One scorching day in Africa, a traveler was trudging wearily up a dusty mountain path that finally led beneath a deep ledge over which a little waterfall was trickling.
More than eighty years ago—when the horizon of many African people extended not much further than their villages and was limited by the illusions of many gods—sickness, sin, suffering, inhumanity, death—the universal love of one great woman inspired her to write, "From the interior of Africa to the utmost parts of the earth, the sick and the heavenly homesick or hungry hearts are calling on me for help, and I am helping them.
