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"If there is a man present, who has gone just as far as he can go, he is the person with whom I want to shake hands." Mr. Childs whispered,

"The man for whom you are looking sits directly in front of the platform."

When the meeting closed I was introduced to this stranger; and asked him if he did not wish to come out and live a Christian life.

"Oh," he replied, "what difference? I have no friends; nobody cares for me."

"You are mistaken," I said, "for the Lord Jesus cares for you; and others care for you too. Unless I had a deep interest in your soul's welfare I certainly would not be here talking with you on this subject." Then, I gave him several passages of Scripture, for he seemed moved to consider the matter carefully. At last he said,

"If I come here to the meeting tomorrow evening and sign the pledge, will you come with me?" To which question I replied,

"Yes, I will be here again; and, although I do not discourage you from signing the pledge, it seems to me that the best pledge you can give is to yield yourself to God. Will you do it?" The next evening he was present; and before the close of the meeting we saw the new light in his eyes and felt the change in his voice.

Kindness in this world will do much to help others, not only to come into the light, but to grow in grace day by day. There are many timid souls whom we jostle morning and evening as we pass them by; but if only the kind word were spoken they might become fully persuaded. For all mission workers everywhere I always have had tender sympathies. God bless them!

Not a few of my hymns have been written after experiences at the New York missions. One in particular has been used far and wide in evangelistic work. As I was addressing a large company of working men one hot August evening, the thought kept forcing itself upon my mind that some mother's boy must be rescued that very night or perhaps not at all. So I requested that, if there was any boy present, who had wandered away from mother's teaching, he would come to the platform at the conclusion of the service. A young man of eighteen came forward and said,

"Did you mean me? I have promised my mother to meet her in heaven; but as I am now living that will be impossible." We prayed for him; he finally arose with a new light in his eyes; and exclaimed triumphantly,

"Now, I can meet mother in heaven; for I have found her God."

A few days before, Mr. Doane had sent me the subject "Rescue the Perishing," and while I sat there that even-ing the line came to me,

"Rescue the perishing, care for the dying."

I could think of nothing else that night. When I arrived it my home I went to work on it at once; and before I retired the entire hymn was ready for a melody. The next day my words were written and forwarded to Mr. Doane, who wrote the beautiful and touching music as it now stands.

In November, 1903, I went to Lynn, Massachusetts, to speak before the Young Men's Christian Association. I told them the incident that led me to write "Rescue the Perishing," as I have just related it. After the meeting a large number of men shook hands with me, and among them was a man, who seemed to be deeply moved. You may imagine my surprise when he said,

"Miss Crosby, I was the boy, who told you more than thirty-five years ago that I had wandered from my mother's God. The evening that you spoke at the mission I sought and found peace, and I have tried to live a consistent Christian life ever since. If we never meet again on earth, we will meet up yonder." As he said this, he raised my hand to his lips; and before I had recovered from my surprise he had gone; and remains to this day a nameless friend, who touched a deep chord of sympathy in my heart. It is these notes of sympathy that vibrate when a voice calls them forth from the dim memories of the past, and the music is celestial.

One evening there was a man in the seat in front of me, and from his singing I judged that he was under conviction Something within prompted me to ask him if he would remain and hear the sermon, and he finally consented to do so. Just before the close of the address I whispered,

"When the invitation is given, will you go to the altar?" For a moment he hesitated, and then asked,

"Will you go with me?" I did go to the altar with him and had the pleasure of seeing him a saved man.

I could give more than one instance where men have been reclaimed, after a long struggle and many attempts at reformation, because someone spoke a kind word to them even at what appeared to be the last moment. I have also known many others who turned away from a meeting simply because the cheering word had not been spoken, nor the helping hand extended.

Never to chide the erring has always been my policy, for I firmly believe that harsh words only serve to harden hearts that might otherwise be softened into repentance.

"Speak not harshly when reproving
Those from duty's path who stray;
If you would reclaim the erring,
Kindness must each action sway.
Speak not harshly to the wayward;
Win their confidence, their love,
They will feel how pure the motive
That has led them to reprove."