" How long is it," asked an old Mohammedan woman in Bengal, " since Jesus died for sinful people? Look at me! I am old; I have prayed, I have given alms, I have gone to the holy shrines, I am become as dust with fasting; and all this is useless. Where have you been all this time? "
That cry was echoed from the icy shores of the farthest North-West Territory.
" You have been many moons in this land," said an old Eskimo to the Bishop of Selkirk, " did you know this good news then? Since you were a boy? and your fathers knew? then why did you not come sooner? "
It was heard in the snowy heights of the Andes.
" How is it," asked a Peruvian, " that during all the years of my life I never before heard that Jesus Christ spoke those precious words? "
It was repeated in the white streets of Casablanca.
" Why," cried a Moor to a Bible-seller, " have you not run everywhere with, this Book? Why do so many of my people not know the Jesus whom it proclaims? Shame on you! "
It is the cry from the four winds. How shall we answer it?