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T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
May, 1938
Junior King's Business By MARTHA S. HOOKER
GOD ANSWERS PRAYER IN INDIA B y D r . M aud A llen *
I am going to tell you a story today about a dear little baby in our hospital in far-away India. This baby was a fat little boy, and he belonged to a Christian mother, one of the women of India. If you have a baby in your home, you will under stand how very much this little boy was loved by his Indian mother. A t last the day came when the mother and the baby were to leave our hospital where the baby had been born. They were to go to their home in a town fifteen miles away. The mother rose early to pack and be ready when her husband should come. In the midst of the packing and preparation to leave, she laid the baby down on a cot on the veranda and wenj, to wash her face. But when she came back, the dear baby was gone! Soon we noticed that some one else was m iss in g—a M o h am m e d a n w om an patient who had no baby of her own and who had been admiring this baby. The news about the stolen baby spread quickly. The poor mother’s heart was broken. What could we do? How were we ever going to find the woman and the precious baby? Moham medan women, you know, all look alike when they go out on the street. They cover themselves with a big sheet, and show only one eye. You cannot recognize a woman from one eye, can you? Neither can you tell whether or not she has a baby under the sheet, and it is the rule in India that no man would be allowed to investigate. W e sent word to the Superintendent of Police. W e sent Christian men to the city and to the station. But these hurried efforts all seemed absolutely hopeless. But we knew there was something we could do— and that was to pray to our heavenly Father about the baby. The workers in the district were having a summer school at that very time: so when they heard about the baby, they gathered together to pray. And this is what they prayed: “ O God, bring back our baby.” They kept on praying for some time. Meanwhile, I went over to the hospital to begin my work of caring for the patients. It was the rule in the ward that no patient was to leave the ward while I was writing the charts, because of the noise it would make. However, one patient quietly tiptoed out, and since she made no sound, I said nothing.' She * Thirty-nine years a. medical mis sionary in India under the Presby terian Board.
bought some sweets to distribute to her neighbors in the village, because she planned to claim the baby as her own. Fearing the one who had taken the baby might escape, the k in d M o h am m e d a n woman screamed, and a policeman came hurrying and asked, “What is the trouble?” O f course the kind Mohammedan woman told the whole story quickly. When the policeman heard it, he took charge of the woman who had taken the baby, and he brought her into the mission compound. There the baby’s own mother quickly claimed him. What a crowd of people col lected to see what it was all about, and how happy the real mother was to have her own baby in her arms again! The mother and father of the little one refused to try to have the police punish the woman who had stolen their baby. They said, “ Poor thing! She did not have a baby, and God has heard our prayers. W e don’t want her punished.” I invited them all into the waiting room of the hospital, and there we thanked God for answered prayer. W e knew that it was He who had led the woman to hunt for the baby at just the right moment.
afterwards told me that she had to go, as it seemed to her that a voice was telling her that the woman with the baby was coming down the road past the hospital gate. She, too, was a Mohammedan, but she sympa thized with the Christian mother. When she reached the gate and looked down the road, what do you think she saw? Why, at that very time a Mohammedan woman was coming down the road covered with her big sheet! The woman who was hunting for the baby went right down the road to meet her, and, looking at her from behind her own sheet through the small “ eye window,” she said, “ You have stolen the baby.” But the woman denied it. Then the Mohammedan woman from my hospital ward did a daring thing— she pulled back the sheet, and right there was the precious baby boy! But the baby’s hair had been oiled and its eyes had been blackened. The woman who had stolen him had gone to the Bazaar to have this done. She had also
The Morning Prayer "Mother, what has been the matter, with this day? It has been the long est day of my life, and such a very crooked one.” “ It is very easy for me to see where the fault lies. Can’t you see it, too?” “ I know, Mother, that I was very naughty to read that book when you told me not to,” Abby answered meekly. “M y darling, did you ask your heavenly Father to forgive your dis obedience to me ? Did you tell the Lord Jesus this morning that you love Him? Did you ask to be helped through the day?” Abby hung her head, and con fessed that she had been in such a hurry to get to breakfast that she had forgotten the prayer. Yes, there is reason enough for a “ crooked” day! Boys and girls as well as all grown-up people who love God have to ask for help very, very often. And each one needs to remember that the dear Saviour listens to the little children when they call upon Him who died for them. Abby has lived a good many years since she had that talk with her mother, and she still finds she must not forget her morning prayer. — S elected .
The Taj Mahal at Agra, India, Which Many People Say Is the Most Beautiful Building in the World
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