His holiday was one of pleasure, and ended all too soon. The afternoon was drawing to a close as Robert Holmes left his home. if ever a heart knew the pain of an aching void, it was his that day.
“Had a good time of it? asked a sergeant.
Yes, he knew it had been a good time, for during those days and weeks he had felt something of the sinfulness of sin, and the beauty of goodness, and returning he brought the parting blessing of those at home, and knew their prayers would follow.
The sharp words of the young officer, who was showing his power over the men on drill, sounded harshly on his ears. The banter and coarse jokes of comrades greeted him, and the hollow laughter distressed him.
“What’s up with Holmes? Haven’t seen him in the canteen since his return,” said a private one day.
“Goodness knows. He has got the blues, and prefers sulking likely.”
These and similar remarks were made, but wherever he went he did not hear the old tones of the voices at home, but the warmth of those scenes still lingered in his memory. Strange questions, too, were in his mind.
“What is life worth without God? What can satisfy the heart without Christ’s love?” and neither the bustle of occupation, nor the jargon of noisy talk could banish these thoughts.
Meanwhile the prayers at home went up to God for the soldier son. Evenings the men were free, homeless and often heartless, and the powers of evil hovered round to ruin the manhood of the men.
A week since Robert’s furlough had ended in point of time, but not in influence, the atmosphere of home was still about him—the reading, the singing, the laughter, the tears, all were powerful influences shutting him up to decision or despair.
The Soldier’s Home had not been much frequented by him. That night he went in. Not many made up the audience, but Robert was there to hear, “Take up thy cross and follow Me.” He saw the great end of life, the beauty of the Saviour, and His wondrous cross, and the hope that maketh not ashamed. He believed and was saved.
Lying awake that night for hours, he gathered up the hindrances that he must lay down. His fear of the opinion and of men, his cowardice, ad his entangling habits, that led him into evil. At last he said, “Ready, Lord. Shall your soldier shrink? Drill me—order me—restrain me; only let me serve under Thy banner, love?” and the words came from the Captain of Salvation, “Follow Me,” and then he lay thinking of Jesus, the One his parents loved, and his whole soul was filled with love to Him.
A manlier man, a better soldier was Robert Holmes in the months that followed. Scoffing and jeering soon ceased when it was seen he felt it an honor to bear anything for Christ, and all along the ranks his bright example told.
Once more the old man’s face shone with joy in the cottage home, as he listened while his wife read the soldier’s letter.
“Does he say that? Read it again.”
She wiped her eyes and read: “I will never forget my last furlough. Home was like a little heaven, and the love there was a spark of God’s great love.”
“Now I am content to go—not one of them will be missing, not even our soldier boy—praise the Lord!” said the thankful father.
“Poor, dear Robert,” said Ada, “I almost thought your hopes were vain—he had grown so careless and wild.”
“Prayer and love, my girl, never fail; that is how the wanderers are to be saved.”
H. J.