Missionary Training Institute - Missionarian Yearbook (Nyack, NY)

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wget gi 1290 ll THE ISLANDS 0 I O CHRISTIS HERITAGE . g 3 Q Q I., Go ye therefore into the high- ways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage. MATT. 22:9 My righteousness is near,- my salvation is gone forth, and mine arms shall judge the peopleg the isles shall wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust. IsA. 51:5 ll The world says, 'stay The cost is dear- And there is much to fear.' But Jesus whispers, 'go my child, For I am near.' I Lord, send me, O send me forth I pray The need is great, Thy call I will obey: Thy love compels rne, I must go- I'm ready, willing, longing to go, I44

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W e look for light, but behold obscurityg for salvation, but it B 0.52 is lar from us. . Q ISAIAH 59:9 81 11 Jll T G GV will llll! 6 an , .1 ISLAND WORLD 'WE LOOK for light, but behold obscurity, for salvation, but it is far from us.' The Island World steeped in its cannibalism, head hunting, and barbarianism, is waiting for salvation. lt is groping for light. Today there is an open door inviting messengers of light, tomorrow may find it closed. For generations the head-hunting Dyack of Borneo has been seek- ing for light, searching for spiritual fuel to set ablaze the wick of superstition and ignorance within his heart. A recent cablegram from the Apo Kayan region of Borneo states that the Dyacks have abolished fetish worshipping, and there is expected a great turning to Christianity. Are we ready to give Christ to them? 'God will not look us over for medals, degrees or diplomas, but for scars.' I We may have five, ten, fifteen years-and yet we may only have a few months. 'Earth's long night is almost over-Christ is coming soon.' Their eternal destiny lies with you ! BETTY JEAN SPI'l'l'LER Congress of Bands Speaker 143

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THE tom-toms thumped on all night, darkness shuddered round likea living, feeling thing. I could not sleep, so lay awake and I saw, and it seemed like this: l stood on a grassy sward. At my feet a precipice broke sheer-down into infinite space. I looked, but saw no bottom, only cloud shapes,'black, furiously coiled, and unfathomable depths. People were flowing from all quarters. All were stone blindp heading straight for the precipice. There were shrieks as they fell, and helpless arms clutching at empty air. Some fell without a sound. Then l wondered why no one stopped them. I could not. l was glued to the ground. I strained to call, only a whisper would come. l saw along the edge sentries at intervals, but there were wide, unguarded gaps between, and over these the blind fell, unwarned, and the green grass seemed blood-red, and the gulf yawned like the mouth of hell. A group of people under some trees sat with backs turned toward the gulf making daisy chains. Piercing shrieks cutting the quiet 'air disturbed them. They thought it a vulgar noise. If one started up to help, the others would pull that one down. Why get excited about it? Wait for a definite call. You haven't finished your daisy chains. lt would be selfish to leave us to finish the work. Once a girl stood waving the people back. Her mother called reminding her that her furlough was due and that she had to rest. No one was sent to guard her gap. Over the people fell, like a waterfall of souls. A child caught a tuft of grass that grew at the very brink of the gulf, it clung convulsively and called, but nobody heard. The roots gave way, with a cry the child went over, its little hands holding tight the torn-off bunch of grass. The girl who longed to be in her gap heard the little one cry, and wanted to go, but relatives reproved her, saying that the gap would be taken care of, and they sang a hymn. Through the hymn came another sound like the pain of a million broken hearts wrung out in one full drop, one sob, and a horror of great darkness was upon ME, for I knew what it was-the cry of blood. The Lord thundered, And l sought for a rnan that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap, but l found none. I lFrom Amy W. Carmichael's Things As They Are l