Between the hours of ten and twelve, for many nights, a poor woman might have been seen making her way through the streets of London. A year had passed since her only daughter had left home, and entered service in the great city. There she became acquainted with gay companions, and she was now living a life of open sin. The mother learned that her daughter might be seen every night in a certain part of the town. After many nights of watching, she was about to despair, when she saw a figure closely resembling that of her daughter. She eagerly approached, and was about to stretch out her arms to embrace it, when the light of a lamp showed that it was not her child. In an agony of grief, she exclaimed: “Ah! it is not she! I was looking for my daughter; but, no, you are not my child!” The poor girl burst into tears, saying: “I have no mother. I wish I had; I wish I had someone who would look for me. I wish someone would look for me!”
Alas! there are multitudes who in the bitterness of their souls cry out: “I wish someone would look for me!” Fatherless, motherless, homeless, Christless, they tread their darkened courses, and in the anguish of their stricken spirits cry out: “No man careth for my soul!” Thanks be to God, there is One who is higher than all, whose tender mercies fail not, and who looks with pitying eye on those upon whom others look with hate and scorn. And let us follow the example of Him whose mission here was to seek the ruined, and to save those that are lost. — Christian Herald