Prisons and Prayer Part 47

A Mother's Plea for Her Fallen Daughter.

So tenderly reared in the pure country air, So innocent, gracious and true, A sweet loving daughter, so gentle and fair.

Of the great wicked world naught she knew, She roamed on the hillside and plucked the sweet flowers, Nor far from my sight did she stray, Till a shy cunning charmer invaded her bowers, And stole my loved treasure away.

With words fair and lovely he won her young heart, Then wooed her far from the home nest, Then hastily pressed to the city's great mart, My darling he tore from my breast; So simple, confiding, ne'er dreaming of harm.

She laid her young life at his feet, And the foul, venomed viper pierced her heart with a thorn, And left her to die in the street.

All wounded and bleeding and covered with shame, And knowing not wither to go, In the haunts of the vilest she cringed her away, To hide her disgrace and her woe; Could I know she had gone from this cold, cruel world, My grief would be easy to bear, But to satiate vile pa.s.sions her life-blood is sold, And my broken heart pleads in my prayer.

Oh, bring back my darling, a poor bruised thing, The victim of Satan's deceit, O tell her I love her, though cursed by the fiend That crushed her to h.e.l.l 'neath his feet.

O pity my daughter, my poor fallen one, Ye who have daughters so fair, And s.h.i.+eld not the monster who spoiled my loved one And drove my poor heart to despair.

Chicago, Ill.

--MARY WEEMS CHAPMAN.

For some years I have been quite intimately a.s.sociated with friends who have, perhaps, the largest Rescue Home in the world. I am told that they have taken in more girls than any other Home of the kind.

Over 1,250 girls have there been confined and never have they lost one of these young mothers by death. But, oh, it is a sad sight to see them, day after day carrying their load of sorrow in their hearts.

Often when I am there, as I manifest toward them my love and sympathy, they tell me their story of woe sad as was the cry of Eve when banished from the presence of G.o.d. She yielded to Satan's devices because she believed the voice of Satan rather than the voice of G.o.d.

She became an outcast--and so our sisters are still being deceived by the devil in human form and become outcasts from all that is good.

Some of them have been won by a mess of pottage, a mere bauble or a gewgaw. Others have the promise of love--that which every human heart craves. These believe, trust, yield and are ruined and some of them are so young! so ignorant! Then there are some who have been basely betrayed or brutally forced and then left to bear alone their shame and disgrace--for, alas! the "traffic in girls" is not an imaginary thing, but an awful reality.

O that the good people of our fair land would awaken and see that justice is done in behalf of the helpless and innocent! Prevention is better than cure. Let us guard the children and put down every influence that would tend to demoralize either our boys or girls! But in the meantime, let us do all within our power to lift up the fallen and win back those who have gone astray and share the burden and sorrow of those who suffer through no fault of their own.

Those who have been daring in sin often make the most gifted, consecrated and valiant workers for G.o.d and souls when truly and fully saved. I bless the Lord for the privilege of seeking and finding some of these "diamonds in the rough." I have known many Christian workers who had once been criminals or fallen, but who had been rescued by some one who had a knowledge of human nature and a heart filled with the love of G.o.d who told them of the love of Christ and His wonderful power to save. O when we all meet in the great Hereafter what a time of rejoicing there will be among the rescuers and the rescued.

DRUNKEN WOMEN AND MEN.

I find hundreds of men and women, many young women, in drunkenness and crime, and the most open daring sins. In one of the largest drinking dens in the world I asked the proprietor if I might sing a hymn, and he gave his consent. I was obliged to go down stairs and through many rooms and hallways and then up a dark stairway to the platform where the orchestra was playing. When they ceased I sang a hymn which touched their hearts and they cheered the singing. I offered a prayer and they all seemed to appreciate it. There were hundreds of _men_ only, drinking, miners and others. Then I went where there were both men and women drinking, and sang and prayed with them. At near midnight, while I was engaged in prayer, one of the poor, unfortunate girls clasped my hand and put a piece of silver in it, and stood holding my hand till I rose. She cried and spoke of her desire to be good. She was reminded of her old home and her mother. The proprietor then told me I must leave, as he found he would lose her from his den.

He said he was once a Christian himself, and on coming west, saw the money to be made in that kind of business, and fell, and went deep in sin, leading others down with himself.

a.s.sAULTED IN A DIVE.

While in San Pedro, California, I went, one night, into a saloon to invite the men to a gospel meeting at the mission on the same block, and the keeper sprang up from his gambling table, where he was engaged with several others in a game of some kind, and rus.h.i.+ng towards me, violently grabbed me by the arms, and then with both hands clutching me, rushed me to the door, using vile and insulting epithets to me as he went. At the door a lady said, "This is a public house; you dare not throw people out who have done you no harm." He finally released his Satanic grasp upon me. I had only spoken a few kindly words to two young men standing at the bar in the act of raising their gla.s.ses to their lips. I had just said, "Don't drink it, boys, please don't,"

when the a.s.sault was made. As the saloonist rushed at me, I said, "Don't touch me, please; I will go out." But he seemed fiendishly happy in injuring and insulting a helpless old woman, who only wished to do them all good, and see them saved in Heaven at last. The only excuse he ever made was that he thought I was Carrie Nation.

Commenting on this occurrence, a Los Angeles paper contained the following item:

San Pedro, March 29.--"Mother" Wheaton, a well known prison evangelist, was roughly a.s.saulted by John Wilkins, a Front street saloonkeeper, shortly after seven o'clock last evening. Mrs.

Wheaton was preaching to a large gathering in front of Wilkins'

joint, and hearing loud cursing within, the aged reformer entered, intending to invite the blasphemers to Peniel Mission, where services are held every evening. She had scarcely pa.s.sed inside the doors of the dive, when Wilkins rushed forward, seized her and thrust her backward. At the same time he applied vile epithets to her, shouting angrily: "Get out of here, woman, and be quick about it!"

So badly was Mrs. Wheaton injured that she was unable to return to the mission without a.s.sistance. She is confined to her bed and is suffering severe pains from the shock.

Wilkins explained today that he mistook Mrs. Wheaton for Carrie Nation, whom the former resembles. No arrests have been made.

In a city where I had been preaching the Gospel, a messenger came stating that a young girl had cut her throat. It was an extremely hot day and I had to walk a long distance across the city. Arriving at the house they told me that no one was allowed to go in. But I went right in and everybody stood back. Kneeling down by the poor girl I took her hand already growing cold in death. Poor child! Like thousands of others, she had been disappointed in life. The one who had plighted his troth had broken her heart, and rather than bear her shame she preferred death. Then and there I had the privilege of pointing this beautiful girl to Christ who said, "Neither do I condemn thee. Go and sin no more," and He who never turns anyone away heard and answered prayer.

One day I held a meeting in the Crittenden Home for Fallen Girls, in Was.h.i.+ngton. They all seemed so glad to hear me. (There were thirty girls.) They were deeply moved. After the meeting closed I took each by the hand and exhorted them to live pure and holy lives. And with tears in their eyes they promised to try and serve the Lord. One dear little girl in a short dress (fourteen years old), clung to me crying, and said Jesus had saved her just then, in the meeting, and she would be a good girl and live for Heaven. I clasped her to my heart and thought what Jesus said about him who offends "one of these little ones." Some heartless wretch had ruined the girl and left her to die alone. "Vengeance is _mine_, _I_ will repay, saith the Lord."

A GIRL SAVED.

Trying to rescue a girl in a low dive in New York city in 1890, as I entered the den the keeper, a large, strong man, sprang up and struck me a blow. The girl caught his arm and cried out, "Don't strike her, she is a lady." But he thrust me out, and I said to her, "Fly for your life--out at the back door." I ran around the saloon and caught her away from an angry mob and with the help of the sisters with me, almost carried her six blocks to the Crittenden Home, and there she was reformed and converted.

A GIRL REJECTED AT RESCUE HOME.

In Ft. Worth, Texas, I once found in the jail a poor girl who was a very desperate character. She had been at the Rescue Home several times, and she was so very wicked that they refused to have her there again. They said it was of no use trying to reclaim her. I well remember the night that the Lord sent me to the jail to hold a meeting. The service was held after dark, as the prisoners were compelled to work during the day. I was intensely grieved and very much burdened over the case of this poor girl. So intelligent, yet so sinful! In my grief, I fell upon the floor weeping over her lost condition.

A sister who was with me, and on her way then to India, prayed for me as well as for the poor prisoners, and the lost girl. The meeting closed, and the next day we left the city, the sister going west, while I started north.

After we left Ft. Worth, my heart was still sad and greatly pained for the poor lost girl I had seen in the jail and I wrote to the superintendent of the Rescue Home and pleaded with her to try her just once more--not only for my sake, but for the sake of Jesus. She did so, and the result was that the girl was saved and began a life of virtue and usefulness.

A year or so later, I was again at Ft. Worth, and was holding services in the Girls' Rescue Home. As they a.s.sembled for the meeting I shook hands with each of them. I said of one of the girls to the matron, "This girl looks like a good Christian--who is she?" The girl herself replied, "Don't you know me, mother?" I said, "No." Then she answered, "I am the girl you rescued from the prison;" and the matron said that she was the best girl in the home. I went back after another year, and she was the matron's a.s.sistant. Still later the superintendent told me that she was a deaconess in New York, and was doing a great work. This same lady told me how she had shortly before come across my letter in which I begged her mother-in-law, who was the former superintendent, to help the girl and give her just one more chance! Oh, how wonderfully G.o.d had answered my prayers and the yearning of my heart that night when the burden of her soul rested so heavily upon me!

ROBBED BY HER OWN BROTHER.

A lovely girl was once drugged by her deceiver and left to bear her shame alone. She was led to a rescue home where she was cared for.

Sometime after the birth of her child, which she dearly loved, her father died, and left her $1,000. She was induced by her brother to come to the city where he was living, and give him the money, which he and his wife used recklessly. They then moved, leaving the poor girl sitting on the steps without money enough even to buy milk for her babe. The poor girl was almost distracted with grief. I found her a temporary home with Christian people and a little later secured transportation for her to a rescue home in another city where she could be kindly provided for.

In that hour of despair, when I found her, she was almost ready to yield to the enemy of her soul, through temptation of the same wretch who had first effected her ruin. She could go hungry herself, she said, but she could not see her babe suffer for want of food.

Sisters, let us try by all possible means to befriend our own s.e.x and help all who are thrown in our way, heavenward.

NEGLECTED BY THE CHURCHES.

I once went to a city where there are many churches and professors of religion, and yet there in the Home for Fallen Girls, where I held services I found the inmates neglected. I then went to the poorhouse where over a hundred poor and crippled dest.i.tute people were so glad to hear me sing hymns while they partook of their dinner. They seemed to wonder who and what I was, yet, how glad they were when they understood it was for the love of their souls Jesus had sent me to tell them of His great love. Thank G.o.d for the privilege of going to these places. G.o.d always finds a way when there seems to be no way.

So I must say in concluding that of all those who have my sympathy and my help, my prayers and my tears, prisoners, and all, the poor, abandoned, forsaken girl, who has no one to share her sorrow and her shame claims and receives my deepest sympathy and a.s.sistance. There is no one on whom Jesus had more compa.s.sion and yet the croakers are often the ones to send her to worse shame by their neglect and cruelty. Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more."

"She is more to be pitied than censured, She is more to be loved than despised, She is only a poor girl who has ventured On life's rugged path ill-advised.

Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter, Don't laugh at her shame and downfall; Just pause for a moment, consider That a man was the cause of it all."

VISIT TO A HOSPITAL.

One Sunday, years ago, I visited a hospital in a certain city and found it in a most terrible condition. There were many sick, both men and women, and how glad they were to see me! The public were not permitted inside the grounds, but the superintendent being absent I was admitted. The patients were suffering with hunger, and were in a most filthy condition.

I found both colored men and women in the same room and all covered with body lice. One old colored woman was almost eaten alive with vermin, and starving. They would not give her even a drink of water. I gave her water and she drank a quart and begged for more. I asked her if she would like to have me bring her something to eat. She said, "Oh, yes, Honey." I said, "What can you eat?" She said, "A crust of bread--I's so hungry, been hungry so long."

My heart was sick at the sights and sounds of suffering and anguish. I told the Lord about it. All night I cried and prayed. I got up early, got a large, fat chicken, made soup, got provisions and a couple to help me carry the things, and went to that miserable place. I got access to the building with my food and all got a share. I never will forget the looks on the faces of those starving sufferers, and the tears coursing down their wan, pale cheeks, as I and dear Mary, my helper, fed them. One poor old white brother said he was ashamed to have us near him.

I took along clothing for the poor old colored woman, and had to take the scissors and cut the garment off from her, and put it in the stove. I found the mattress decaying under her.