ROBERT was an old salt; he knew ships, from a man-o'-war to a rowing boat. He was in his third score year when I saw him. He lived in a seaside town, and kept a coffeehouse; in addition to which, he had a stall outside the barracks, where he sold cakes and other good things to the satisfaction of the soldiers, and also of the children who came to the seaside. Beside that barrow we had some pleasant talks.
Robert saw what harm the drink did, and, though he had signed no pledge, he believed in and practiced total abstinence.
“One cold day they wanted me to have some rum and milk," said he, "but by God's help I said ‘No,' and I got more stimulant out of that victory than I should from any spirits." He believed in Christianity being a real power.
"To teach men to be religious without giving them the real force is like training men as soldiers, placing them in front of the enemy, and then not supplying them with ammunition." How foolish and fatal!
One morning he gave me quite a sermon on Saul, Goliath, and David.
"They are three characters," said he. "Saul was man's man, tall, grand, fine—human perfection; Goliath was the devil's man, more than a match for man's man; the one, perhaps, seven feet high, while the other was a nine-foot warrior. . So man's man was afraid, and not able to fight. But now comes God's man, David, a youth, despised, weak ; but as he slings the stone he seems to say, God will direct it,' and God did direct it, for He hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty ; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are : that no flesh should glory in His presence.'" (1 Cor. 1:27-2927But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; 28And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: 29That no flesh should glory in his presence. (1 Corinthians 1:27‑29)) One day he said to me," Christ was born for me; Christ lay in a cradle for me; Christ grew up for me; Christ lived for me; Christ suffered for me; Christ died for me ; Christ rose for me, and now Christ lives for me."
As a result of believing this, he continued: “Suppose somebody says, Are you one of those righteous ones?” I should answer, Christ is my righteousness.' Are you one of those redeemed ones?" Christ is my redemption.' Are you one of those sanctified ones?' 'Christ is my sanctification.' All is in Him, and this prevents pride."
Robert believed in speaking out, and did it, even to the customers who stayed at his house. One Sunday morning he was talking to a young man, and happened to say, "I shall never die: I shall go to sleep when I am tired: and it does not matter if I have a moment's notice or a thousand years: I am ready."
A gentleman, who was in his coffee-house, overheard the remark, and was much excited by it.
"What! what! what's this?" said he; "you don't know what you are talking about."
Robert did, though the gentleman, who could boast of being a doctor, did not. So the doctor proceeded. "I see you have a hobby, and you ride it to death. The sooner you kill it the better." He then stated that he was an unbeliever, the editor of a paper issued expressly to put down this Jesus, whom our friend loved, and that he was training a class of young men to do the same.
"You put me in mind of a celebrated man who lived eighteen hundred years ago," said Robert, "who was struck down in the middle of his occupation, which, like yours, was trying to destroy the faith of Jesus. He was forced to give it up. You had better do the same."
"I know whom you mean," replied the doctor.
“Why, Saul of Tarsus," replied the coffeehouse keeper.
“I do not believe in that book," retorted the doctor.
“Have you read it through?” queried the simple Christian.
“No, I have not."
"If I condemned your paper without reading it, what would you say?”
“It would not be right."
"Then it is unrighteous for you to condemn God's book without ever having honestly read it. But if you deny the Bible, may I ask what is your standard of morals”
“Conscience," said the doctor.
The Lord gave Robert a first-rate reply. “That won't do: conscience is a good monitor, but a bad guide, for it generally only tells a man he is wrong after the job is done: it does not help to avoid the evil. My Bible sets me a far higher standard. You are going to Boulogne, sir."
“Yes."
“What for? To visit the widows, look after the sick and poor, and teach ragged children?"
“No, to enjoy myself," said the doctor. "I have been hard worked, and need a holiday."
"Your conscience prompts you to seek your own good. God's word teaches His people to seek the good of the outcast: really, I do not value your standard of morals, your conscience."
Having thus far drawn near to the giant, Robert proceeded to sling a stone.
“Now, doctor, I was born fifty-two years ago, and this is my birthday. I have been all over the globe; I have eaten and drunk with all sorts. But twelve years ago I was born again, and led to turn my back upon all I had formerly followed. I found a Friend, who invited me to Himself when I was in trouble, and when others did not want me. This Friend has helped me, prospered me, blessed me, and made me happy; but if I accept your teaching I have been fooled and deceived, and am only fit for a lunatic asylum for my peace and joy during the past twelve years. Suppose I do give it up, and take you for my savior, what will you do for me?”
The doctor was silent; and Robert, the sailor, proceeded—
“Will you invite me to call upon you in distress? May I come to you in trouble? I tell you I shall be a troublesome customer. If you promise, can I depend upon you to fulfill your promises? I shall want to see your banking account, to know your position and character. Then there are my children; I shall want you to look after them, and be such as I can recommend them to follow."
The infidel walked toward the door in a rage; but Robert had a kind word for him.
“Doctor, pardon me, one thing more. God loves you. You say you won't have His love, yet you must, for if you were not, even now, receiving of His love in the breath you draw, you would fall a dead man. Yield to His love in Christ Jesus, and be saved."
It was too much. The doctor swore, packed up his things, and left the house.
Thank God for such simple-hearted, true-hearted, whole-hearted witnesses as Robert, the old salt. W. L.