GEORGIA.
Dying Scenes—Pressing Work.
REV. J. H. H. SENGSTACKE, WOODVILLE.
A great deal of sickness is all around us and death has been very busy reaping. A few days ago we buried one of our faithful members. Sister Williams sent for me quite early last Monday morning. As soon as I arrived she took hold of my hand and said to her cousin, “Tell him what I have been saying, for I am too weak to converse.” She had spoken the following words: “I want to go and see Jesus. Come, Master, please come quickly. I am willing to go,” etc. As it was some time before I spoke, she said, “Tell Brother Sengstacke to speak quickly. I want to hear his voice once more.” I read and commented on the 22d chapter of Revelation, and offered prayer, after which I folded her hands and laid them on her breast, as I exclaimed with a loud voice, “Sister Williams, I hope we shall meet in heaven!” She tried to speak as she bowed her head, and with a smile upon her face, her spirit took its everlasting flight, “not as the quarry slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust.” Tuesday her funeral took place from our little church, the procession being over a mile long. Wednesday morning an old Baptist woman sent for me quite early to “come quickly.” Arriving at her house I found her in a very low condition. She took hold of my hand as I knelt by her on the floor, and said: “Brother Sengstacke, I want you to take me in your charge. Do look after me and not let me want for prayers and the word of God. I know that my Redeemer lives,” etc. After singing, reading and prayer, I left her in the hands of Jesus. To-day we buried Sister Williams’ baby. This sleeping infant will rest upon a mother’s bosom, as they both lie in one grave.
On account of our growing school I fear that very little pastoral work and preaching can be done this winter, and yet two services a day are necessary: one in the morning for the young converts and members living several miles away, and the other at night for a large body of Christians of other denominations and unconverted people who do not come to us during the day. I am not gifted with words to picture to you the great need of this field and its bright promises of a successful future, provided that it be not neglected. I feel that the American Missionary Association has done a great deal for us, and this encourages me to sacrifice for the good cause. Yet how happy I should be if I had some help, or at least enough salary to employ one of the most advanced scholars to assist me in the day-school.
Our promising mission and Sunday-school at the Five Mile had to be given up, because it was impossible for me to look after so much work. Another denomination has started a mission at that place.
I have to whitewash and try to paint the parsonage, as the church is not able, on account of struggling hard to raise money to paint the inside of the meeting-house, and to pay Brother Markham for some new benches. They have finished paying for the organ and have had the church nicely done up (whitewashed) outside. Our Sunday-night meetings are crowded. Our Sabbath-school and day-school are flourishing.
Last Sunday I received a note which read as follows: “I desire to become a member of this Sabbath-school. I promise to study hard and obey all its rules.” Signed, “Thomas.” In reading out my church notices I remarked, “Here is a note from little Thomas, etc. Yes, Tommy, we are happy to receive you. If little Tom is present he will please stand up.” Imagine my feelings when a big man got up and exclaimed, “Here is your little Tom, sir.” This person was a teacher in the Baptist Sabbath-school, and is a member of that church.