An infidel, some years ago,
Lay resting on God’s holy day;
Agnostic writings, high and low,
Around him in confusion lay.
His little girl, a tiny thing,
She’d hardly reached the age of seven.
He dearly loved, and thought it time
A lesson in his creed was given.
So as upon the couch he lay
He wrote with charcoal on the wall:
“GOD IS NO WHERE” then turned around
His little fair-haired child to call.
“Ethel, come here,” and by his side,
With laughing eyes, the maiden stands;
He lifts her up, and lovingly
Lays on her head caressing hands.
“You are at school now, let me hear
How well you’ve learned to read and spell;
You see those letters on this wall,
Can you to me their meaning tell?
The little child upon his knee
Spells out the letters sweet and clear
“God is N-O-W—now—H-E-R-E— here—
God is now here.”
The infidel looks up aghast,
And gazes blankly at the child;
She sees his look of wonderment,
And patting his stern face, she smiled.
“Say I am right, dear father, say,
For I have read the letters well;
You did not think I’d do it—but
GOD IS NOW HERE the letters
spell.”
The clinging arms around his neck
He eased, and bade her go and play,
While from the writing on the wall
He resolutely turned away.
The child is gone, the room is still,
The stalwart man is trembling now;
His face is pale, the cold sweat stands
In beady drops upon his brow.
His whole black catalogue of sins
Crowd on his memory line on line,
While from the wall the dreaded words
In fiery letters seems to shine.
GOD IS NOW HERE, O dreadful thought,
He feels His power and presence near;
Then falling on his face he cries,
And pleads for mercy in his fear.
Hours speed away, and there he kneels,
No ray of light, no hope is given;
Then, O, a flood of blessed light,
The dawning of the day of Heaven.
‘Twas but a little text he’d learned,
And then forgotten it again:
“The Blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,”
Can cleanse the soul from every stain.
“Lord Jesus,” now in joy he cries,
“Who gave Thy life in love divine;
I, once a rebel, lowly bow,
And pledge myself forever Thine.”
Then to his feet with shining face
The now forgiven sinner leapt,
And all his once loved books he piled
Where firewood for the stove was kept.
And then the Bible, much abused.
Which he had loved to criticize,
He lifted up with trembling hands,
And reads anew with lightened eyes.
A monument of saving grace,
A miracle of power divine,
For through each action, look and word,
The glories of the Saviour shine.
His home is changed, where scoffers met
To ridicule God’s love and claim;
A lowly band now weekly meet
To praise their great Redeemer’s Name.
And there above his couch is hung
In brilliant letters, bold and clear,
Sewn by his little daughter’s hand,
Four blessed words: GOD IS NOW HERE.
ML 10/13/1940