Part 7 (1/2)
loves me, e-ven me, loves me, e-ven me.”
sor-row o-ver there; sor-row o-ver there, sing-ing with the blest; sing-ing with the blest.
Refrain. 1st Verse.
(Ill.u.s.tration)
”I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Je-sus loves e-ven me.”
Refrain. 2d Verse.
(Ill.u.s.tration)
”There'll be no more sor-row there, There'll be no more
(Ill.u.s.tration)
sor-row there; In heav-en a-bove, where
(Ill.u.s.tration)
all is love, There'll be no more sor-row there.”
Refrain. 3d Verse.
(Ill.u.s.tration)
”In the sweet bye and bye We shall
(Ill.u.s.tration)
meet on that beau-ti-ful sh.o.r.e; In the sweet bye and
(Ill.u.s.tration)
bye, We shall meet on that beau-ti-ful sh.o.r.e.” ]
This drew the attention of the dancers, causing a temporary halt. One of her companions tried to pacify her and to draw her away, but she resisted and only clung the closer. I forgot the awful surroundings as my heart went out in tenderest pity. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I offered soothing words and inquired if I could help her, if I could comfort her. Presently she said: ”Lady, G.o.d must have sent you here tonight. I'm sober now; I was drunk when you came in. I want to let you know my mother is dead.” How she sobbed! The dancing was resumed, whilst the girl, somewhat recovered, continued her story. ”She only left me a year ago. She was a good Christian, my mother was; and just before she died, she sent everybody out of the room so as to have a talk with me. 'Hazel,' she said, 'You've given me a heap of trouble and anxiety, but I forgive you, dear, I forgive you. Now kiss Mother, and promise to be a better girl. I've been praying many a long day for you, my child. I'm going to leave you. The doctor says I may not see morning. Don't cry, dear. Don't cry.' .... And then she prayed aloud.
'O G.o.d! make my naughty girl a good girl. Save her soul, O G.o.d, and may I some day meet her in heaven. Please, G.o.d. for the dear Savior's sake.
Amen.' ... Just look how I've kept my word! What's your name, lady?”
”You may call me Mother Roberts, dear, and, furthermore, you may come with me and that other lady over there, to our home if you wish.”
Before we left that place, and between dances, a man sitting in drunken stupor on a bench suddenly tilted back his hat, stared at me, and accosted me thus:
”Howdy-do, Mother Roberts.”
”My! who is this that recognizes me in such a den?” I questioned myself. ”Who are you, my man, and where have we met?” I inquired.
Imagine my chagrin at his replying: