"The next group, clad in deep mourning, is brought by a professional opera singer: a babe in arms, a boy and girl aged two and four, evidently born in a much higher sphere—pretty, refined children. At their mother's death this young woman took charge of them, their father having promised to pay 1 pound a week for their support;—an empty promise it proved, for the 'gentleman' absconded, heavily in debt to many others. The children's friend can no longer afford to keep them, though she seems tenderly attached to them, and will not part with the baby as long as she can maintain it. The only way open to her was to let the children wander on the street, on the chance of their being taken up by the police and put in the workhouse, at the same time risking her own imprisonment if discovered. Mercifully she heard of the Refuge, and came to beg a home for these deserted lambs.
"A widowed mother, whose failing eyesight prevents her sewing, and whose earnings by charing cannot support herself and four children, heard Miss Macpherson speak at the Moorgate Street Hall Noon Prayer-Meeting, and was led to bring little Alice to her, pleading for Christian care. Amid many tears she tells of the wayward wilfulness of the elder girl, out at all hours of day and night, and whose pernicious example is too likely to ruin the little sisters."
Could such cases be sent away, or a deaf ear turned to the cry of these "young children asking bread, and no man giving it them?" (Lam. iv. 4.)
Miss Macpherson also writes:—"Many of those, once the little match-box makers, are now Christian girls taking our counsel and going as servants into Christian families.
"Thus our child-loving hearts cannot refuse to rescue the sorrowful children that come to us to escape the atrocities of the almost unacknowledged bloodless war that goes on in our midst. Most of the fifty rescues now under our care are here through the slain upon the battle-field of drink, shaven heads telling the tale of neglect. The last two motherless little girls sent to us were turned out by their drunken stepfather.
"The leader of our class for mothers and widows says that it is almost impossible to visit them, their unmurmuring sufferings are so touching. In many of their little garrets almost everything is sold. And these are the saints of the Lord—those who will very soon go in to the King more than conquerors. Yes, these are they from whom we learn our best lessons of trust and patience, how to deal with sceptics, and how to go down and share our crust with a suffering sister."
"Oh, friends, listen to a mother's sad words. 'Some days nothing all day. A little relief comes with the parish allowance; but many a morning those hungry voices ask? Mother, is this the day for bread?' Hear in fancy your loved and cherished little ones asking this, and you will feel for that mother's heart. She recalls one day that she left them crying for bread; but she left One with them, the children's Friend. He quieted them; and when after two hours the mother returned, she found them sleeping. 'But, oh,' she said, 'that sight just broke-my heart, so starved they looked—even the baby in Lizzie's arms—all just like little skeletons! I couldn't help it; I just sat down and wept.' Only with tears could we hear such a tale. No other response would come as we took in the picture; and it did not mend our sorrow when she added, 'There were thousands such as these.'" Oh, the intense longing that her voice could reach to those drawing-rooms yonder! Will not the echo of it, coming in this form, cause some, not in imagination merely, but in reality, to "come and see?" Climb the dark stair, and hear for yourself these melting stories, which will fill your heart with pity, and not leave you wondering what will interest next. What a privilege, yea, high honour, it is to be allowed to take messages for Jesus! It was stated lately in a crowded gathering of six thousand, as the misery of the poor was dwelt on, that if God were to ask the angels in heaven if any were willing to spend fifty or a hundred years down here to befriend some? little shoeless, homeless boy, for whom no Christian was caring, to tell him of Jesus, and lead him to heaven, 'why, in three minutes,' were the burning words, 'I don't believe there'd be an angel left within the pearly gates.'"
"My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." That which is called the day of rest, is at the Home of Industry one of varied and incessant labour; one day may serve as a specimen. Before the usual hour for morning service, two of the lady-workers start for the Fenchurch Street Station, to hold a Bible-class with the railway porters; others at the same time leave for Bird Fair. Bird Fair would he a sad sight to witness on any day in any place, how humiliating it is to behold on that which is called the Lord's Day in a so-called Christian land. Here, from eleven till one, dog-stealers parade their ill-gotten prey, and crowds through which it is scarcely possible to make one's way, are occupied in gambling and betting on them, and on the beautiful pigeons here made such an instrument of sin. The character of the neighbourhood may be, known from the appeal made by two poor boys who came on a week day to ask shelter from a blind, Christian woman. They were locked out of their own home (a bird and rabbit shop), for their parents were both out drinking, and they said, "Father and mother keep sober only on Sundays, because there is more business to be done." There, amid many interruptions, the Gospel is preached to those who would never hear it elsewhere. The preaching station on this occasion was in a railway-arch, here the harmonium was placed, and two brethren, who came purposely from a distance, gave the help so much needed; for the strain is great on head, heart, and voice. In the afternoon the spacious floor, well known to many who attend the workers' meetings, is filled by adult classes of women. At the close an address is given, often by a returned missionary, and many among these very poor of the flock bring their offerings, scanty in themselves, but surely much prized in the sight of Him whose love has constrained them; twice over has a precious offering been given to me for the Punrooty Mission—once from the adult classes, and again from the younger Sunday scholars. The adult Sunday-school numbers more than 160 members. A class of working men is held below. The tea hour is one of peculiar interest. Many young men who are engaged in business in the week, and give this day of rest to the business of their King, meet here after having spent the afternoon teaching in various schools. During this meal letters are read from far-off lands, often written by those who had formerly met here, and who have gone from this training to dark places of the earth. Many subjects for prayer are thus brought forward and remembered before the Lord; then the building is again filled to overflowing. An infant class of ninety in one room on the ground floor—when these disperse a Gospel meeting is held in this room,—a class of factory girls in another, while above crowds of children press. But there is much outside work besides, to occupy every helper. Lodging-houses in the thieves' quarters are visited, and services held, and many hundreds are thus reached; and after nine P.M., when the labourers return from their varied spheres, all join once more in praise and prayer, and many walk a long mile and more to reach their own homes, none using any vehicle or train oh the Lord's day.
It is impossible to follow every detail in this continually increasing work, and only brief mention can be made of the goodness of the Lord in having once more preserved the lives of dear ones in Canada, when, in 1875, the Home at Belleville was again destroyed by fire, and again Canadian kindness and hospitality were manifested to the utmost. Each summer's sun had shone upon band after band of young emigrants guided safely across the ocean, through the goodness and mercy of Him, "Who carries the lambs in His bosom," and "Who holdeth the waters in the hollow of His hand." In the labour of watching over these little ones on the voyage, as in every other, the Lord raised up helpers like-minded with those who bore the burden of the work. In May, 1876, the twenty-second party sailed under the care of Mr. Merry and Miss Macpherson, and the following extracts are from her diary:—
"Friday, May 5.—Calm seas, children bright and happy, cloudless skies, weather charming and exhilarating, though cold. Morning spent over our Bibles. Time seemed to fly rapidly while we talked of 'the things concerning the King.' In the afternoon the bracing air and bright skies invited vigorous exercise, and our Birmingham friend and I walked between two and three miles. Faith was our theme of converse. May the result be that we both shall trust our God more than heretofore, for ourselves and our work, and realise increased measure. (Phil. iv. 19) 'My God shall supply all your need.'