A gentleman, while traveling, came to a river which he must cross before he could reach his destination. Joe Brown, a boatman, was accustomed to ferry passengers over the river; so the boat being ready, the gentleman seated himself in the bow. Joe then took his place, lifted the oars, and the two glided swiftly along. There were sloops going up and down the river, as they did every day. Suddenly Joe drew in his oars, and springing to his feet, pulled off his ragged old straw hat, and with his hand shaded his eyes, while he strained his sight towards some object on a sloop in the distance.
“As I’m a living man,” he exclaimed, “that’s the captain!”
The gentleman, startled, followed the eyes of Joe, but could distinguish nothing but the forms of three or four men on a sloop in the distance.
“See him, sir!” said Joe. “Don’t you see that strong, kind-looking man against the mast?” he urged.
“Perhaps I shall see him when the vessel gets nearer.”
“I wish you could see the captain,” said Joe.
“Who is the captain?” he asked.
“The captain!” said Joe, in surprise, “He’s the man that saved me!” But quickly turning his eyes to the sloop, he said, “I can’t miss seeing him, while he’s in sight,” and gazed with intense earnestness.
The sloop did not come near, and passed by with no signal to Joe, who stood as steady as a mast in a ship, with his hat in his hand. As the sloop sailed on, the figures of the men became hidden, and Joe sat down again to his oars.
“I told you, sir,” said he, “that he’s the man that saved me.”
“How did he save you, Joe?”
“He stripped off his coat, and jumped into the river, and caught hold of me with his strong arm, just as I was sinking into the great depths, with the ropes around my feet. That’s the way he saved me,” said Joe, eloquent with emotion.
“You have not forgotten to be grateful, Joe, I see.”
“Grateful!! Joe Brown would breathe every breath he draws for him if he could. I told him I would work the rest of my days without any pay. It would be enough and more, and it pays me just to be allowed to serve him. But,” he added sadly, “I stay as close by him as I can. He runs by here once a month. I watch for him always, and I love to point him out, it’s all I can do.”
The traveler, who was a Christian, was deeply moved by the earnestness of the poor man, and the depth and tenderness of his gratitude. In a moment there flashed across him a humiliating sense of his own ingratitude toward One whose strong arm had snatched him from eternal death. Why should he ever forget the privilege of pointing out Him whose name is above every name—the Man Christ Jesus!