For Little Ones.
MANY years ago a large ship, called the Dutton, was wrecked off the coast of Plymouth. All hope of saving the ship was gone, and nearly 600 persons were threatened with a watery grave, from which there seemed no possible escape. To add to their misery, all the officers, thinking only of their own safety, had forsaken the sinking vessel, so that there was no one to direct the crew or control the wild disorder into which despair had thrown them. Just as the last officer was drawn on shore by a rope which had been passed from the land to the wreck, Lord Exmouth happened to be on his way to a dinner party, and, seeing the crowds running to the Hoe, he learned the cause, and instantly hurried to the scene. The ship was full in sight, and he could perceive, from the confusion which reigned on board, that, unless someone was there to restore order the whole crew would be lost. In vain he tried to persuade the officers to return: there was not one among them who had the courage to attempt it, or the self-devotion to risk his own life for the sake of the 600 souls “ready to perish.” There was no time to be lost, and so Lord Exmouth resolved that, if they would not go, he would. But how was he to get there? No boat could swim through the furious surf, or live in the stormy waves, and there was no life boat to be had at Plymouth then. Well, what do you think he did? There was a rope, as I have said, which had been passed to and from the ship to save the officers, and so, tying this round his own waist, he gave the signal to those on board to pull it in, and in this manner, at the risk of his life, he was dragged through the stormy surf and waves right up into the ship. It was a most perilous thing to do, for the violence of the waves, as he was drawn through them, was enough to dash him to pieces, and the wonder is that he escaped being beaten to death against the rocks or suffocated by the waters. But he passed safely through all the peril, and stood at last upon the deck. His noble self-sacrifice gained the admiration and respect of all on board at once, and every man was ready to do his bidding. Order was soon restored, and the crew were all set to work to lash together spars and broken pieces of the wreck so as to make a raft. When it was ready a portion of the crew, at his command, got on to it, and the rest, controlled by his authority and influence, instead of crowding to the raft in wild disorder, stood calmly by while it was drawn to shore, and then drawn back again to receive another living freight. In this manner batch after batch of the crew got safe to land, until all were saved; nor did this noble officer leave the vessel until the last man descended with him, and when at last he stepped on shore he had got a little infant of three weeks old in his arms which he had persuaded its mother to entrust him with, because he thought he could better protect it through the stormy waves than she could do. Was not this a brave and a benevolent man? He went through the raging billows to save a ship’s crew of 600 persons, and I am sure you will say that each man ought to have felt deeply grateful to him as long as he lived for risking his own life thus willingly for them.
But can you tell me what it all reminds us of? Who was it that could say, “All Thy waves and Thy billows are gone over me”— “Thou hast afflicted me with all Thy waves? “Who was it that cried,” My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?” I am sure you will answer at once, “It was the Son of God when on the cross.” But why did He thus pass through the waves and billows of God’s wrath? Surely He had “done nothing amiss,” as even His enemies were constrained to say. He was “holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners.” He “glorified God on the earth,” which no one ever did before, for “all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” Why, then, did He pass through such terrible suffering up on the cross? Was it not to save sinners? Yes, indeed. He did not merely go through the waves and billows of the sea tied to a rope at the risk of His life, but He went down into death itself, even the death of that terrible cross, and that for us— for you and me.
How great must have been His love for sinners! for you know it is written, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” and this He did by-bearing the judgment due to sin — the wrath of God upon “the cursed tree.” Yes, He drained the cup of wrath to the very dregs, so that NONE might remain for them who believe in Him. Thus all who believe are saved. All who trust Jesus — all who believe God’s Word about Jesus — are saved. And what does the Word of God say about Him? It says that “the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth us from all sin” — that precious blood which He shed on the cross. You see God says this. Do you believe it because God says it? If you do then you, are saved. Many, many thousands have thus been saved — so many that you could not count them if you tried. You see, in the little tale which I have told you that the sailors trusted their deliverer; they cast themselves upon the raft at his bidding and were all saved. Do you trust God — our Saviour God. Believe Him; take Him at His word; obey Him; cast your soul on Christ, for “He is able to save to the uttermost,” and then you will be saved.
And being saved by Him — able by faith to say, “He loved me, and gave Himself for me”— will you not be grateful? Would the sailors soon forget him who saved them from death in the deep waters? I should hope not. Well Jesus says:
“REMEMBER ME.”
J. L. K.