The days of miraculous achievements are not past, as the accounts chronicled in this book will testify. Four people make a missionary trip from Los Angeles, Cal., down the coast of Mexico, preaching in many of her towns while the ship discharges or loads cargo. They arrive in Nicaragua and preach to the natives, seeing numbers of them baptized in the Holy Spirit. Returning to the States by way of the Panama Canal, and New Orleans, they reach St. Louis and Granite City, having been gone less than two years. Without missionary board, or other promised support whatever, the Lord provided some $3,000.00 for the trip. It is a testimony to His faithfulness, a sample of what He can and will do for those who will put their trust in Him. Some might question the wisdom and value of the shortness of their stay, but they moved under Divine direction. If any possible critic had accompanied them in their journeyings, and seen the fire in the hearts of those native people there would have been no doubt in their minds as to the exceeding profitableness of the journey in the advancement of the kingdom of God. Many remote and scattered people were reached. Praise God! They will be seen in Heaven because of the Gospel message which they heard. Then, too, this sketch of many happenings will, we trust, kindle a flame of missionary fire in many hearts, and give them a sense of the great need of these Central American republics, so that they, too, will have to go, pray, or give. Brother, Sister, have you not some responsibility toward sending the Gospel to those benighted people so long neglected? Let us not share in the great age-long crime of the church in her neglect of the heathen. Do not pass the time in mere happy dreams of spiritual blessings while the procession of your lost brethren of other nations tramps on into eternity with no Christ. Be not like drones, who eat the honey but do nothing for the advancement of the kingdom. Seeley D. Kinne. Photograph of the author Affectionately dedicated to my precious Master, the Lord, who made possible this service, and to my dear husband, son, and daughter, who were noble sharers in the battles and triumphs described. Oh agony of wavering thought When sinners first so near are brought. It is my Maker—dare I stay? My Savior—dare I turn away? In the ripe harvest fields the day is cried, And reapers with their sickles bright Troop, singing, down the mountain side. Photograph of the author and her family |