A LETTER FROM INDIA by Iva I. Cauble

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Apr 27, 1904

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 30, No. 17.

A LETTER FROM INDIA.

By Iva I. Cauble

[Iva I. Cauble, in Pentecost Herald.]

THIS finds me in darkened India, surrounded by heathenism and superstition, but the Lord is near us here, as He was in the homeland. I can't realize I'm so far away; I haven't had one longing for home, or one moment of dissatisfaction since I came. Thank God!

Nature unfolds her beauties here; tropical plants, fruit trees loaded with delicious fruit, and some of the most beautiful flowers send forth their beauty and fragrance on every hand. The most beautiful sunrise and sunset that nature can afford, meet our eyes every morning and evening, and the southern cross can be seen every morning before daybreak. Many times I am reminded of the poem, "Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile."

It is not all flowers and sunshine. As we come in contact with the people, and realize their need, it makes our hearts groan. One evening, while walking down to the bazaar, we met some priests besmeared with ashes and with some of the most hideous-looking marks on their foreheads. I asked my friend why they did that. She answered, saying, "O, that is one of their religious duties." We also passed a temple; they were ringing bells, beating drums, and making a lot of noise. Of course I was inquisitive enough to ask what they were doing; I found out they were ringing those bells to put their gods to sleep. Their gods are numerous; I wondered how they could tell when all of them were asleep.

Words are too weak to express the darkness and wickedness we gaze upon, but "thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift." "Where sin abounds, grace doth much more abound." There are hungry hearts all around us. We go to the villages and hold meetings among the natives; they gather around and listen so attentively to the story of Jesus and His love.

Another sight we see is the lepers; we have the blessed privilege of working among them. The first time I saw them it seemed my heart would break. Some have their toes and fingers eaten off; and some, their faces are disfigured by the dreadful disease. India needs salvation. Remember these poor, be-nighted ones at the throne of mercy.