AN APPEAL FOR THE INDIANS.
By Editor
THE following from the American Missionary for April, 1894, written by Miss Mary C. Collins, of Grand River, N. D., to the people who support her, presents so earnest a plea for the Indians, and shows how fully the Lord has prepared the way, that we print it for our readers:— Was there ever such a time in the history of our church—ever such an opportunity? It seems to me that the Lord is saying to us: “You have prayed for open doors, prayed that the Holy Spirit should enter the heathen heart and make the man cry out, ‘What shall I do to be saved?’ I have done my part. The heathen are aroused. They are begging, pleading, praying for the good news of a risen Saviour, and you heed not their calls. I have rolled away the stone.” Oh, if I could speak with half the earnestness which I feel in my own heart, I know the churches would respond! I could give instance after instance where men have come asking for teachers and for the Bible, and where I have had to say, “We cannot send a teacher; we have no money to pay a salary, no money to build a house.” Is it easy to say this? Try it once and see if those great sad eyes will not haunt you? Try it once and see if the disappointed face will not visit you in the dark hours, when you are tossing, restless and wakeful, upon your bed at night, trying to plan how you can economize your own strength so as to add one more burden. O my friends, I am in earnest. Can it mean the same to you when you read of the increasing debt of the American Missionary Association as it does to us? Can you stare the future in the face with the same agony of soul as we do who are continually refusing the bread of life to these hungry souls? Oh, come to our aid! When we heard the voice of Jesus say, “Go ye,” we started out, not knowing where we should be led. All the way we have been blessed in the sowing of the seed beyond our expectation. The history of the work at Standing Rock Agency in the last few years is without parallel in the history of our Indian missions. Grand River, from its mouth to its source, has surrendered to Christ. Riding up and down you see little flags hoisted over a cabin, and at once you may know that in that cabin is being held a prayer meeting, often led by a young man or a young woman who can read the Bible, assisted by someone who can talk or pray. And so, in blindness, with just a ray of the true light which enlightens every man's darkness, they are stumbling on, falling and rising. Oh, how these little ones need a firm, guiding hand! And yet we must say no when men come—men singly, men in groups. Men with their wives come and say, “One thing we have come for; we have been in the dark, and now the light is dawning and we are realizing our condition, we want a Bible teacher.” Thunder-hawk, who has been refused a whole year now, and who has himself tried to raise a little money to help us, is almost losing courage. I would you could have had your ears unstopped and your hearts opened the other night when an old man, partly in native dress and partly in civilized clothes, came to me. His name is White Ghost. After asking for medicine for his son he said, “Winona, is Thunder-hawk going to have a teacher?” I explained to him the lack of money as well as I could. But of course he has so often heard of the wealth of the East, he could not understand it. “Oh,” said he, “Thunder-hawk is my relative! It is his desire to see one of your churches established among his people. He has not been well for a long time, and he wants to see this before he dies, and because it is not done he carries a sad heart all the time. I hope you will hear his prayer and the prayer of his people. I do not ask it for myself; I am an old dog, blind and sick; I shall die as I am and be thrown away on the hills; I do not know God nor his word. I have heard that God is merciful and gentle, and if that is true, that is what the Dakotas need. I ask nothing for myself, but I want very much to have you send a Bible teacher to Uncle Thunder-hawk.” Can anything wear on a missionary's health and strength and whole nervous system as these things do? Facing blizzards is nothing to it. I would rather face a blizzard all day than have to say no once to such a call. God is true to us. He never fails us. Are the Christians going to fail us? A few thousand dollars might have saved the last outbreak. Sitting Bull had repeatedly asked for a teacher, just as Thunder-hawk is now asking, and we said no once too often, and so he died as he was, a heathen. Our work grows so rapidly that we are appalled at the responsibility. If ever I have felt like a coward since I have been among the Indians, it is now. Shall I desert? Shall I run away from these appeals? It requires a great deal of strength to face these men. To-day our beloved David, the deacon of our church, came, in his gentle way, and said, in a quiet, low, musical voice: “Winona, I have come to consider our work with you. They say they need a teacher at Flying-by village, and they are anxious that we should send one immediately; and I also hear that on the Cannon Ball they want another teacher. Thunder-hawk must have one, and I have thought the matter over. I am a policeman, but if you want to send me I will go to one of these places and try to teach them.” Imagine what it is costing of heart life to say: “David, you are a good and trustworthy man. I have long prayed that you might devote yourself to the saving of your people; but a teacher must live a little better than the people379around him in order to be able to help them. You have a small salary as a policeman, and you will be obliged to remain a policeman for a while. Our churches have no money now and cannot help us.” The sad, astonished look that such men give us at these views makes us feel ashamed and disheartened. How long must it continue? How long must we wait?