“A short time ago, about twelve o’clock one frosty Sa­tur­day night, when the keen win­ter wind was driv­ing all in­doors who had a home, a poor wo­man, in ut­ter mis­ery and des­pair, was pac­ing up and down along the Thames,” writes a friend in Eng­land. “She had wan­dered in­to a mis­sion hall dur­ing the ev­en­ing and had rest­less­ly come out, car­ry­ing no re­mem­brance of an­y­thing that had been said; but these lines from a hymn still sound­ed in her ears: ‘I’ve wan­dered far away o’er mount­ains cold’…

“She cried aloud: ’But there is no de­liv­er­er for me.’ Very soon she was met by some Christ­ian work­ers, who were spend­ing the night in seek­ing to ga­ther in such out­casts as she. They took her to a home. The hu­man ten­der­ness re­vealed to her the di­vine love. If strang­ers had thus re­ceived her and cared for her, would not her Heav­en­ly Fa­ther, whose love she had heard of, take her? Thus she was led to the feet of Je­sus, and to find that her sins were ma­ny and all for­giv­en. She said, ‘Things since then have been up and down with me, but I have nev­er lost the peace I found that morn­ing.’”