A lady was once distributing tracts on board a steamer and, among others, she handed one to an unsaved man. She passed on along the deck, and as she returned she was deeply pained to see the man tear the tract she had given him in fragments and fling it overboard. She simply said, as she walked past him, "You will have to account for that."
The gentleman thought no more of the matter. The tract was scattered upon the waters and destroyed, as he imagined, and he forgot all about it. But not so the living God. He had forgotten neither the tract nor the man who had torn it up. He caused a little scrap of that torn tract to be blown by the breeze into the man's bosom; and that very night, as he was undressing to go to bed, the fragment of the tract fell to the floor. He took it up. It was but a very small scrap, but it was just large enough to contain two words of immense weight and deep solemnity: "God" and "eternity." Along with these two words, the lady's pointed utterance came back to his memory: "You will have to account for that."
Thus this man had before his mind those three great and solemn realities: God—eternity—judgment. Tremendous words! He lay down, but not to sleep. There was no sleep for his eyes, nor slumber for his eyelids that night. He tossed restlessly to and fro till the morning. The words, God, eternity, and "you will have to account for that," rang in his ears and echoed deep down in his heart.
He arose from his couch and sought to drown his anxiety in drink, but it did no good. He awoke from his stupor only to feel with augmented force those solemn words: "God!—Eternity!—Judgment to come!" In short, an arrow from the quiver of God had entered his soul. He had thought to get rid of that little tract— to drown that silent messenger. But no; God had His eye upon him. God sent the breeze and caused it to waft to his bosom that identical scrap torn from the tract. No other would do but that one, because it contained the very words which the eternal Spirit meant to use as an arrow to pierce his soul.
How marvelous are God's ways! Who but an atheist could doubt that the hand of God was in that breeze which blew that little fragment into the man's bosom? Blessed be His name, He knows how to reach the soul; and when He begins to work, naught can hinder. He had His eye upon that precious soul, in spite of all his enmity and all his efforts to turn aside the arrow which sovereign grace had aimed at his heart.
The man thought to get rid of the tract; but God was determined that just so much of it should lodge in his bosom as contained the arrow that was to be lodged in his heart. In vain did the man seek to get rid of his impressions, to stifle his convictions. His misery increased, his anxiety became more intense. There was but one thing which could heal his wound, and that was the precious balm of the gospel, the soothing virtues of the blood of Christ. Before many days a friend drew him in to hear a gospel message, and his troubled soul found rest in believing in the finished work of Christ.
"Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." Phil. 1: 6.