A Voice for the Lone Ones
By Helen M. Wilde
IN imagining our God-given lives, and in asking for the love and blessing that He is duly bestowing upon us—tho we are continually neglecting and grieving the Holy Spirit, yet He is tenderly holding out His hands in pity and in mercy, saying, “Come unto Me”—does it penetrate deep down in the heart, so that we can hear the echoes of voices calling from far Siberia for help? There are many souls there that have been unjustly banished, toiling away their lives from day to day, from sunrise until night. And it must seem an endless night to them as they toil on mid cold and bleakness; for it seems to me the sunlight never penetrates to gladden their hearts as they toil, dragging their chains and ball; for they are never free from their fetters, which wear and cut into their flesh. They can only groan with their pain. If they look up, think you they meet glances of love and sympathy? No, no; there is the lash that is added to their bleeding flesh. O that we could direct their gaze to a living, loving Saviour, that has borne many a stripe, and His tender flesh torn and pierced for them, for you and for me! If we could only tell them so! But dear brothers and sisters, we can pray for them. They are God’s creatures; and as one family, we would not forget our afflicted brothers and sisters. We know that God hears prayer. Those that suffer with Him will reign with Him.