Thank God, in his tender mercy he stretched forth his hand to rescue my poor, lost, helpless soul from the turbulent rapids of sin when I was seventeen years of age. He set me on the solid rock of his truth and gave me the Holy Spirit as an eternal guide and propelling power. He has proved to be a comforter in whom I can safely put my trust when stemming the rising tide of unbelief and doubt.
It is with thanksgiving that I can at the present time recount the divine care of which I have been the object, so far in my pilgrimage through life. I rejoice to be a partaker of the Father's love, which is pure, warm, and changeless. There is an abiding assurance of safety so long as I walk in the path of obedience to his will and trust implicitly in his mighty power to keep my feet while I take steps toward the threshold of heaven. I am grateful, also, for a soul-conviction that the most worthy, most desirable and glorious life is the one that finds its outlet in the glad service of love to God and discovers complete happiness in serving others. A soul without Christ is like an idle straw driven at the mercy of the wind, but the soul redeemed through the blood of Jesus will experience a sweet essence that turns the unfruitful life into a garden of unspeakable delights.
Heathen Customs in China
EXPERIENCE NUMBER 12
To those who have been reared in Christian nations, it is difficult to conceive of the vague ideas of the true worship of the Creator, that are really bred and born into the worshipers of idols. Generation upon generation, for thousands of years, have been taught the same form of worship, or nearly so, until such heathen ideas and doctrines have become just as much a part of their nature as is any other sinful disposition.
Having been a personal observer of a few of their customs, I shall here be mentioning what I have seen, with a prayer that my account may at least help the reader more fully to appreciate the access that every worshiper of the true God has to the bountiful storehouse of blessings provided by our Creator.
For nearly five years I lived a short distance outside a large city in China. Almost as far as we could see in any direction, the hills and valleys were dotted with little mounds. (Some of the valleys, however, were under cultivation.) How came all these little mounds, some round, some long, some large and some small, some carefully covered over with fresh green sod, and others greatly weather-beaten and nearly washed away by the rains of the season? These mysterious little mounds mark the last resting-places of thousands of Chinese. Should the mortal remains in a mound be those of a child, little or no attention is shown it; but should it be those of a father or a mother, the relatives who are left behind do not fail to show great respect and attention to the spirit of the departed one. Should they not render such attention, they believe the spirit has power to inflict upon them great sorrow and adversity.