From the Fight by Amy Carmichael
(This book made available by the Internet Archive. The original book also contains content-related pictures.)
(C.E.Z. "KESWICK" MISSIONARY, INDIA), Author of "Sunrise Land," etc. CHURCH OF ENGLAND ZENANA MISSIONARY SOCIETY, 27, Chancery Lane, W.C. MARSHALL BROTHERS, Keswick House, Paternoster Row, E.C. TRANSLATION. " His sacred form is Love, His holy eye is the deep home of Grace, His blessed word, distilling as the dew, Is life's Elixir, truest, purest joy. He looks upon the world of sinful men, And stretches out His hand to beckon them. His hand, so glad to give, so strong to guard, And then, it is as if He said, ' Fear not.' " Why wander weary still ? Why wilfully go sad ? Oh, people come ! Come all ye people, to the succouring feet Of Him Who is alone your own true Lord. 7s your heart iron ? Has it not melted yet ? Oh, turn ye but a little, look to Him Th? renouncing God, Who gave His life for you. And, won by looking, come to Him Who calls And longs that you should live ! " Krishna PillAi, Convert, Scholar, and Poet, Tinnevelley, S. India, Went in to see the King January, 1900.
THIS little book is a piece of patchwork. It is made of bits from the ” Life of Faith,” bits from “India’s Women,” bits from Home Letters, and bits written for itself. Pen patchwork of a truth. This explains its broken and fragmentary character. It is only Bits of Things. But it has been asked for, so it goes as it is.
Out in the Fight, where fighting comes first and writing second, there is no time to write as one ought for that serious thing called Print; but will you ask the Great Captain to use it to make the fight real to some of His soldiers at home ? We need more troops out here. Not one garrison, not one regiment, is anything like full-manned.
These letters do not touch upon the work among the Christians, to which much of our strength is given ; neither do they touch upon life in New India—the India of the Schools. We live in the heart of Old India—it is a dark Old India, very sinful, very needy, needing God.
The dear friend in whose home on the hills these scraps have been strung together, says that she never reads the headings of chapters, and skips all poetry contained therein. In case anyone who reads this inclines to do so, may I say, for once, please do not ! because the chapter headings have something to do with what is inside the chapters—at least they may help to throw light upon the nature of the people of whom the chapters tell. They are like looks in. And the fragments of verse in the last two chapters are meant to be just the same. Look in with eyes anointed with the sympathy of Jesus. Look out again—look upon the fields—