September 11, 1853, Benares (Varanasi), Uttar Pradesh, India.
1937, Cawnpore (now Kanpur), Uttar Pradesh, India.
Ellen was the daughter of Reverend Nehemiah Goreh, a Christian convert. Her mother died when she was two months old, and she was adopted first by a Mr. Smailes, an indigo planter, but he lost his property in the 1857 Mutiny. Ellen then was adopted by Reverend W. T. Storrs and was taken to England, where she was educated.
When we came to England for a time, in 1865, we broughtNelliewith us, and were, by the aid of kind friends, able to put her to a good school. When we returned to England, in 1871, she again rejoined us in our English home, and has been to us indeed as a daughter, and a most beloved one, and to our children altogether as a sister. As year by year God’s grace has grown and shone more and more brightly in her, the wish has increased in her heart to go out and work among her own countrywomen; and now that desire has at last been gratified. She left England in October, 1880.
Goreh’s works include:
Listen, listen, English sisters,
Hear an Indian sister’s plea—
Grievous wails, dark ills revealing,
Depths of human woe unsealing,
Borne across the deep blue sea!
We are dying day by day,
With no bright, no cheering ray:
Nought to lighten up our gloom—
Cruel, cruel, is our doom.
Listen, listen, Christian sisters,
Show ye have a Christ-like heart;
Hear us sadly, sadly moaning,
’Neath our load of sorrow groaning,
Writhing ’neath its bitter smart;
With no hope of rest above,
Knowing not a Father’s love;
Your true sympathy we crave,
You can help us, you can save.
Listen, listen, Christian sisters:
Hark! they call, and call again;
Can ye pass them by, unheeding
All their eager, earnest pleading?
Hear ye not their plaintive strain?
Let your tender hearts be moved,
Let your love to Christ be proved:
Not by idle tears alone,
But by noble actions shown.
This is no romantic story,
Not an idle, empty tale;
Not a vain, far-fetched ideal:
No, your sisters’ woes are real.
Let their pleading tones prevail,
As ye prize a Father’s love,
As ye hope for rest above,
As your sins are all forgiven,
As ye have a home in heaven!
Rise, and take the Gospel message,
Bear its tidings far away;
Far away to India’s daughters:
Tell them of the living waters,
Flowing, flowing, day by day,
That they too may drink and live.
Freely have ye, freely give;
Go, disperse the shades of night
With the glorious Gospel light.
Many jewels, rare and precious,
If ye sought them, ye should find,
Deep in heathen darkness hidden.
Ye are by the Master bidden,
If ye know that Master’s mind.
Bidden, did I say? Ah no!
Without bidding ye will go
Forth to seek the lone and lost;
Rise and go, whate’er it cost!
Would ye miss His welcome greeting
When He comes in glory down?
Rather would ye hear Him saying—
As before Him ye are laying
Your bright trophies for His crown—
I accept your gathered spoil,
I have seen your earnest toil;
Faithful ones, well done! well done!
Ye shall shine forth as the sun!
Ellen Lakshmi Goreh, 1883