"Sown in the darkness or sown in the light,
Sown in our weakness or sown in our might,
Gathered in time or eternity,
Sure, ah, sure will the harvest be!"
WHEN Jose Ignaseo was a young man seventeen years of age, an Adventist sister told him of this truth, and taught him the way to Jesus. He did not then accept the message, although he knew it to be true.
Finally the dread disease leprosy was found in him, and two years ago he was sent to the public leper asylum at Mahaica, British Guiana. There in his affliction he turned to God. He began to tell his fellow sufferers of the truth, and soon one after another joined him, until last March we were happy to baptize thirteen beneath the salt waters of Mahaica Creek, where it passes the grounds of the asylum on its way to the sea.
HAD EAGERLY LOOKED FOR THE TIME
For some time, they had eagerly looked forward to this day, seeking to put away sin and all difference, that they might rise to "walk in newness of life." A number of the Georgetown church went down to enjoy the day with us, and a hearty welcome was given us by the little band of believing brethren and the steward of the institution and his family.
The steward showed us about the grounds. There are 384 inmates at present, more men than women always, and more East Indians than natives of the colony. Two large dormitories and thirty-five one-room cottages provide them with a comfortable home. A resident physician gives what medical attention is required. A hospital affords rest for the worst cases, with nurses in attendance. Those less afflicted among the women take turns in private housekeeping for limited times. They have little charcoal pots on which to cook their food, but most of them get their food from the large dining-room. Over thirty acres of land furnishes plots of ground for tillage. Each able man has his plot of land on which to raise produce to sell to the storehouse. Men of various trades are among them. These carry on their craft in shops on the grounds. They make their own clothing, etc.
AT THE BAPTISMAL SERVICE
As soon as the regular Sunday service was closed, we opened our meeting in the chapel. By invitation from one of the officials, my husband spoke. His theme was the new birth, bringing before them the privileges found in being born into the family of God. The best of attention was given, and when announcement was made that the meeting would be concluded at the water side, the congregation hastened thither.
It was a solemn scene. I am sure angels drew near, as beneath that lurid sun we gathered on the rocks and timbers of the breakwater, while the candidates with maimed limbs, some walking, some crawling, made their way to Mr. Boger's side out a little way in the stream.
In a letter received from Brother Ignaseo since our return home he says, "I feel to myself that I am a new man in Jesus." May God keep them all pure and clean in the blood of the Lamb.
An African reclining machila,—a tiresome, expensive means of travel, but the only one where no road exists.
