed His word where it says, "The prayer of faith shall save the sick." My faith touched divinity, the child was healed and the young parents, seeing the power of God manifested, were converted, and gave their lives to God for His service.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Selections from My Scrap Book
Many of the selections given in this chapter were written by prisoners and given me by them. The others may not all be new to the reader, but I have thought them of sufficient value to thus preserve, as they may be reread with profit, and no doubt may be read here by many who have not seen them elsewhere. Such will surely feel the time it takes to read them well spent.
Many of the songs I have sung are not in print here, as they are familiar or may be found in popular books; others I thought might be copyrighted and I do not know the owner, etc. I have not meant to use any copyright selections without procuring the right to do so, but if through mistake any have been used I shall be glad to make due requital.
THE AUTHOR OF FLOWER MISSION DAY
I once visited this sister, a saint, meekly lying upon her bed, and when I asked if she would like for Jesus to heal her, she said God could use her better in that condition.
E. R. W.
Jennie Cassady was born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1840. She came to earth through no royal line of ancestry. No booming cannon and flying flags proclaimed the birth of a princess. No jeweled hand beckoned her to a place of rank and title. Nothing in babyhood or girlhood distinguished her above what is visible in ten thousand homes to-day. But as she stepped over the threshold into womanhood, there fell upon her a great calamity—a cruel accident made her a cripple and an invalid for life. But in her afflictions she arose to a sublimity and sweetness of soul that has challenged the admiration of two continents. And out of the awful shadows that fell upon her she has gathered up the sunbeams of God's smiles and scattered them into the dark places of earth. Out of that one little darkened room in Kentucky there has gone forth an inspiration that has fired the heart of heroic Christian womanhood. And out of the darkness that smote her pathway leaped the lances of light that pierces the gloom of prison walls. A gleam from that radiant life touches the poet's fancy, and gives us these beautiful lines.
J. M. CROCKER,Prison Chaplain.
FLOWER DAY AT THE PRISON
Composed and read by F. L. Platt at the Iowa State Prison at Anamosa, June 9th, 1894.
In a cottage in Kentucky,
In the years that have gone by,
Was a woman, oh, so lonely,
She'd been given up to die.
As she lay upon her sick bed,
Ere the spark of life had flown,
Neighbors called, and strangers also,
Whom before she had not known.
They had heard of her misfortune,
Day and night she lingered there;
And to make her life more cheerful
Seemed to be their every care.
Now they come, with noiseless footsteps,
As the rose is kissed with dew,
Each one bringing in some sunshine,
In "these flowers I've brought for you."
As she looked into their faces,
Realizing death had come,
"Take these flowers," she said, "I'm dying,"
They will brighten other homes.
Take them, give them to the children
Who in orphans' homes are found,
Who have parents silent sleeping
Underneath some grassy mound.
Take them, place them by the bedside
Of some one whose life is drear;
They will bring a ray of sunshine,
They will drive away a tear.
Take them, bear them to the prison,
Where the trembling convict stands;
They'll encourage and they'll cheer him,
And they'll help him be a man.
They will speak to him of Heaven,
Of a home with God above;
They'll dispel the gloom and heartache,
They'll recall a mother's love.
They'll remind him of a sister,
With youth's bloom upon her brow,
With whom he used to gather flowers
When life was bright as yours is now.
They'll recall some little sweetheart
In the early spring of life,
Who, when summer flowers were blooming,
He had asked to be his wife.
Oh, that wife! may God's own blessing
Rest upon her loyal head;
Though he's caused her many a heartache,
She would love him were he dead.
Then with all these sacred memories
Welling in these hearts of ours,
Who in all this land of sunshine
Could forbid this gift of flowers?
Bring the flowers with sweetest perfume,
This is flower mission day;
Some forlorn, discouraged prisoner,
"You may rescue, you may save."
Blest the home that knows no sorrow,
Blest that wife, whose tears are joy,
Blest that mother who in old age,
Can lean upon her darling boy.
Men, look up, the clouds have gathered,
Some of them are silver-lined;
There's a day when all creation
Will be marshalled into line.
When these prison walls are sundered;
When the grave gives up its dead,
All may march the streets of Heaven
Who by Jesus Christ are led.
LINES BY A PRISONER TO HIS WIFE
These lines were handed me by the author. I insert them here because of their clear testimony to the saving grace of God and the love they manifest for wife and children:
Dearest wife, you know I love thee,
Deep as yonder sky;
Know that love can never fade,
Affection never die.
Though in prison I am cast,
And cannot now return,
Yet on thee my love reclines,
For thee my heart will burn.
God has made us one indeed,
In ways the world can never know.
One, like drops of water found
Within the pure white snow.
God has made us one indeed;
Has joined us, hand and heart;
What God has joined together, wife,
Let no man put apart.
As well might men uproot the earth
As by their scoff or scorn
Think to accomplish parting us
Because our hearts now mourn.
Nay, dear wife, I feel for thee,
As ne'er I felt before,
Prizing thee with deeper strength
For pining sad and sore.
While there you wait my glad release,
The day that sets me free,
Await my coming home to wife;
Yes, wife and children three.
And I will come. Have patience, wife,
The time will wear away,
And day by day approaches near
That glad releasing day.
With little baby in your arms,
Two others at your knee;
I know, dear wife, your heart is sad
And longs to see me free.
To help you in your daily toil;
To earn for them their bread;
To clothe and help and comfort them,
And find a shelter for each head.
But cheer up, wife, and so will I,
As mankind surely may,
Till darkness fade in morning light
That ushers in the day.
And oh, what joy will visit us,
What peace in that glad hour;
Our home shall then renew its strength
In all its silent power.
Here as I lay me down to sleep,
In my narrow little cell,
I think of the happy times we've spent
In the shady wooded dell.
How we plucked the flowers beside our path,
And strolled along the stream,
Neither feeling aught of sorrow,
For life was like a pleasant dream.
But alas, my dear one, all is changed;
And we are parted now for years;
But well we know that God will come
And wipe away our falling tears.
Sin, dear wife, hast brought the change;
Sin has caused our grief and pain;
But now that I trust in Jesus
I will never fall again.
In my very darkest moments
Would you know what comforts me?
'Tis my living faith in Jesus,
In Him who died on Calvary.
He died on the cross for you, dear wife,
His precious blood was shed for me;
All our sins on Him were laid
When they nailed Him to the tree.
And now that blessed Saviour,
Who was born at Bethlehem,
Looks down from the heights of heaven
On the sinful souls of men.
His thoughts are full of mercy,
His heart is filled with love.
He is pleading with the Father
That we might come above.
So we will trust our Saviour,
And follow where He leads;
And say, in faith believing,
He'll provide for all our needs.
So we'll walk close beside Him
And let Him take our hand;
As He points, with face all shining,
To that bright and happy land.
And oft to others round us
The story we will tell,
How Jesus Christ saves sinners,
The heavenly hosts to swell.
You will tell them, wife, how He found me,
Sinful and all cast down,
And how through love He raised me up
And promised me a crown.
And when we see still others
Caught in Satan's snare,
We'll lead them on to Jesus,
And leave them in His care.
And when He treats them gently,
As He treats both you and me,
Other sinners, looking on,
To His bosom soon will flee.
For thus the world around us
For Christ could soon be won;
He'll end in glorious triumph
The work He has begun.
All glory then to Jesus!
Sing praises to His name!
He saved lost sinners years gone by,
And today He'll do the same.
In language very simple
I've told to you, dear wife,
My love to you, your love to me,
And the love of Jesus Christ.
So we'll just keep on trusting
In the Saviour God has given;
And He will fill with peace
Our journey on to heaven.
And we'll not forget the Father,
But give thanks for all He's done,
In giving us our Saviour,
In His own beloved Son.
WOMAN'S LOVE
TO MRS. WHEATON
These lines are most respectfully presented as a prisoner's tribute of sincere respect:
O, woman's love, past understanding!
So near to God's, so wondrous deep:
Deep as the depths of space; expanding
Till it blooms beyond death's mystic sleep
Throughout the earth, the rich and lowly
It reigns supreme within her breast.
O, woman's love! through its beauty holy
She will win eternal rest.
Born of woman, purest, dearest
Lily of fair Bethlehem,
Christ to her will be the nearest
In his bright home—Jerusalem.
A fadeless flower in beauty blooming
'Midst heaven's host of immortelles.
His peerless love her soul perfuming
She'll reign a queen mid arch angels
J. W. L.Cole City, Ga., Sunday night, Nov. 17, 1889.
TAKE THIS MESSAGE TO MY MOTHER
(Written by a Prisoner in Jackson, Miss.)
Take this message to my mother,
It will fill her heart with joy;
Tell her that her prayer is answered,
Christ has saved her wandering boy:
Tho' through sin from home I've wandered,
And I almost broke her heart;
Tell her to be glad and cheerful,
Never from the Lord I'll part.
CHORUS.
Take this message to my mother,
It will fill her heart with joy;
Tell her that her prayer is answered,
Christ has saved her wandering boy.
How she wept when last we parted,
How her heart did ache with pain
When she said: "Good-bye, God bless you,
We may never meet again."
O my boy, just look to Jesus,
What a friend He is to all!
Only trust Him, He will save you—
Can't you hear His sweet voice call?
In this world of sin are many
Who have wandered far from God.
Will your mother's prayers be answered?
Listen, sinner, you, her boy.
You have ofttimes heard this warning,
In your heart conviction's deep;
God is calling to the wanderer
Who asks mercy at his feet.
