It is nearly forty years ago. Yet the scene is all before me now, and the events of that never-to-be-forgotten night are as fresh in my memory as if they had happened yesterday.
I sat by the fireside with my widowed mother, waiting for the home-coming of my only brother, Charlie. He was a medical student in Edinburgh, and was coming home that night on his usual vacation. There were no railways in those days, so Charlie had to come by the mail coach which took the greater part of the day to make the journey.
I was looking forward to this home-coming with great delight, and had a long program of "events" planned. First of all there was to be a supper party and a dance on the following night. Mother was very indulgent, and allowed us to do very much as we liked in these matters; and of course Charlie and I took full advantage of her liberality, and made our plans in grand style.
The hours passed on, and still there was no coach. It was late in the afternoon. I grew restless, and feared that all my plans for the morrow might be upset. "What if he does not come?" I said. "That will spoil the whole thing.”
Just then the "horn" sounded, and the big mail coach rolled into the village amid clouds of dust. In the crowd of passengers was my brother Charlie, and in a few minutes more he stood in the old parlor where he and I had together as children spent so many happy days.
He was taller and thinner; but the old happy smile dimpled his cheek, and I never felt so proud of my brother as I did that day. I was so eager to inform him of all my plans that I accompanied him up to his room. Rapidly I sketched for him the good times ahead and especially what was arranged for the following day.
He listened to me patiently, but without the great interest I had expected. When I had finished, he gave a pleasant laugh, threw his arms around my neck, and kissing me affectionately said, "Maggie, my dear, you will not be offended if I tell you that these things are no longer any enjoyment for me. I have got something infinitely better.”
I looked at him in amazement and thought he was joking, for no one had enjoyed a dance more heartily than Charlie. He saw I was puzzled; so drawing me to his side, he said, "Do not be alarmed, Maggie. I have not turned monk; but I have got Christ as my own Lord and Master. Now He is more to me than all these follies used to be. But come on; Mother will be waiting. I will tell you both all about it.”
That night by the parlor fireside Charlie told us the story of his conversion. It was while listening to the preaching of Brownlow North in Edinburgh. How he had longed to get back to his native town to tell to his old friends and loved ones the story of redeeming love!
"What shall we do about tomorrow night?" asked my mother in dismay. "Our preparations are all made, and there are about twenty invited.”
Charlie laughed heartily and said, "Let them come by all means, Mother. I shall be delighted to see them. It's just possible we may have some music and dancing after all, before the evening is over.”
A goodly company gathered at our home the following night. After supper our guests besought Charlie to favor them with a song, as he used to do. He was a splendid singer, and never had his voice sounded better than it did that evening. After a moment's pause, and in a voice of thrilling sweetness, Charlie sang:
"I've found a Friend, O such a Friend!
He loved me ere I knew Him!
He drew me with the cords of love,
And thus He bound me to Him..
And round my heart still closely twine
These ties which naught can sever,
For I am His, and He is mine,
For ever and for ever.”
A look of blank amazement settled on the faces of the company as the words fell on their ears. Every eye was fixed on the singer, spellbound. Tears were seen in some of them; and as the singer reached the last verse, his voice increasing in power and sweetness, the thrilling words pierced many hearts:
"The eternal glories gleam afar,
To nerve my faint endeavor;
So now to watch, to work, to war,
And then to rest forever.”
A few of the company rose and shortly afterward made their departure; but the greater part remained. To them Charlie in his winning hearty manner told the simple story of his conversion. He ended up with "You will not be angry with me for telling you, will you? The truth is, I could not keep it! My heart is full of it. I thought the least I could do was to tell you of my newfound treasure.”
In simplicity Charlie gave testimony to the saving power of Christ. The beaming face of the speaker, so well known to all of the company, the genuineness of the change in him, the absence of all affectation, and the earnest closing appeal to "accept the Gift of God, His own beloved Son, to be your Savior, and know true happiness for time and eternity," were owned of God. At least five of our guests left our house in company with their newfound Friend, the Lord Jesus Christ.
Charlie spoke in the schoolroom on Sunday evening to a crowded congregation, and several others were won for Christ. A great ingathering followed. And among those who were saved and who sang the new song were my mother and I. We join our dear Charlie in saying to all who read this story, "Accept the Gift of God, His own beloved Son, to be your Savior.”