“God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform.”
My friend Mr. H— and I were speaking of remarkable providences, or rather of what we deemed to be such; when he said I think the following-incident will interest you.
Captain T―, a well-known Christian officer of the Guards, was hurrying along the Strand to keep an engagement at Exeter Hall, where he had been announced to speak―he had been detained and was late. As he turned into the entrance, a gentleman walking in the opposite direction observed him, and was struck by his manly and officer-like bearing, and followed him into the hall, without having the smallest notion for what purpose meetings were held there.
At the same moment Captain T―stepped upon the platform, and was at once called upon to address the meeting, and the strange gentleman took his seat in the body of the building. Captain T―had not had a moment to collect his thoughts, or to formulate his address, and all the while he was speaking Satan kept whispering to him, “You never made such a fool of yourself in your life,” and all the while he was speaking, the thought was impressed upon the mind of the stranger― “When I die I will send for neither priest nor parson―that is the man for me.”
At the conclusion of the address, General― rose, and having obtained the name and address of the speaker, made a note of it.
Years passed, when one night a violent ring came to Captain T — ‘s door. Putting his head out of the window, he asked what was wanted. A powdered footman replied, “My master, General―, is dying, and has sent for you.” Captain T―replied, “I never heard of your master, but I will come.” Dressing as speedily as possible, he came downstairs, and from force of habit took his umbrella from the stand and jumped into the cab, and was rapidly driven off to General― ‘s house, a magnificent West End mansion. Friends had been summoned from the theater, ball-room, and opera to take a last farewell, and were now assembled, in compliance with the General’s wish, to take part in the religious function which it was expected Captain T―would conduct.
As the bedroom door opened and Captain T―walked, in, umbrella in hand, a motley scene presented itself. Upon the bed lay the apparently dying man, while all around stood groups of ladies and gentlemen dressed in the height of fashion, expecting some remarkable religious ceremony to be conducted by a layman, of a character very different from that which marked the services to which those who attended their West End church were usually accustomed. Nor were they disappointed, but, much to their astonishment, Capt. T―, instead of producing his Bible or engaging in extempore prayer, or urgently appealing to the dying man to come to Christ, held his umbrella across the bed and told the invalid to lay hold of it. He did so, first with one hand and then with the other. “Now,” said Captain T―, “all you have to do is by faith to cling to Christ as you are clinging to that umbrella.” Without another word he left the room. The assembled friends were very angry. “What consummate folly,” and much more to the same effect.
In the morning Captain T―called at the house and sent for the nurse.
Captain T―: “Is General― still living?”
Nurse: “Yes; and no thanks to you.”
Captain T―: “Is he conscious?”
Nurse: “Partially.”
Captain T―: “When conscious what does he say?”
Nurse: “I’m clinging still.”
Captain T―: “Good morning, that will do.”
General ―recovered, and went to stay with Captain T—at D―Park. There he met my friend Mr. H―. One night, when a large party was present, after prayer, General asked permission to tell his story, and then added, “I have nothing more to say except that I am clinging still.’”
The foregoing narrative is a plain recital of simple facts. It contains the Gospel in a nutshell. To come to Christ as the Saviour is the first act of faith; and to cling to Christ, Who alone is strong enough to uphold and wise enough to guide, and loving enough always and everywhere to shepherd His sheep, is the second. General ― met all the requirements, as a man of the world, demanded by the society in which he lived and moved” and had his being. He was “an officer and a gentleman”; a thoroughly moral and, so-called, “religious” man. Being very wealthy, he was certainly clothed in purple and fine linen, and he fared sumptuously every day.
As for the crumbs that fell from his table, by all means let the poor and destitute make the most of them. He naturally objected upon principle that any unhappy Lazarus should lie at his gate full of sores-the sight was repulsive, and Thompson, the butler, was requested without delay to communicate with Bumble, the relieving officer, to prevent the recurrence of such a thing. Bumble, thoroughly appreciating the quarter from which the request came, was zealous beyond measure, and General― could march to church with military punctuality, spotlessly attired, without the annoyance of being met or accosted by any wretched unhappy Lazarus on the way. What then was amiss? Only this, that the center of General — ‘s life was General―, and not Christ.
He had for many long years been contenting himself with the outward and visible sign, while ignorant of the inward and spiritual grace. From the moment, however, that with both hands he grasped the outward and visible sign as the umbrella was held across the bed, he realized, as never before, “the thing signified,” and by faith laid hold on Christ his Saviour, and having laid hold of Christ he clung to Christ.
Reader, how is it with you?
You have probably complied with all the outward and visible requirements of the church to which you belong. You may have been baptized with water, confirmed, and on certain festivals of the Church you may have attended the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper; but all this and more also is in vain, unless having by faith come to Christ, you make Him the center of your life instead of self, and having enthroned Him Lord and King, live and move and have your being in Him. To be out of Christ is to be lost. To be in Christ is to be saved.
Late Madras Staff Corps.
W. D. Chapman (Capt.)