so
terrible that the elder sister has never recovered from the shock of
seeing it. There she sits, they tell me, all day long, crouching on the
floor, mute.

All do not pass like that; some pass very quietly, there are no bands in
their death; and some are innocent children--thank God for the comfort
of that! But it must never be forgotten that the heathen sin against
the light they have; their lives witness against them. They know they
sin, and they fear death. An Indian Christian doctor, practising in one
of our Hindu towns, told me that he could not speak of what he had seen
and heard at the deathbeds of some of his patients.

A girl came in a moment ago, and I told her what I was doing. Then I
showed her the diagram of the Wedge; the great black disc for
heathendom, and the narrow white slit for the converts won. She looked
at it amazed. Then she slowly traced her finger round the disc, and she
pointed to the narrow slit, and her tears came dropping down on it. "Oh,
what must Jesus feel!" she said. "_Oh, what must Jesus feel!_" She is
only a common village girl, she has been a Christian only a year; but it
touched her to the quick to see that great black blot.

I know there are those who care at home, but do all who care, care
deeply enough? Do they feel as Jesus feels? And if they do, are they
giving their own? They are helping to send out others, perhaps; but are
they giving their own?

_Oh, are they truly giving themselves?_ There must be more giving of
ourselves if that wedge is to be widened in the disc. Some who care are
young, and life is all before them, and the question that presses now is
this: Where is that life to be spent? Some are too old to come, but they
have those whom they might send, if only they would strip themselves for
Jesus' sake.

Mothers and fathers, have you sympathy with Jesus? Are you willing to be
lonely for a few brief years, that all through eternal ages He may have
more over whom to rejoice, and you with Him? He may be coming very soon,
and the little interval that remains, holds our last chance certainly to
suffer for His sake, and possibly our last to win jewels for His crown.
Oh, the unworked jewel-mines of heathendom! Oh, the joy His own are
missing if they lose this one last chance!

Sometimes we think that if the need were more clearly seen, something
more would be done. Means would be devised; two or three like-minded
would live together, so as to save expenses, and se