Work Among Missions

BY connection with the Bowery Mission dates from 1881. Mr. Childs, then its superintendent, I first knew as a discouraged man out of work, but always found him a true Christian gentleman. He had been compelled to give up an excellent position in Massachusetts because of failing eyesight; and consequently had come to New York to find something to do. We first met on a street car; and I asked him if he was familiar with the Bowery Mission. He said that he was, and the next evening we went down there together, and I introduced him to the Rev. Mr. Rulifson, the superintendent, with the result that he was at once engaged as assistant in the work of rescuing lost men. I frequently attended the evening meetings at the mission; and one evening they asked me to speak, as indeed they often did. During my remarks I said,

“If there is a man present, who has gone just as far as he can go, he is the person with whom I want to shake hands.” Mr. Childs whispered,

“The man for whom you are looking sits directly in front of the platform.”

When the meeting closed I was introduced to this stranger; and asked him if he did not wish to come out and live a Christian life.

“Oh,” he replied, “what difference? I have no friends; nobody cares for me.”

“You are mistaken,” I said, “for the Lord Jesus cares for you; and others care for you too. Unless I had a deep interest in your soul’s welfare I certainly would not be here talking with you on this subject.” Then, I gave him several passages of Scripture, for he seemed moved to consider the matter carefully. At last he said,

“If I come here to the meeting tomorrow evening and sign the pledge, will you come with me?” To which question I replied,

“Yes, I will be here again; and, although I do not discourage you from signing the pledge, it seems to me that the best pledge you can give is to yield yourself to God. Will you do it?” The next evening he was present; and before the close of the meeting we saw the new light in his eyes and felt the change in his voice.

Kindness in this world will do much to help others, not only to come into the light, but to grow in grace day by day. There are many timid souls whom we jostle morning and evening as we pass them by; but if only the kind word were spoken they might become fully persuaded. For all mission workers everywhere I always have had tender sympathies. God bless them!

Not a few of my hymns have been written after experiences at the New York missions. One in particular has been used far and wide in evangelistic work. As I was addressing a large company of working men one hot August evening, the thought kept forcing itself upon

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my mind that some mother’s boy must be rescued that very night or perhaps not at all. So I requested that, if there was any boy present, who had wandered away from mother’s teaching, he would come to the platform at the conclusion of the service. A young man of eighteen came forward and said,

“Did you mean me? I have promised my mother to meet her in heaven; but as I am now living that will be impossible.” We prayed for him; he finally arose with a new light in his eyes; and exclaimed triumphantly,

“Now, I can meet mother in heaven; for I have found her God.”

A few days before, Mr. Doane had sent me the subject “Rescue the Perishing,” and while I sat there that evening the line came to me,

“Rescue the perishing, care for the dying.”

I could think of nothing else that night. When I arrived at my home I went to work on it at once; and before I retired the entire hymn was ready for a melody. The next day my words were written and forwarded to Mr. Doane, who wrote the beautiful and touching music as it now stands.

In November, 1903, I went to Lynn, Massachusetts, to speak before the Young Men’s Christian Association. I told them the incident that led me to write “Rescue the Perishing,” as I have just related it. After the meeting a large number of men shook hands with me, and among them was a man, who seemed to be deeply n;oved. You may imagine my surprise when he said, “Miss Crosby, I was the boy, who told you more than thirty-five years ago that I had wandered from my mother’s God. The evening that you spoke at the mission I sought and found peace, and I have tried to live a consistent Christian life ever since. If we never meet again on earth, we will meet up yonder.” As he said this, he raised my hand to his lips; and before I had recovered from my surprise he had gone; and remains to this day a nameless friend, who touched a deep chord of sympathy in my heart. It is these notes of sympathy that vibrate when a voice calls them forth from the dim memories of the past, and the music is celestial.

One evening there was a man in the seat in front of me, and from his singing I judged that he was under ’ conviction Something within prompted me to ask him if he would remain and hear the sermon, and he finally consented to do so. Just before the close of the address I whispered,

“When the invitation is given, will you go to the altar?” For a moment he hesitated, and then asked,

“Will you go with me?” I did go to the altar with him and had the pleasure of seeing him a saved man.

I could give more than one instance where men have been reclaimed, after a long struggle and many attempts at reformation, because someone spoke a kind word to them even at what appeared to be the last moment. I have also known many others who turned away from a meeting simply because the cheering word had not been spoken, nor the helping hand extended.

Never to chide the erring has always been my policy, for I firmly believe that harsh words only serve to harden hearts that might otherwise be softened into repentance.

“Speak not harshly when reproving

Those from duty’s path who stray;
If you would reclaim the erring,

Kindness must each action sway.
Speak not harshly to the wayward;

Win their confidence, their love,
They will feel how pure the motive

That has led them to reprove.”

The anniversaries at the Bowery Mission were always notable occasions and every convert made a special effort to be present, many of them coming from quite a distance. I was present and made a short address at sixteen of these gatherings; and on each occasion also wrote a hymn. Victor H. Eenke, for so many years their organist, was one of my best friends; and he composed the music to a number of rryhynns. Mrs. Bird, “my singing bird,” as I call her, and the Rev. Mr. Hallimond, at present in charge of the Bowery Mission, with many other faithful sculs, have carried forward the work so nobly commenced nore than thirty years ago.

Jerry McAuley, for rrany years, was ere of the most widely known men in New York. It was in his own mission in Water Street that I first met him; but the story of his life, how he h?d been a thief, a drunkard and a thoroughly desperate man, was familiar to me, and I was deeply interested in him because of the work of grace wrought at his conversion. As a speaker he used simple language, but his manner was so impressive that all men were drawn toward him. He and his faithful wife toiled and planned and sacrificed to give the old Water Street Mission a start. Not long after my first visit with them they were instrumental in founding the Cremorne Mission on West Thirty-second Street; and there I believe I was introduced to Mrs. E. M. Whittemore, the founder of the Door of Hope for unprotected girls.

I was at once wonderfully impressed by the earnestness of this remarkable lady; and I lost no occasion to inquire concerning her work. One of the incidents that she related was regarding a visit to Boston. She was asked to speak at a parlor meeting, and was obliged to decline; but a few days before the time of the gathering she felt prompted to make an extra effort to attend. She had recently received a letter directed to “Mrs. Whittemore, United States of America”; and this was found to have been written by a poor heart-broken father in Ireland in behalf of his wandering daughter whom he supposed to be somewhere in Arrerica.

With the subject of the letter still on her mind, Mrs. Whittemore spoke at the meeting in Ecston. The house proved to be too small for the audience that collected; and so they adjourned to a neighboring church. While she was speaking she noticed two girls standing near the door; and when the meeting was concluded they were introduced to her, and she asked a few questions as to their circumstances. Little by little, it dawned upon her that one of them was the girl referred to in the letter she had received from Ireland; and she gave her the letter her father had written. The poor unfortunate girl nearly fainted when she recognized the handwriting; and as a result of her providential meeting with Mrs. Whitternore, she was also reconciled to the young man who had deserted her. For, in the meanwhile, he too, had been converted and had been brought to the notice of Mrs. Whitternore; who was thus enabled to be the means of helping them to a happy ending of their romance and they returned to their home in Ireland.

It has been my good fortune to know both of the Hadley brothers, who have been such mighty forces for good in the missions of New York. Col. Henry Hadley I met many years before his conversion, which occurerd at the Jerry McAuley Mission. When I first knew him he was a skeptic and was in many ways hostile to the Christian cause, although he was always very kind to everyone. At that time he was a successful lawyer and the editor of a prominent New York paper. I became acquainted with him through a request to write some verses relative to an incident that had recently attracted considerable attention from the public press. As Colonel Hadley gave it to me it was something as follows: A woman had been convicted by one of our city judges and sent to jail. The next morning her little boy came to the judge’s room and stood in silence before the magistrate.

“Well, what can I do for you?” curiously asked the judge.

“Please, sir, let my mother go,” answered the little fellow.

“Who is your mother?” inquired the judge.

“She came here yesterday,” said the toy; and gave her name.

“Oh,” replied the magistrate, “I cannot let that woman go.” But the boy pleaded.

“She is so good to me. She buys my clothes and shoes, and sends me to school; and gees without things herself for me; and — please sir — what am I going to do without her?”

Such argument had more weight than the law. It was irresistible, and the stern judge for once quickly yielded. Brushing the tears from his eyes he called for the prisoner to be brought. Then he gave her a sharp reprimand and let her go home with her boy. The woman threw her arms around her little defender saying, “My boy, your mother will never disgrace you again.”

This was the story that Colonel Henry H. Hadley wished me to put into verse. The story remains, but my poem has been forgotten.

Then Colonel Hadley asked me to write once in every two weeks for his paper.

Once he called for some verses asking me to urge men not to drink intoxicants during business hours; and then a poem pleading with them not to drink for twenty-four hours, as an experiment to see if they could quit the habit; and finally he asked for a piece imploring them not to drink at all. The first two of my poems were condemned by some and praised by others. A few, who believed in talking a whole loaf or no bread at all said that I was openly aiding the cause of intemperance by advising men to do anything short of abstaining at once and forever. But I had confidence enough in Colonel Hadley to trust him not to use these poems in any way which the best citizens might disapprove. Colonel Hadley himself was by no means an abstainer then; but he was trying hard to break the fetters that bound him.

He was a candid man, but, although he had original ideas concerning religion, he never tried to force his views on others. We sometimes disagreed; then he would generally say, “You are all right; perhaps I shall see it as you do some day.” And that glad occasion did indeed finally come through the prayers and efforts of his brother, S. H. Hadley, who had been saved at the Cremorne Mission.

For months prior to Colonel Hadley ’s conversion I did not see him; yet heard from time to time that he was not holding out as well as he wished against evil habits. Later there came a vague rumor that he had started over again. But this news seemed too good to be at once believed, so I waited until I should hear from him direct; for I knew if the report were true he would come to me, sooner or later, and relate all the circumstances that led him to become a Christian. One evening, almost three months later, I heard a ring at the door about nine o’clock, and someone asking, “Is Fanny Crosby up?” I knew his voice and was convinced that he had come to tell me the glad news of his conversion.

“I have something to tell her,” he said,” I have found the Lord.” When I reached the door I exclaimed,

“Bless you, Colonel Hadley, come right upstairs and tell me all about it.” When I asked why he had not called before he said,

“Oh, I wanted to be sure that I would hold out.” Col. Henry Hadley became a great power for God; and during the seventeen years of his Christian life he founded sixty missions, many of which became permanent. I was acquainted with his brother, the late Samuel H. Hadley, for twenty-five years; and it was always a rare pleasure to go down to the old Water Street Mission and see the wonderful work that was being done there for the spread of the Master’s kingdom; but the two brothers have now clasped their hands in glory.

My work among the missions of New York has been largely supplemented, during the last thirty years, by that among the Young Men’s Christian Associations in various cities. Richard C. Morse, a prince among workers, was known to me as early as 1868; and one morning — I think it was in 187 1 — he came to my home before I had eaten my breakfast, and asked,

“What are you going to do today?”

I replied that I had no particular plans and was entirely at his service, if I could do any good. He then told me the sad story of a poor drunkard who had attempted to commit suicide. Mr. Morse had taken the unfortunate man to his own room; had given him some-FANNY CROSBY AS SHE APPEARS WHEN SPEAKING

IN PUBLIC.

^^!*o* thing to eat; and, as he appeared to be more comfortable had now come to me to see what we together could do for his conversion. The man was finally redeemed and afterwards became a minister of the gospel.

That was really my first work among men.’ It antedates the commencement of my labors among missions by three or four years; and it was not until 1880 that I conducted frequent services for the railroad branches of the Christian Association. As I was entering a surface car one afternoon I chanced to step on the conductor’s foot; and I cried,

“O, conductor, I know that I have hurt you, but I did not intend to. Will you please forgive me?” He replied,

“You didn’t hurt me at all; and if you had you made up for it by speaking a kind word.” I believe it was his remark that turned my attention toward the work among railroad men; and it was not long after this that an opportunity came for its commencement. Before the month had passed I was invited to the home of my friend William Rock, who was superintendent of a surface car line in New York. He was in the habit of gathering a few Christian men together on each Sabbath morning to hold a prayer service for the railway employees. Only a few came at first, but finally the little room in the car station was filled with railroad “boys.” Although this was not a permanent organization, Mr. Rock’s little company formed one of the first associations of railroad men in active Christian work.

The following year I met three members of the Railroad Branch of the Y. M. C. A., which had recently been organized at Hoboken. They were Tom Keenan, Jerry George, and James Berwick and these three men, together with Benjamin Locke, formed a quartet of earnest workers in whom I have since been interested. A week after our meeting — which occurred in New York at my photographer’s — they invited me to visit the association at Hoboken. There I met Mr. J. L. B. Sunderlin, then secretary in that city; and now at Albany; and from that date at least twice each year we have held a very pleasant reunion.

Since 1882 I have addressed the men of the Christian Association in various towns and cities; and they have given me such a warm place in their affections that I have been obliged to adopt five or six hundred of them throughout the Eastern States. They, however, in turn have adopted me; and the Hoboken Branch some years ago gave me a beautiful little badge of honorary membership.

The rapid growth of the Y. M. C. A. gratifies my heart, and I am very glad to know that railway officials and other employers are coming to realize more and more that it is to their mutual advantage to encourage this noble work. In witness of the growing sentiment in favor of the Y. M. C. A. I need but refer to the increasing number of buildings that are erected yearly for the accommodation of the young men of all classes, and for their intellectual and moral improvement.

I am glad to be able to quote a stanza from a Christmas poem written for the Railroad Branch of the Young Men’s Christian Association about ten years ago:

“How I would like to shake your hands,

And greet you one by one;
But we are now too far apart,

And this cannot be done.
Yet I can hope, and wish, and pray

That Heaven’s eternal joys
May fall like dew upon your heads,

My noble railroad boys,”