THE STORY OF A PINK ROSE.
ONE day in May, 1891, down in one of the dives of Mulberry Bend, New York, there stood a young girl gazing on a lovely pink rose. Her face was bruised and scarred; a bald spot was visible where a handful of hair had been pulled out during a recent fight. She was one of the worst toughs in all that great city, acquainted with opium, tobacco, whisky, and snuff, diseased in body, lost to all womanly dignity, a human wreck. Attracted by the fragrance of the rose, she intently studied it a moment. Suddenly came the thought of the innocence of her childhood, and the sweet face of her own dear mother. Never spoke a human voice plainer than did the rose. In the midst of the noisy crowd, card-playing, swearing, and drinking, the inward voice said: "You saw how lovely and fragrant that rose was yesterday, and now see it going to decay. You were once as pure and sweet as that rose; now those leaves lying on your hand are your years dropping off one by one, and the blackened center means a hell before you, and you are going down." Deeply stirred and trembling, she said: "Boys, I am going to leave you to-night. I am going to find the lady that gave me the rose yesterday." "Well, Bluey, how are you fixed?" "Well, I'll go without coffee to-night, so you can ride. Here's a nickel; we'll see you on the car like a lady." So Delia, the "Blue-bird," was actually on her way out of the horrible pit of sin and misery. And now, how had the lovely pink rose got down into the slums of Mulberry Bend? Mrs. Whittemore and a few friends had gone down to the "Bend" with a desire to open a door of hope to some sad soul, and had taken the rose, with a prayer that God in some way would make it a blessing. For an hour she and Delia had walked from one foul resort to another, and an intense longing seized her that this dreadful-looking being might be saved and become a trophy of grace, like Jerry McAuley. So, taking the rose from its hiding-place, she gave it to Delia and asked her to come to the Florence Mission. The surprising answer was, "I'll be there." Mrs. Whittemore says: "The conviction grew upon me that she must be saved. The Jesus who was mighty enough to save 'the woman of Samaria' and 'Mary Magdalene' could save even Delia, of Mulberry Bend. For two days I pleaded with God for this poor child of the streets; for is not our God a gracious God and full of compassion, 'slow to anger and plenteous in mercy'? Did not Jesus come 'to preach good tidings unto the meek, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives'? Hallelujah! Delia shall be saved." "On going to the 'Door of Hope' I found the matron waiting with a small parcel in her hand. With curiosity I opened it, and my eyes filled with tears, as with joy I beheld the remnant of the rose given in His name two nights ago." "Going into the back room, I met Delia coming upstairs, and at once such a marvelous love was born in my soul for the girl that my arms were around her in an instant, and I had kissed those bruised cheeks with much tenderness. With a look of astonishment, she drew back a moment; then her whole body shook; and by the trembling lip and tearful eyes that hungrily looked up in return, I felt an entrance had been made in her heart for my blessed Lord. Poor, dear girl! No doubt that first pure kiss for years recalled some dear association of the past; for soon she was sobbing convulsively. The matron and myself knelt by her side, placing our arms around her, and we were both so overcome ourselves that in silence we waited before the Lord in thankfulness for answered prayer. Then I prayed simply, 'O Lord, all this poor child needs is Thy love; help us to love her into loving Thee!' Then we asked her to pray for herself; so she said humbly: 'Now, God, You can make me better; give me a quiet mind, and keep away desires for drugs and liquor and snuff from me, and I will do anything You want me to. God, be merciful to me a sinner.' Then there came a bright look of joy into her eyes, telling of the new-found joy within." "She was at once delivered from all desire for rum, opium, etc., and began to yearn over her old companions in sin." "When three months in the home we started out and began in the very dive where we found her. With much natural shrinking, she descended those steps at my side, and when fairly in the midst of her old comrades, she perceptibly trembled. As I regarded her upturned face, so full of love and tenderness as she spoke, I could hardly believe it possible that she ever could have been there as a member of that gang. In respectful silence every one regarded her. Some had broken noses, black eyes—bad wrecks, going down, down!" "She said: 'Boys, do you think I look like the same girl I did three months ago? Do you think I am proud of the past and come down here to speak of it?' With trembling voice, choked with tears, she proceeded: 'I want to tell you if I could be saved, you can. It is Christ that bore my sin away and made me what I am. "The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all," and what He did for me, He can do for you. "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed." O, look to Him for pardon, eternal life! "He that believeth on Him is not judged; he that believeth not, hath been judged already." Jesus says, "I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins; return unto Me; for I have redeemed thee." O, won't you? won't you?'" "I glanced in tender pity into those upturned faces. They were bruised and battered countenances, indeed, strongly stamped with marks of sin, yet they stood and listened, while the tears coursed down their faces. Some bowed their heads and wept at the story of God's love. It was a sight, down in that dark cellar, to move a heart of stone." "On and on, fearlessly, she spoke, until, quite overcome, she ended with almost a sob, and said, 'Let us pray.' As I knelt beside her, she said, 'And, mother, dear, you pray.' I felt, indeed, like praising God before them all. Kneeling on the dirty sawdust, two hours past midnight, I thanked Jesus for ever crowding the world out of my heart, and giving me far more delight thus bowing before Him, in the midst of all this wretchedness, than I ever experienced in the so-called pleasures of life. That night I realized as never before the value of a soul, and the wonderful love of Jesus in stooping down to save such as they and me." "She addressed fifteen hundred convicts at Auburn Prison. Among other things she said: 'Boys, I can tell you that Jesus will take us, every one, when all others will turn their back upon us. We are not away down all at once; we go on drifting, beginning, perhaps, to drink wine, but I know what it is to crave a three-cent drink of whisky." "'Now, what have you got for this life of serving the devil? I can tell you what I had,—misery, scorn, imprisonment, poverty, rags. At first it may be diamonds, but it soon comes to glass. It may be silks, but we soon find ourselves in rags. What have I got since I started to serve Christ?—I've got forgiveness, eternal life, love, joy, peace, and plenty; and should God call me to-night, I am ready and satisfied to go and be forever with Jesus.'" "Soon her health broke completely down. She awoke one night with a fearful hemorrhage, and for days lay very white and still, but patient and very gentle. She would say, with loving tenderness, 'Mother, dear, don't you cry; if God wants to take me, it's all right, and just think, if He does, I will go rejoicing in nearly one solid year of blessed service; just think of that now!'" "Up and down the stairs of the Door of Hope could be heard the tramp of ex-convicts, thieves, gamblers, and degraded women, coming to hear Delia speak of the love of Jesus and His power to save. Propped up with pillows, the dying girl told them of 'the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, tho He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be rich.' She sang what she called her testimony, 'There is sunshine in my soul to-day.'" "The night she passed away, she sang, with radiant face, 'My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine,' and when her speech was gone, she nodded her head when asked if Jesus was present and real to her soul. Then, folding her hands together, this poor child of the slums breathed her life quietly away,13washed in the blood of the Lamb, to be like Him, and see Him as He is at His coming, and walk with Him in white garments forever!"—Anon.