I TOLD you in the last chapter how my new occupation of teaching brought me into touch with quite a number of blind friends, and I think you would like to hear about a dear old man who used to attend one of the classes in which I taught, but who, not very long ago, passed away from earth to be with the Savior he loved and trusted.
Teddie Gill and I were always good friends, the real bond of our friendship being, I believe, that we both loved the Lord Jesus. The son of a noted prizefighter, his up-bringing had been a very rough and hard one. When quite a little fellow, not more than seven or eight years of age, his father would take him into public-houses where, for the amusement of men who ought to have known better than to encourage such cruel sport, he was set to fight with other small boys, drink being freely given to the one who came off conqueror. There is little wonder that, with such a training, he soon became a noted fighting and sporting man, and was not a little proud of being known as "the Whitechapel Pugilist." He was, however, the slave of strong drink, and when fighting in a state of intoxication, lost an eye, and afterward became quite blind. Soon after he was induced to attend one of the East London classes for the adult blind. There he heard, perhaps for the first time in his life, the story of a Savior's love. Sorrow and shame filled his heart as his wasted life seemed to pass before him. How he longed to know that all was forgiven, but for some time he thought himself too great a sinner to come to Jesus, till encouraged by His word, "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out" (John 6:3737All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. (John 6:37)), he very simply believed and was saved. He loved to speak of himself as "a brand plucked from the burning," and always seemed to have a deep sense of the grace that had sought and found him, a sinner of the deepest dye.
No one who knew Teddie Gill ever doubted the reality of his conversion. For him "old things had passed away," he was a "new creature [creation] in Christ Jesus," He was a new man, living a new life. Among his old companions he became an earnest worker for Christ, begging them to give up the drink, but not to stop there, but decide for Christ. He was always ready when opportunity was afforded to tell others of his own precious Savior, his very face, I have been told, seeming aglow with the holy joy that filled his soul. He was fond of singing, and greatly enjoyed taking part in gospel hymns and choruses. He fell asleep at a good old age, and though his bright face and cheery voice were missed by many, we love to think of him where he is, safe home with the One who loved and died for him, or as he would have said, "Safe in port.”
“Where all the ship's company meet,
Who sailed with the Savior beneath;
With rapture and gladness each other they'll greet,
And triumph o'er sorrow and death.”
But Teddie Gill was far from being the only friend with whom my connection with these classes brought me into happy, helpful touch. I shall always have a kindly recollection of a Mr. West, who was, though more than commonly afflicted, for, in addition to blindness, having lost both legs, and being unable to move from place to place, a cheerful, consistent Christian. I almost seem to hear some young friend say, "But as Mr. West was so helpless, how were you able to meet him at the classes? I should not have thought he would ever have left his own home.”
I can hardly wonder at your surprise, and it is quite likely I might never have known him, had it not been for the unselfish, patient devotion of his wife, who never seemed to get tired of waiting upon and caring for her afflicted husband. Week after week she brought him to the class in a Bath-chair, which, with its occupant, was always placed in one corner of the room, where it became quite a gathering-spot for many of our blind friends, who loved to cluster round him, to get one of the warm, friendly handshakes he was always ready to give; he had often, too, a word of cheer for the sorrowful. I remember a message he once asked me to take a friend who had sent him some flowers, but was passing through somewhat trying circumstances. It was only a line of a hymn we often sang at the class,
“God will take care of you; yes, to the end;”
but it proved a word in season, and was often gratefully recalled.
As I do not think the valued superintendent of the classes, Mr. William Mead, is likely to be offended if I include him in my list of friends, I should like, before closing this part of my story, to tell you a little about him and his work. Converted when quite a young man, not more than twenty years of age, only a few months later he became suddenly blind. At first the total loss of sight seemed like a crushing blow, closing doors of usefulness he had hoped to enter, and writing death upon his hopes and plans for life.
But he was soon enabled to take his affliction as from a Father's loving hand. He had longed to serve the One of whom through grace he could say, "The Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me," and it was not very long before he was sent into "fields white unto harvest." For upwards of forty years he has worked among the blind of London, not only in holding meetings, but in visiting them at their homes and in more ways than I can tell you of proving himself a true friend to great numbers of his fellow sufferers.
One of his many visits was paid to a blind woman, who lived in one of the rooms of a large house that had seen better days, but was let off in single rooms to very poor people. She told him that one of the upper rooms was rented by a blind man, but added, "I must beg you, sir, on no account to go upstairs. His violent temper has made him a terror to the whole house, and he says he does not believe the Bible, and that if any one tries preaching or praying on him, he'll make them go downstairs quicker than they came up. You won't attempt it, will you, sir?”
But Mr. Mead would not promise. The outlook was certainly far from a bright one, but the man had a soul; perhaps he did not even know how
“God in mercy sent His Son,
To a world by sin undone;
Jesus Christ was crucified
'Twas for sinners Jesus died.”
And a great God-given pity for this poor bond-slave of Satan seemed to spring up in his heart, and after committing himself to the Lord in silent, though believing prayer, he resolved he would make the attempt. He found the door open, and entered, saying pleasantly, "We can't see each other, but that need not hinder our having a friendly chat." Asking to be guided to a seat quite near the man, he sat down by his side, laying his hand upon his shoulder as he talked. The man, whose name I do not remember, so we will call him Mr. R-, seemed too much surprised to say a word, and when, after nearly an hour, Mr. Mead rose to go, he was warmly invited to "come again, very soon." Other visits followed, and it was not long before the Holy Spirit convinced the man of his need of a Savior, and led him to see that Christ was just the Savior he needed.
Next chapter I hope, if the Lord will, again to take up my own life-story, and tell you how, through being a teacher, I became a learner.