Mary was the only child of her widowed mother, Mrs. Greene, who had made her the sole object of her affection. Independent and self-willed as the girl was, she chafed under her mother's constant devotedness and restrictions. As early in life as she could, Mary left her mother and her sheltered life to seek her fortune in a large city. She wrote regularly for a time, then gradually left off writing. At last the letters stopped altogether. Mary had fallen into bad company, and was living a life of sin.
The heart-broken mother came to the city to search for her daughter, and, finding a missionary who worked in the slums of the place, she asked him if he could help her. He said he thought he could; but he suggested that she procure a hundred copies of her own photograph, and write under each, "Mary, I love you still; come home.”
He then asked that she allow him to take these photographs into the worst parts of the city. There he would hang them up in the saloons and other places where her daughter might possibly see them. He hoped by so doing to find where she was.
What a hard thing to ask a mother to do! But Mrs. Greene loved her child so much that she would do anything to get her back again. Off to the photographer's she went, and as quickly as possible returned to the missionary with the hundred photographs. He took them, and put them up in the haunts where a fallen girl might come.
Not long afterward, this girl came into a saloon and caught sight of the photo on the wall. Going over to it she recognized at once the familiar face. "My mother," she said to herself; and then she read the words underneath: "Mary, I love you still; come home.”
This was more than Mary could stand. She went out of the place at once, and made straight for home. She found her mother waiting to receive her, and there in her mother's arms received the kiss of forgiveness. That photo and those loving words did it.
Friend, the Lord Jesus Christ, our "Good Samaritan," came down from the heights of glory into the depths of woe. He came where we were—poor, lost, ruined sinners—and there He died for us.
“Oh, `twas love, `twas wondrous love,
The love of God for me;
It brought my Savior from above
To die on Calvary.”
May God open your eyes, dear wandering one, to see Him waiting and to hear Him say, "I love you still; come home." Because of the death of Christ for you, He now stands with arms outstretched waiting to receive and forgive you this very moment.
Will you come?