I HAVE before me a small piece of canvas, scorched and blackened, which preaches me a sermon, and reminds me of the text, “Christ died for us.” (Rom. 5:88But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8).) It was once part of a fire-escape, worked by a fireman named Joe Ford, of whom the papers said― “but for him the lives of six persons would have been sacrificed.”
The six were in danger from fire; they were unable to help themselves, nor could any friends render them assistance.
But a saviour came! Tidings of the outbreak reached the fireman, and, buckling on his helmet, he ran swiftly to the spot. He came where they were―came with all that was needful for their salvation―came purposely to save them, whoever they were, wherever they were, and just as they were―came to do all, and to do all freely; and this makes me think of the Lord, the Saviour of sinners, of whom it was said, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” (1 Tim. 1:1515This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief. (1 Timothy 1:15).)
“Down from the shining courts above
With joyful haste He sped.”
As the fireman entered the street, clouds of dense black smoke were rolling up from the lower parts of the house that was burning; but with cool courage he fixed his machine, and threw up his ladders to where the poor terrified people were whom he had come to save. Then up to them he went, and they waited his approach. Did they wish to argue with their saviour as to the origin of the fire, think you? Did they propose to decline his services? Did they hesitate when he bade them escape, and say, “Go thy way for this time”? Ah! no; they were wiser in respect of a danger to the body than many are in respect of a far greater danger to the soul. One, two, three were brought in safety to the ground.
In the meantime the flames within the building were spreading rapidly; the smoke without was becoming blacker and hotter; and the saving arm―unlike His whose hand “is not shortened, that it cannot save” (Isa. 59:11Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear: (Isaiah 59:1)) ―was becoming weak and exhausted. Again the fireman mounted the ladder, and again he descended with another precious burden. He had saved four. Again he trod that narrow way of escape, and once more brought forth a rescued one. Five persons saved from the flames!
Now the crowd stood breathless—a woman appeared at the open window. There was one still left in peril. Had the fireman strength to reach her? Why should he, exhausted as he now was, risk his life for a stranger? He had undertaken the office, it was true, but had he reckoned upon such a sacrifice? Was such a deed expected? If Joe Ford would save you shrieking woman, he must risk his own life. Rallying his strength, the brave fireman mounted a sixth time, amidst ringing cheers from the crowd. He reached her! Steadily, step by step, he bore her down the ladders to the opening into the canvas shoot. He placed her in it, and slid her to the ground. She was saved!
Now for the brave fireman. Where was he? The flames burst through the first-floor window beneath him; they set the canvas of the escape on fire. At the same instant Joe’s ax became entangled in the wire netting, and he hung suspended in the very fire from which he had rescued the woman. While she stood in safety, beyond the reach of harm, he was consumed in the very flames from which he had saved her. With dying energy the poor fellow managed to break away from his terrible position, but only to fall, with a heavy crash, some twenty-five feet to the pavement, crushing his helmet almost into the brain. I shudder as I think of that awful moment.
Oh, if a London crowd could weep as a fellow man suffered, what tears ought we to weep as we remember how the gracious Saviour expired for sinners on the cross! He took the sinners’ place in perfect love; He bore the wrath of God due to us; He was, as it were, consumed as a sacrifice in the very flames of divine judgment on our account. This did Jesus endure for us who rejected Him. Have you ever wept tears of love for Him?
“But drops of grief can pe’er repay
The debt of love I owe.
Here, Lord, I give myself away;
‘Tis all that I can do.”
What should we have thought of those six persons whom the fireman saved if they had made no inquiries after their deliverer―if they had shed no tears when told of his death? I remember how even strangers honored that hero, as his body, carried upon a draped engine, passed through the London streets. Bells were tolling from the churches, shopkeepers put up shutters along the route, and not a few rough men and women did I see drop a tear as the long procession passed. The battered helmet placed among the wreaths upon the Union Jack covering the coffin touched many a heart.
But, alas! how few hearts are truly melted and broken by the dying love of Christ!
One other fact about my friend, Joe Ford. I think I was the last person who spoke to him that night before he went to his last fire. I left him a little book, entitled “What would make you happy?” and as I shook hands with him I repeated the title, emphasizing the personal pronoun, “What would make you happy?” We parted, never to speak again to each other on earth. My little book went with him to the fire, and was found afterward in his burnt pocket. I little thought, and he little thought, it was the last time we should meet.
Reader, this may be the last warning you will ever have? We tell you of our Saviour who died that you might live―who gave Himself to save sinners.
He who has come to save is nigh, and able to save. Do you want a way of escape? He is the Way. Do you need a strong arm? He is able to save to the uttermost.
Such is my story. Is it to be wondered at if I value the little piece of burnt canvas that can preach me such a sermon? So I will fold up my little relic—all that I have to remind me of my friend―and think once more of my Saviour who died for me, and who will bring me safe to glory. W. L.
O Lord, we adore Thee,
For Thou art the slain One
Who livest forever,
Enthroned in heaven;
Our title to glory
We read in Thy blood.