“DEAR father! How I wish I was more like him! Never happy unless he is gathering some jewels for the Master. Let me see, what does he say the child's name is? Oh, Fanny Woods. Yes, I remember her at school, an interesting child; I must look her up.”
So saying, Wilfred Austen turned again to his books, from which he had been disturbed by the arrival of his father's letter. For only a short time, however: soon came another hindrance, a heavy thud at the door. It was with a sigh the young man rose to answer it; he did not often get an evening for study, but when he did manage it, he was somehow or other sure to be interrupted. A pitiable object met his gaze on opening the door-a shivering, ragged lad of some 17 or 18 years stood before him.
It was a cold night for the time of year, being only early in October, and a heavy rain had been falling all the evening. The poor young fellow was drenched through and through, and so utterly wretched that though he only asked for a copper or two for a night's lodging, Mr. Austen, bidding him follow him in, drew up a chair for him by his own fire, and cutting him some bread and cheese, told him to eat it as he dried his clothes.
Once again Wilfred took up his book, but he could not fix his thoughts; his mind would wander to the stranger.
It was a long walk to the village, and he did not like the idea of turning him out on such an inclement night. He would not like himself to take at that late hour a walk of a mile or more in the drenching rain. He looked at his visitor, the poor young fellow had finished his supper; the fire was evidently making him drowsy, for after one or two ineffectual efforts to keep awake, his head sank on his chest, and his heavy breathing told Wilfred that he was asleep.
“Poor chap!" he thought, "he must stay. Let me see, where can I put him? On the couch, I suppose. It will be of no good to me after, of course, but I can do without it “Come!" he said aloud, "it's a bad night for turning out. I will give you a blanket to roll yourself in on that couch.”
The young fellow seemed quite dumbfounded at this unexpected proposal. Here was bed, supper and fire all for nothing; and in a preacher's room, too! All he managed to get out was, "I am sure you are very kind.”
The poor fellow's outward condition had taken all Wilfred's thoughts up to this moment; but as he watched him kick off his boots and prepare to lie down prayer-less, and for all he knew utterly ignorant of the first principles of the gospel, his heart smote him for his unfaithfulness.
“I will not put off till to-morrow what is best done to-night, a few words at parting would not make half the impression that a talk now might." Waiting only to send up the short prayer, "Lord, help me to win another jewel for Thy crown," Wilfred crossed the room, and, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, asked—
“Have you no prayer to offer up before lying down?”
“Nobody ever taught me one, sir.”
“Well, I will teach you one presently, but I want to talk with you a bit first. Do you know, my friend, that God loves you?”
“Why, sir, I am a right bad one. God Almighty does not love such as me.”
“Who do you think put it into my heart to take you in? It was God. Who led you to my door? It was God, because He loved you; He sent you to me that I might teach you about Him.
“Did He, though?”
“Yes, indeed. I will read you a story out of the Bible which shows how God loves poor sinners.”
Reaching his Bible, Mr. Austen read the parable of the Prodigal Son. (Luke 15) "God has put that story into the Bible on purpose to show the very worst that they are not too bad to be loved by Him That father welcoming his son is a picture of how God feels to you. You are a great way off from God, but He loves you still, and just as that father ran to meet his son as soon as he saw him coming to him, so God is waiting to be gracious to you.
“You have heard of Jesus?" The young man nodded.
“Do you know that He died for you?”
“I have heard tell somewhat about it.”
“What do you think made Him willing to come down from heaven and be nailed to the cross and suffer and die for us? It was because He loved us so much that He was willing to bear all the punishment our sins deserved, so that God might forgive us and take us to heaven when we die. Do not you think you should love Him who so loved you? ‘God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Now let us kneel down and pray. You can say the words after me.”
The two young men knelt side by side, while Wilfred prayed earnestly for God's blessing on the stranger.
“Can you read?" asked Wilfred, as they rose from their knees.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I am glad of that. I will give you a Testament before you go in the morning. Let me see, you have not told me your name yet, have you? Joe Barker is it? Well, good night, Joe. I hope you will sleep well.”
But Joe did not feel at all inclined to sleep now. How wonderful all this was that he had just heard. It was so new to him.
“God loves me! Jesus died for me! I have to ask Him to wash away my sins and He will do so, and will take me, Joe Barker, to heaven some day.”
Thus mused Joe, as he lay curled up in his blanket, watching his new friend, who, quite unconscious of his gaze, drew up his chair to the fire, and taking out his father's letter began to read it again. He skimmed through the first part. "Ah, here it is.
I want to see what father says about this child. "And he commenced reading...." I was very interested in one little girl I talked to on the shore; she, with a companion, were the last I spoke to. She was evidently in rapid consumption. She listened to the word with great eagerness and I think it took root in her heart.
Yesterday I met her friend (a nice child too), and asking after her, was told that she had returned home to Farnley. I was pleased to hear that she belonged to Farnley, as I do not want to lose sight of her; no doubt you will be able to find her, her name is Fanny Woods. I know, my dear boy, that you will not mind any trouble you spend in helping to polish one of the dear Lord's jewels.”
Wilfred laid down the letter and sat looking into the fire. His thoughts traveled back many years, he saw himself a boy of twelve and thought he could hear his father's voice reading, "And they shall be mine saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels." He could remember the exact words his father said, "Is Jesus to pick up a little jewel to-night, Willie? You are His, because He bought you. Oh! what a price He paid for you. Has He not a right to you? Every bit of you should be His, every minute of your time should be His, everything that you have should be His. Will you not tell Him you want to be His jewel?" Yes, that was the turning-point of his life, and now. God was using him to win other jewels. Falling on his knees Wilfred Austen pleaded earnestly that the precious soul that God had sent to him this night might be won for his Master's crown.
“O Lord! bless the words I have spoken to the lad, open his eyes that he may see himself a lost sinner. Wash him in Thy precious blood, take all his sins away and help him to trust in Thee. Make him one of Thy jewels, O Lord!
May he sparkle and shine for Thee down here, and may he win other precious gems for Thy crown, O Lord of hosts!”
Joe could hardly believe his ears; well that beats all, the gentleman was praying for him, and calling him a jewel. Tears came into his eyes, and the prayer found an echo in his heart, "Make me one of Thy jewels, O Lord!”