We have had with us for a time, as our honored guest, Mother Wheaton, the Railroad Prison Evangelist. Like Jesus, the friend of poor sinners, she goes up and down the land in state prisons and homes where mothers' girls are sheltered, down into the coal mines, into the great lumber camps, and on crowded railroad trains, while speeding along, she preaches the everlasting gospel of our Lord and Savior, and gives out tracts. Thus she goes as God's flaming minister, sowing beside all waters, singing and praying poor sin-sick, tempest-tossed souls into the kingdom of God. Do you ask what is the secret of her success? It may be found in the Psalms, 126:6—"She goeth forth weeping," she has a burning love for souls. So you and I, dear reader, if we are to succeed in winning souls, our hearts must be full of love for them. We give Mother Wheaton a warm welcome to this great and wicked city of Chicago and a hearty welcome always to Beulah Home.

Berachah Home for Erring Girls,
2719 Lawton Ave., St. Louis, Mo.

We feel in Berachah Home that we shall not forget Mother Wheaton. She came into the "Home" and our lives just as God was leading us out in rescue work, and as she stood among us in our first "open meeting," we felt, "Here is a strong, brave soldier of the cross." We found hope and encouragement as she spoke to us of His service, and the Spirit witnessed "This is of God," as she sang one of her songs as only Mother Wheaton can sing them. We did not see her again until in the Baltimore Convocation of Prayer, January, 1904, when God again used her to bring Mrs. Chapman and me to God's full thought for us there. She with others laid hands on us, with prayer, setting us apart for the "work whereunto we were called." May God bless her ministry to others, as He has to us in Berachah Home.

Mrs. J. P. Duncan, Mgr.
Mrs. B. G. Chapman, Treas.

THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.

"To the home of his father returning, The prodigal, weary and worn, Is greeted with joy and thanksgiving, As when on his first natal morn; A 'robe' and a 'ring' are his portion, The servants as suppliants bow; He is clad in fine linen and purple, In return for the penitent vow.

"But ah! for the Prodigal Daughter, Who has wandered away from her home; Her feet must still press the dark valley And through the wilderness roam; Alone on the bleak, barren mountains— The mountains so dreary and cold— No hand is outstretched in fond pity To welcome her back to the fold.

"But thanks to the Shepherd, whose mercy Still follows His sheep, tho' they stray; The weakest, and e'en the forsaken He bears in His bosom away; And in the bright mansions of glory Which the blood of His sacrifice won, There is room for the Prodigal Daughter, As well as the Prodigal Son!"

We've a Home for Prodigal Daughters, Our Saviour says gather them in; Will you help rescue these dear ones— Who have fallen in paths of sin? Your girl may be one of the "fallen," And you long to see her return; Oh, there's room for the Prodigal Daughter, As well as the Prodigal Son.

—Horace.