WE were homeward bound from a port in India towards London when I became anxious about my soul. It so happened that there was a Christian young man on board, on his first voyage, as an apprentice, and much younger than myself, who was before the mast as able seaman. In filling our various duties, it very often came about that we were sent to work together, and being in the same watch (starboard), on and off duty, we were thrown a good deal into each other’s company.
While pacing the deck in the night watches we would often speak of home, the place so dear to a seaman’s heart. I learned that my companion’s father and mother were Christians living in Glasgow, and that it was not their wish that he should go to sea; but since he so earnestly desired it, they did not restrain him from his purpose. They did not know then, in their anxiety and fear for their son, that he was to be used by God in pointing a vile sinner to Christ.
Well, I felt drawn towards him by a power I could not account for. He being in possession of some excellent books, which were given him by some Christian friend on our departure from Port Chalmers for India, we used to spend many hours reading in our watch below, generally finishing with a chapter from God’s Word.
This went on for some time. I could plainly see that he possessed an inward peace and happiness such as I never knew, and I yearned to obtain it. I knew a good deal of the Bible, and in the sight of my fellow-shipmates might have passed for a good, moral, and upright man, but I knew I was not saved. I soon learned that my supposed morality was black and loathsome in the sight of God, and did not give peace to my mind. I was beginning to realize that I was on the way to destruction, which desperately troubled my mind.
One night as we were reading about the Philippian jailer crying out at midnight, “What must I do to be saved?” and was told to “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,” I said to Edwin (my shipmate) that “I believed in Christ right enough.” He said, “If you do, you are saved.” “No,” I said; “I know I am not saved.” I had known the story of Christ dying on the cross since I was a little boy at school, but up to then I knew I was not saved. The Philippian jailer had peace in believing, and Edwin had the same peace, but I had not. My heart was now awakened to seek this peace, and all other pleasures, vain talking, and spending the time as seamen are wont to do when off duty, became distasteful to me.
I began now to search and read my Bible very diligently. This, of course, directed the attention of my shipmates to me, and they began to pass remarks about me becoming religious; but what did I care for that? I saw that I was forever lost unless I got salvation. I knew if I were to die in that lost state. I would be cast into hell. One afternoon I was turning over the leaves of an old torn hymnbook, in which were a number of large texts of Scripture; looking over these my eye lighted on one, “Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass” (Psa. 37:55Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. (Psalm 37:5)). It just seemed to send a gleam of light into my soul. I brought the book to Edwin, and asked him to find the text that he thought suited me the best, and strange to say, he pointed out this very one. It was always in my mind after that, telling me to commit my way unto the Lord, and He would bring it to pass—about the finding of peace by believing.
One night, during the first watch (it was my “look-out” from ten to twelve), Edwin came on to the forecastlehead to accompany me for a short time, and talk about what was dear to his heart. We were running under topgallant sails; the night was dark, and it was blowing hard. The watch began to take in sail, so Edwin had to leave. I just said I would give myself up to God; I thought—If I put my case in His hands, and leave it with Him, He will bring it to pass, and give me this “peace in believing.” I knelt down on the forecastle, by the rail, and cried to the Lord Jesus to save me. I just said, “Lord Jesus, I give myself up to Thee, just as I am, my soul, my body, my sins and all, and bring Thou it to pass, that I may believe.”
Oh, that was the first real prayer I uttered during all my life, and it went above the roar of the wind and tempest, and right to the throne of God. Such a happy hour was that I Such a glorious light shone into my soul, which I cannot describe. I saw it all in a moment. I had not to wait, as I had thought, until some future time, but as soon as I cast myself upon Christ, laden with sins as I was, I was enabled to believe on Him for salvation, for He says, “Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.”
Being relieved at eight bells (midnight), I came down from off the look-out a saved man. I went straight and told Edwin. His joy was great. What a happy time we had afterward. One day, while showing me some letters he had received from home, one from his mother struck me very much, in which, writing to her son, she said, “Many times a day do I lift up my heart to the Lord to take care of you, and that He might make you the means of bringing one to Christ, to be with you.” I did not know then the mighty power of prayer, but many times since then have I thought it was God’s answer to this Christian mother’s prayer for her son, far away at sea, that brought about my conversion.
I now began to yearn for home. How I wished we would put into some port, that I might write to my father and mother, and tell them that I was saved. My wish was very near being realized, for, in a gale near the Cape of Good Hope, our ship began to leak very badly. After pumping all night, our soundings showed 5 1/2 feet of water in the hold. The captain thought of running for a port, but as the gale abated we gained on the water, and so kept our way. I shall not forget that dreary night and morning, but I knew if we foundered in that gale I was saved. This hope cheered me through it all, and, amid the cursing and oaths of my shipmates, I could lift up my heart to Christ, who gave me a quiet peace.
We eventually arrived in London, and, after a short delay, I reached my home in the North of Scotland. It was winter time. After supper we were all seated round the fire, and I told them then of this, the most eventful voyage I ever made, and how I had found Christ, and of the joy and peace I now possessed through believing. I also read to them a tract, which, when done, I turned to my father and said, “Father, will you believe that?” (meaning the story I read out of the tract). With a quivering voice he said, “Yes, my boy, I will.” I then turned to my mother and said, “Mother, will you believe it?” She could not speak much, but said through her tears, “Yes.” They were not tears of sorrow, but, I believe, tears of repentance.
I did not speak to my brother just then, but when we went to rest I spoke to him about his soul, and how Christ was waiting for him, and of the joy in heaven even over one sinner coming to Jesus. Although he was older than I and had a family of his own, I urged him to come to Christ at once, telling him what joy it would bring to his wife and peace to himself. He could not speak, but he just put his arm round my neck and cried. I believe Christ was with us that night, and that salvation came to all in the house, as it did to the Philippian jailer’s household.
I never knew what real joy was until I came to Christ. The people of the world think that the knowledge of Christ is a dull thing, That is just what my Shipmates said, and they laughed at me because I did not join them in their amusements, but I had something better. Christians cannot join in with the world in its ways and be true to Christ. If the world only knew of the real lasting joy a Christian has, they would just come to Christ at once. Well, I know for myself, for I have tried both sides; I have served the devil faithfully, and the greatest joy I ever got in this world left a gnawing at my heart. I’ll praise God for all eternity that I did not receive the devil’s wages, for “the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
And what can I say more? If any one who has not this peace in believing reads this—perhaps a seaman—troubled and tempest-tossed and steeped in sin as I was, I would say to him—Just cast yourself upon Christ, sins and all; commit thy way unto the. Lord, trust also in Him, and He will bring it to pass.
Looking back over a period of some twenty-five years, I feel no hesitation in affirming that the experiences I have related were indeed the work of the Lord. The changes wrought that eventful night, when I reached home, were permanent in the hearts of my loved ones—many of whom have long ere this gone to be with the Lord.
J. V.