It was long years ago, out in San Francisco, that a group of us went to the beach by the Cliff House. We were having our Sunday School outing as was our custom there on Washington's birthday.
That morning we got to the beach about nine o'clock. The fog was just beginning to lift, and in a little while we were amazed to see all kinds of wreckage on the shore. Where did it all come from?
Later we learned that a great ship, the "Rio de Janeiro," on its way home from China, had sought sanctuary from a blinding blanket of fog, and had attempted to enter San Francisco harbor. In the thick darkness of the fog the mighty vessel had run upon a rock and was broken to pieces. Hundreds of passengers had drowned; some few had escaped.
The newspapers told this story: Among the rescued ones was a young American journalist. Both of his legs had been broken when the ship crashed against the rock. Only partly conscious, he dragged himself to the deck. There he lay until the surging waves washed him into the cold waters of the bay. The icy shock probably restored him to full consciousness and he began to float. Hours afterward that utterly helpless man was drawn out of the water by a rescue party.
What a picture of God's grace to needy sinners! There were some, strong, hearty men, who swam for hours before they were picked up. Many others became exhausted and drowned. But this man, seriously injured, yea, half dead, could not save himself. He was totally helpless. Yet through God's wondrous mercy he was saved.
What a picture of you, of me! We too were lost in trespasses and in sin. But God, in His great love wherewith He loved us, sent His own dear Son to rescue us by dying in our stead. And now all who believe on Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.