139
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
March 1930
over-night bag with her and she had filled it full with Gospels of John. She had hoped for a chance like this. “ Let me give them this written Word since they like the words I ’ve just sung— it will help them, and you !” “ Go to it! I’ll begin by taking one. Come on, men.” And so the little red Books, with their message of eternal life for all who believe, found their place. The men took them and one or two said, “ Stuff my mother taught me!” Old memories were revived, and one man said, “ Huh! Nearer, my God, to Thee, stuff!” But Althea turned the sneer into a victory as she immediately began: “Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee, E’en tho’ it be a cross That raiseth me, Still—” . The trusty joined in, and a man at the table abruptly joined the group behind the bars as the whole tank-fuil of unhappy ones swelled the grand old chorus:
“ Give them an old ballad— some old song,” he hastily instructed her. She spoke a word to her accompanist and then by some strange fatal perversity sang the very song of all others that she should have left unsung— “ Home, Sweet Home.” The song that only the honied ones can bear to sing; the song that the soldiers going overseas begged the entertainers never on any account to let them hear; the song that under these circumstances was a cruelty to the poor creatures there. Head after head went down, among the younger men. Some of the older ones glared angrily; others looked stonily at the performer as the familiar words rang out: Althea felt the tears coursing down hen cheeks. She brushed them hastily away and her face burned indig nantly as the Cheerio Crew hastily struck up “ The Swanee River” on their banjo-ukes. It was the first thing that came to them, they explained later, and they had for gotten that the chorus said: All my heart am sad and weary Everywhere I roam. “ Say!” A trusty was standing at Althea’s elbow. “ What are your folks tryin’ to do? Precipitate a riot? We’ve had trouble here lately and this don’t look good.” “ I’ll sing them something that will help, if they’ll let me,” said Althea to him, The trusty walked over to the Cheerio Crew’s leader, —a stout, rather pompous individual. “ This lady here’s goin’ to sing by request,” he an nounced brusquely. The leader raised his eyebrows slightly. He had been warned o f Althea. “Who will accompany her?” he inquired coldly. “ If you will loan me a uke, I can play for myself,” Althea put in. One of the Cheerio Crew immediately gave her his instrument and then wondered why the leader frowned upon him. Althea had been remembering an old Welsh hymn with a strange minor melody ever since she came. She began, in her rich mezzo-soprano: “There’s no place like home, There’s no place like home.” . The men were looking listlessly off into nowhere, many of them! Two or three at the back of the “ tank” began restlessly pacing up and down. “ I will arise and go to Jesus,” said the chorus. Would they heed it? At the end of the song a man by the bars said to the trusty, “ That’s what we need—tell the lady to sing some more.” Song after song poured from the girl’s heart as she faced these needy ones who had suffered such shipwreck morally and spiritually. Althea never thought of the indignant leader. She felt that the trusty would manage him for her, and her whole soul was stirred as she per ceived the despair, and the sin, and the want, that only the wounded One who bore our sins in His own body on the tree, could help or cure. “To tell the old, old story Of Jesus and His love!” How dear and true the young voice rang out! “ Say, lady, I believe you’re singing what’s true!” It was the trusty beside her again. Althea had brought her “ Come, ye sinners poor and needy, Weak and wounded, sick and sore, Jesus ready stands to save you, Full pf pity, love and power.”
- “ Still all my song shall be Nearer, my God, to Thee.”
The Cheerio Crew cleared their throats—this, in their vernacular, was “a knock-out,”—-no one in jail visitation had ever had such success. And somehow they did not mind.
“Tho’ like a wanderer, the sun gone down, Darkness be over me, my rest a stone, Still—”
Y e s ! Their rest was indeed a stone, in the darkness o f life, but He who hung between two thieves and died a criminal’s death, was with them if, they would have Him.” “Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee.” “ God bless you, sister! I ’ll be another man for this!” It was the trusty.. “ Say, fella,” he continued to the Cheerio Crew leader, “ this lady pulled us out of a bad hole today! I know the signs! These boys were ready for some break.” Another night letter sped south:— “ Althea captured the jail meeting with Gospel music. What shall I do?” Brief was the reply :-7-“ Send her home.” “ And so,” said Althea to herself as she snuggled under the warm blankets of her Pullman, “ the Thin Red Line were right! God has brought me back to them.” a » The Vom Bruch Evangelistic Party T HE HARRY VOM BRUCH Evangelistic Party closed a highly successful series of meetings on Sun day night, January 26, at the First Brethren Church, Long Beach, Dr. L. S. Bauman, •pastor. The clear searching Scriptural messages of the evan gelist, backed by the prayers of a faithful pastor and peo ple, resulted in real conviction for sin, and nearly two hundred persons accepted Christ as Saviour during the meetings, while scores of. young people entered the life o f “ Surrendering to Christ.” Mr. McDonald’s leadership of the choir, congregation and orchestra, with his welf-phpsen and well-sung solos, added greatly to the helpfulness of the meetings. Mr. Vom Bruch’s conduct of revival meetings is totally free from objectionable methods. Every service was marked by the simple exposition of God’s Word, followed by a direct appeal to every hearer to receive the Word, decide for Christ, and make the decision known.
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