MY FIRST AUTOHARP--I FORSAKE ALL TO FOLLOW JESUS.
There it lay, all covered with dust, in that auctioneer's window in
Chico. We had just arrived from Sheridan, Sutter County, where we had
conducted a successful series of meetings.
In the latter place we had been able to borrow a small organ, and I had
a splendid choir of little children, who crowded our commodious wagon
an hour each evening before service, that time being devoted to
serenading the neighborhood with gospel song. There I saw the drunkard
and the saloon-keeper yield to the blessed influence of the singing by
these sweet, innocent little children of songs such as "Wash me in the
blood of the Lamb, and I shall be whiter than snow." But the time soon
came when we must part with the little organ as well as with the dear
children.
How I longed and prayed for an autoharp! At this time my pocket-book
was well-nigh empty, my husband having met with total loss in mining
enterprises. I possessed exactly $2.50 on the day when we reached
Chico.
As I looked in that auctioneer's window, somehow I felt that that
humble, little three-barred autoharp was to be mine. I stepped in,
priced it, and presently told the proprietor what use was to be made of
it. He had at the first asked $5.00; now he offered it, _for such a
cause_, at half price. Hallelujah! How gladly I parted with my last
cent and joyfully walked out with my precious little musical
instrument, destined to go with me on my visits to comfort and help
save the lost. I will tell you of my present one later on.
Leaving Chico that afternoon, we camped in the evening under some
beautiful live-oak trees, beside a clear, running creek. This was in
Tehama, Tehama County. There, before retiring, and following our family
devotions, I dedicated my little instrument to the Lord's work, praying
as I did so that he would use it absolutely, together with me and my
voice, in helping to win precious souls for his kingdom.
Soon afterwards I was once more in my Redding home and resuming my
former avocations in the church and Sunday-school. But what had come
over me? what had wrought such a change? For, strange to say, I was no
longer satisfied with simply the church work. I spent evening after
evening and all spare time in the humble little mission down-town or
amongst the outcasts, though never neglecting my home.
My husband, always a reserved, proud man, one day gave me an unexpected
shock. Without forewarning he quietly, coldly informed me that I must
decide between the rescue work and him.
"Do you mean it?" I inquired.
"I certainly do," was his reply.
Oh, how I agonized with my Lord in prayer as soon as I could have the
privilege! Then I opened his Word for comfort, and my answer was, "Ye
are bought with a price; be not ye the servants of men." 1 Cor. 7:23.
What did this mean? I was too young a child of the King to comprehend,
and therefore could only wait and pray. So troubled at heart was I at
my husband's pride and growing coldness that I at last visited the
pastor of the church where my name was enrolled. He tried to persuade
me to refrain from any but church work, and also did his utmost to
effect a reconciliation between my husband and me, but all to no
effect. Mr. Roberts refused to listen, and the breach widened. I seldom
crossed my threshold those days, yet yearned to be out in God's field.
Circumstances, which it is neither pleasant nor profitable to relate
here, soon necessitated the breaking up of my home. I was looking to
God for guidance. I did not have to wait long, for a door was soon
opened. A letter from Sister Belle Trefren, of Sacramento, with whom I
had much correspondence, especially relative to the rescue home already
referred to, now for several months occupied, informed me of the severe
illness of its matron.
"Is it not strange," she wrote, "that in all this great city none come
to her aid excepting for a few hours at a time? If help does not arrive
soon, I fear she will die. Why could not you spend a while with her,
and thus relieve her of this very heavy burden until she is
sufficiently recovered to take her accustomed place again? Besides,
dear Sister Roberts, I have long felt that the Lord wants you to cut
loose from the shore-lines and 'launch out into the deep,' where are to
be found the biggest, best fish. Pray over this, as I am now doing, and
the light will surely come to you."
I prayed, and the light came quickly. I wrote Sister Trefren that I
might soon be looked for in Sacramento, and that I was simply waiting
on the Lord.
I soon resigned my church office, and early one bright, beautiful
morning I bade farewell to Redding. Just before the train drew out of
the depot, I opened my Bible. My eyes were focused on these words (many
friends had gathered to bid me Godspeed): "And let us not be weary in
well-doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." Gal.
6:9. I stood on the rear platform of the train, holding up the open
Bible, and soon Redding and friends disappeared from my vision. I was
indeed and in truth now alone with my Lord and on the road to the
little rescue home in Sacramento, with my precious autoharp lying by my
side.
In the afternoon, as time seemingly dragged and many passengers showed
signs of weariness, I picked up the little instrument. Soon from one
end to the other of the car different ones sang with me familiar song
after song of Zion. The journey ended joyously, some being strengthened
in their faith on that trip, and more than one acquaintance being made
which later ripened into warm Christian friendship. Praise the Lord!