Some years ago in Paris, a gay young socialite, living only for the world, lay in bed suffering from a heavy cold. Her sisters came in laughing and exclaimed: "Have you heard the latest joke?"
"No; what is it?"
"Oh, there is a mad fellow come over from England preaching what he calls "the Gospel!" He rants away in English, and one of the French pastors interprets. It is the most ridiculous thing! But all the world is going, and we are going, too."
Soon they were gone, leaving the sick girl alone. Suddenly there came into her heart― she did not know why― an indescribable desire to go too. She rang the bell for her maid, and said: "I want you to help me get ready."
"But you are not well enough to get up." "Never mind, I am going to get up; send for a cab."
The servant protested; but go she would. She was driven to the hall where the strange speaker was to preach.
There was but one vacant seat, right in front of the platform, and she was ushered into it. By the time the hymn was sung and prayer offered she was reasonably composed and solemnized.
Then followed a dead silence as the preacher walked to the front of the platform― and looked her full in the face, as if he had been specially sent to her. He paused for a moment, and as she looked up wondering, her eyes met his. Gazing at her, as though he would read the secrets of her heart, he suddenly said: "Poor sinner, God loves you."
"I do not know," she stated afterward, "what more he said. I have no doubt he preached the gospel very fully, but I heard nothing more. I sat there sobbing as if my heart was broken. I scarcely knew what it was. I could not help it.
"As I sat there, it seemed as if my whole life passed before me, a loveless, godless life. I had turned my back on God, lived for the world, lived for pleasure, lived in sin. But that voice kept ringing in my ear over and over again. I could hear nothing but,
“‘Poor sinner, God loves you.'
"How I got out of the room I do not know. I found myself by and by kneeling at my own bedside. The tears were still streaming from my eyes. Still I heard that voice within my soul:
“‘Poor sinner, God loves you.'
"At last, conscious of my own utter unworthiness, I dared to look up, and cried out:
“’O, my God, if Thou lovest me, I have never loved Thee before, but now from this time I take Thee at Thy word! I trust Thy love; I cast myself on Thy love."
From that time the world faded. Its attractions lost their charms; the empty gaieties of life in which she had been living passed away like a dream in the morning. She went on her way, a new woman, born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the received love of God.