"Mother, I need you; do not leave me yet." It was the tearful appeal of a boy to his mother who lay dying. Her reply was gentle: "I will never be able to return to you, son, but you may come to me." He never forgot those parting words as life for him went on.
Youth, young manhood and college days came with their stresses and temptations. The fact that his father was a Methodist minister did not keep the young fellow from the snare of drink.
Subsequently he graduated with a law degree and was admitted to the Georgia bar. He was called by one judge, "the brightest boy ever admitted to our State's bench." But brilliance is no bar to the lust for liquor.
He became a seemingly hopeless alcoholic. When sober enough to handle a case, he was acclaimed as one of the cleverest of lawyers. But often he was simply regarded as a mere drunkard.
However, one day, during a prolonged drinking spree, came word that his father was critically ill. He hurried to his bedside and greeted him with:
"How are you, dad?"
"I'm weak in body, boy," answered his father, "but spiritually strong. When other props fail me, Jesus stands firm."
The prodigal squirmed uneasily; he had been one of the props that failed.
Later, when the end came and relatives were called in to say good-bye, he stood at the foot of his father's bed listening to his farewell messages. Addressing his son he said: "My poor wayward boy, you have broken the heart of your wife and have brought me in sorrow to my grave."
The dissipated man snatched away his tear-filled, bloodshot eyes, as his father continued: "Promise me you will meet me in heaven." Overcome with remorse, the prodigal son took his father's hand in his and shouted: "I promise! I'll quit drinking and set things straight. I'll meet you and mother in heaven."
With this promise the father died and went to be with Christ. His son never took another drink. The very next Sunday he went to hear his grandfather preach, and after the sermon he plodded up the aisle and publicly requested prayers of the congregation.
A few weeks later at the close of one of his grandfather's sermons he again walked up the aisle and declared: "I want to give all that's left of me to Christ." He came to Jesus as he was, a poor, guilty, helpless sinner, and Christ received him; His precious blood washed him whiter than snow.
A week later he delivered his first sermon from his grandfather's pulpit. It was the start of a long career of devoted service to the Lord Jesus, his newly-found Savior.
Great crowds were drawn to hear him preach the gospel. The president of the United States was among those who sought his counsel and spiritual help. God owned and honored his ministry as he labored from coast to coast, and thousands were converted through his preaching.
His name was Sam Jones― no longer, Sam the drunken lawyer; but Sam the Evangelist.
Hallelujah! what a Savior
Who can take a poor lost sinner,
Lift him from the miry clay
And set him free;
I will ever tell the story,
Shouting glory, glory, glory,
Hallelujah! Jesus ransomed me