An African heathen chief from an inland district was passing a
mission school in Livingstonia. He heard the children singing
their simple parting hymn. He sat down and waited till they came
out. Then he asked the teacher “What were these children doing?”
“Singing a hymn,” she replied.
“What is a hymn?” asked the chief; “it has touched my heart. I
should like the children of my village taught some hymns.”
There has since been a school established in that chief’s
village, and the gospel is reaching the people through the
simple messages carried by the children in song and story.
(3005)
* * * * *
Thirty men, red-eyed and disheveled, lined up before a judge
of the San Francisco police court, says The _Youth’s
Companion_. It was the regular morning company of “drunks
and disorderlies.” Some were old and hardened, others hung
their heads in shame. Just as the momentary disorder attending
the bringing in of the prisoners quieted down, a strange thing
happened. A strong, clear voice from below began singing:
“Last night I lay a-sleeping,
There came a dream so fair.”
Last night! It had been for them all a nightmare or a drunken
stupor. The song was such a contrast to the horrible fact that
no one could fail of the sudden shock at the thought the song
suggested.
“I stood in old Jerusalem,
Beside the temple there.”
The song went on. The judge had paused. He made a quiet inquiry.
A former member of a famous opera company, known all over the
country, was awaiting trial for forgery. It was he who was
singing in his cell.
Meantime the song went on, and every man in the line showed
emotion. One or two dropt on their knees. One boy at the end
of the line, after a desperate effort at self-control, leaned
against the wall, buried his face in his folded arms, and
sobbed, “O mother, mother.”
The sobs cut the very heart of the men who heard, and the song,
still welling its way through the court-room, blended in the
hush. At length one man protested:
“Judge,” said he, “have we got to submit to this? We’re here to
take our punishment, but this--” He, too, began to sob.
It was impossible to proceed with the business of the court, yet
the judge gave no order to stop the song. The police sergeant,
after a surprized effort to keep the men in line, stept back and
waited with the rest. The song moved on to its climax:
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Sing for the night is o’er!
Hosanna in the highest! hosanna for ever-more!”
In an ecstasy of melody the last words rang out, and then there
was a silence.
The judge looked into the faces of the men before him. There
was not one who was not touched by the song; not one in whom
some better impulse was not stirred. He did not call the cases
singly--a kind word of advice, and he dismissed them all. No man
was fined or sentenced to the workhouse that morning. The song
had done more good than punishment could have accomplished.
(3006)