Where Human Drifters May Start Anew

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 12, 5 April 1927, Page 8

Where Human Drifters May Start Anew

AMONG THE “DOWN AND OUTS” Splendid Work of Methodist Mission The sound of a hymn drifts out into the night and is lost in the whirr of the Queen Street traffic. A silence is broken by the stumbling words of a man unaccustomed to speaking. He falters, goes on again. Words fall earnestly, disconnectedly; the speech is that of a simple man, but he is telling a story which is as old as Christianity itself. In the room from which the singing drifts there are perhaps 10 or 50 men. A few are well dressed: a few of them walk the path of the straight, lawful citizen. But it is to the majority one instantly turns. They are human

wreckage, drifting on the stream of life and unable to battle against the tide. They are coarsely clad; ununshaven and unwashed some of them. A few are drunk. Most of them have heard the sullen jangle of keys and the hollow ' echo of clanging doors in the Mount Eden gaol. These men are “members” of the “Down and Out” club. It is Saturday evening. They drift into the room in ones and twos —derelicts from the streets in search of a cup of tea or a bed. It is a sanctuary for them and perhaps the beginning of a new life—a life without fear or hunger or hatred against the conventional order of things. NO ONE REFUSED No one has ever been refused admittance to the “Down and Out” Mission. Its good work goes on at 2 Airedale Street, where the Rev. C. G. Scrimgeour and Mr. F. Williams are labouring to win broken men back to respectability and a desire to live a decent life. For seven years Mr. Williams carried on the work among the “Down and Outs” -with the aid of his wife and a few helpers. Now, under Mr. Scrimgeour, the whole scheme has been amalgamated as the Methodist Central Mission. Mr. Williams has never faltered in his almost hopeless task. He knows what it is to have been “down and out”; for 17 years he drifted on the tide until he found the right path. To-day he is devoting the whole of his life to assist the men who have lost all—respect, pride and the things which make life worth living. When his day’s work was done Mr. Williams would go out into the byways of the city, gathering in homeless, drunken men and inviting them to the Mission hall in Airedale Street. That was seven years ago. He gave them supper, clothing if they wanted it, and arranged for a bed in which to sleep. Sometimes he was able to find work for the workless. NEVER LOSE HEART “No, I never lose heart,” said Mr. Williams, in answer to a question. “A lot of the men will not do anything for themselves, but there is always hope. I have seen many whom one would think were beyond human aid turn out decent men and make a fresh start in life.” To-day Mr. Williams carries on his good work. “Come on, we’ll go up to Williams’s mission,” say the “down and outs” and they turn their stumbling footsteps to where they know there will be peace and quiet and warmth. Seated in the Mission Hall on Saturday evening were between 40 and 50 men. The gaslight showed up the dravra faces. Seated in the front rows were some of the men whom Mr. Williams and his followers had won back from the by-ways and the road of crime. Between the simple hymns which were sung they told of their redemption—told the simple tale of how they had seen the light and the folly of wrong-doing. A POIGNANT SCENE The shuffling of feet on the pavement outside and Mr. Williams would shepherd more wanderers into the warm light of the mission hall More singing and more testimonies of the happiness which had followed when these men had thrown over the old life Prayers which were listened to with bent and reverent head, and then the earnest appeal to follow the straight path. Several hands were raised, and broken voices murmured “I will” to the request. It was a poignant scene and one which left an impression that will last for years. After the meeting there is tea and something to eat, and the night’s work is over. Mr. Williams and Mr. Scrimgeour know that many of those men will be back at the next meeting, for the flesh is weak. But there is always the few who are genuine; they are the men who mean so much in this work of straightening out broken, tangled lives—the men who make good. Some of these men are now holding good positions in all parts of the world. They have never forgotten the “Down and Out” Mission and many of them are actively engaged in helping their fellow-men. MEN WON BACK Seven years ago Mr. Williams picked up a man who was sleeping under a tarpaulin in the Auckland Railway Station yard. He was taken to the mission, given a cup of tea and a bed and listened to the testimonies of others. To-day that man is second engineer on a liner plying between India and England. Another, who had served seven years in gaol, is with the Union Steam Ship Company and is working among the “down and outs” in Wellington.