Like us, they pour out the best affections of early youth on a beloved object.

Like us, they have clasped their children to their hearts in devoted love.

Like us, too, they have wept as they laid them in the quiet earth.
But they must fiercely grapple with trials which we have never conceived.

Winter after winter passes, and they perish from disease, and murder, and famine.
There is a way to relieve them--would you know it?
Assist the missionaries who are giving their lives to them and God.

Send them money, that they may clothe the feeble infant, and feed its starving mother.
Send them money, that they may supply the wants of those who are sent to school, and thus encourage others to attend.
As the day of these forgotten ones is passing away, so is ours.