SOME years ago, in a village in Yorkshire, the Lord was working in a remarkable way, convincing men of sin, and leading them into the knowledge of forgiveness through Christ.
Amongst these was Robert Robinson. He was truly awakened, and in the distress of his soul, cried to God, like the publican of old, “Lord, be merciful to me a sinner." One thing pressed very heavily on poor Robert. He was by occupation a miller, and managed a mill driven by water power. In hot, summer weather the supply of water would sometimes run short, and he had to stop the mill until the dam filled, and then go on again. On such occasions Robert's master required him, when the dam was full, to turn on the water, whatever day it might be, and this involved John, at times, in working on the Lord's day.
This Sunday-grinding seemed to Robert a very great sin; and he felt that he must confess and forsake it, or he would never find mercy.
So, in the presence of others at the prayer-meeting, he cried to God, in his broad Yorkshire dialect, "O Lord, hea maysey on me, and ah will nivver grund nea mair o' Sunday." Of course poor penitent Robert meant that he would not grind any more corn for his worldly master on the Lord's Day, if the Lord would only forgive him for the past, and save his soul. This petition he repeated many times, until He, who does not despise a broken and contrite heart, heard and answered his earnest prayer, by giving him to see that Christ Jesus had died for him; and filling his heart with peace and joy through believing in Him.
Now came the trial of his faith. Robert frankly told his master, that, being, saved, he meant to lead a different life; and that now he could no more set the mill going on the Lord's day. He was sorry if this should displease his master, but he must now obey the Lord at all cost, and, besides, he had promised the Lord not to do it again. His master, who had more thought for his own business than for Robert's spiritual benefit, saw no harm in having the mill going a little on the Lord's Day. Should the water be running over the mill-dam to waste, what sin could there be in turning it over the wheel in order to grind the corn, to make bread?
Robert stood firm, however, as to Sunday grinding, but he was quite willing to meet his master's wish, so far as he was able to do it with a good conscience. He would keep the mill going up to midnight on the Saturday, and start it again directly after midnight on the Monday morning.
This proposal his master accepted, as he valued Robert as a faithful servant. Thus Robert's path was made clear, and he was as happy as the day is long.
He had occasionally to go to the houses of the farmers to fetch their corn for grinding, and to take it back when ground. His heart was full of joy; when he heard the birds singing in the hedges by the wayside, or in the trees, he thought they sang of Jesus, indeed, everything spoke to him of Jesus. Even in the old mill he heard the name of Jesus, for when the bell rang for more corn in the hopper, Robert thought that it sounded the name of Jesus.
The “hopper" is a wooden receptacle in the shape of a round tub, rather narrower at its lower end, where the corn issues to pass between the millstones. A small bell is fixed near the bottom of this, and when the hopper is full the bell is silent, but as soon as the corn passes below it, the shaking motion given to the hopper to keep the corn passing through it, rings the bell, and gives the signal for more “grist to the mill."
Christ filled the heart of Robert, in the mill, or out of it, a constant unfailing spring—"A well of water springing up into everlasting life."
Robert stayed with his master as long as he lived, which was not many years, for his constitution was not robust. The dust of the mill injured his lungs, yet he continued his duty as long as he could, and his master kindly kept on his faithful servant to the last. Robert passed away in triumph, to see the One who had loved him, and who had given him such heavenly joy even on earth. G. R.