The Stundist in Siberian Exile AND OTHER POEMS, William Fetler, 1922

Where shackled men with pale and morbid faces Were driven till they died in exile places,— Songs of the Free will cheerfully resound. The land of curse will soon be holy ground ! Oh, how they wept, those women tender-hearted. At sight of sons and husbands as they parted ! Clank! clank! ... it sounded as they went their way— What change of sound as they return to-day! Siberia ! thou land of sin and shame, May glorious in future be thy name ! September 9, 1912. 87 88 THE CRY OF RUSSIA THE CRY OF RUSSIA Will you listen to the cry of Russia ? Will you hearken as their children weep ? They are hungry, but the fields are barren ! They are thirsty, and the well is deep ! Yea ! anddeep in sin their soul is sunken, Miry clay foundation for their feet. Ages came and went, but no glad footsteps; No one came whose heart would warmer beat. And they suffered, till their chains grew rusty. And they waited till their eyes grew dim; When for life, in very death despairing. Of a sudden they were told of Him :— He who suffered long before, and for them— He who waited long for their return. And as Russia’s children heard their Shepherd’s story. How they wept for joy, how hearts within did bum 1 And they clung to Him as loving child to mother. And again to suffer they began. Now, however, smiling in their exile. And in chains, they praised the Son of Man. PREACHER IN CHAINS THE CRY OF RUSSIA 89 Chains at last are broken, distant exile places By the Cross are changed to Christian homes. And the Word is preached throughout the mighty empire. Both peasant huts, and in the princely domes. They are waiting, Russia’s millions, waiting— Only few are freed by Christ as yet. Who will go, and who will help the going ? Hasten then, before the sun is set! 1912. go A RUSSIAN MISSIONARY’S LONGINGS A RUSSIAN MISSIONARY’S LONGINGS Send me back where I am needed. To my people poor and sad; Where Thy message will be heeded By the weak and by the bad. Send me, for I here am lonely. Stranger in a foreign land ; I am going, Jesus ! Only Hold me by Thy guiding hand ! I have seen your thriving cities, I have walked along your streets; I have heard your homely ditties And have tasted all your sweets. But my heart is longing, longing, Where is heard my native speech, Where the hungry crowds are thronging Just to hear us simply preach. And to preach—that is my calling : Woe to me if I forget. When the need is so appalling. And the crowds are waiting yet! A RUSSIAN MISSIONARY’S LONGINGS 91 Let me go ! Oh, do not hold me ! They are dying—can I stay ? I must go, for He has called me. And I must my Lord obey ! Philadelphia, U.S.A., November 6, 1919. EPILOGUE 93 EPILOGUE MEMORIES OF MY CHILDHOOD: EASTER IN RUSSIA By BARBARA FETLER When the spring winds begin to blow and the trees begin to bud, when the whole of natu