What a strange title! perhaps some may remark. Well, I did not give the name of “Sailor Jim” to him who was saved by the grace of God; his simple story I write for other sailors like him, and it was Jim who always styled himself “My first Soul.”
I had been but a short time converted and was very ignorant of the word of God, indeed, I scarcely knew where to turn for a passage or verse save those few grand verses that the Lord had pointed me to; when in agony of soul I cried to Him, “What must I do to be saved?” and the answer came with healing on its wings, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved” (Acts 16), and, “Look unto me and be ye saved” (Isa. 45:2222Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else. (Isaiah 45:22)). But, though very ignorant even of God’s plan of salvation, I knew He had saved me, and that on the ground of Christ’s death and resurrection God had offered to me, a sinner, the gift of eternal life, and I had by grace accepted it. Never did a doubt cross my mind as to whether I was really saved or not; God had said it, and that was enough for me. Having found peace through the certainty of sin having forever been put away by the sacrifice of Christ, and the assurance that my debt had been fully paid by another, my soul rested upon that blessed word, “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which I are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:11There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. (Romans 8:1)). Soon an intense longing filled me to carry the glad tidings of Jesus, the Saviour, to others, and I cried daily to God, “O God, send me with a message from Thyself to some soul.” In my ignorance of the grace of God, I even said, “Lord, make me the means of blessing to one soul, just one soul, and then let me die.” I had few opportunities of speaking to souls: too timid to talk to those around me, or to any I met outside, I still longed after that one soul, and in confidence continued to cry to God by day, and often by night, for the one to whom I was to carry His message. The answer came in a way I had little expected, and to the God of Grace, who hears and answers some of our most ignorant prayers, be all the praise.
James H., or “Sailor Jim,” as his companions called him, had long lived near us. I had often seen him pass up and down, and he was known by me only as a man who was seldom, if ever, sober; the unsteady step, the bloated face, the restless eye, told their own tales; he was a drunkard. I had always a deep compassion for such men, and for their wives and families, but I would have trembled to speak to one of his character, and the thought of going to his house, though but a few doors from us, had never entered my mind. Sailor Jim spent only part of his life at home; during that time he drank the wages he made on his short sea voyages, and his pale, sad wife and sickly children could tell their own tale of want and bitterness to any who had a look of pity for the drunkard’s wife and barns. One day, as I sat with my work near the window, a noise in the street attracted my attention, it was the rude, boisterous mirth of Sailor Jim on his way home with a companion in his sin. I prayed as I stood at the window, “Lord save him from hell,” and at once I seemed given the message, “Go and tell him of Christ.” I shrank from it.
“What!” I said, “how could I go? Send someone else, but not me.” I tried to forget Jim, but for two days and a night I was haunted by these words, “Go and tell Jim of Christ.” I was young and unaccustomed to visit the houses of the poor, and the thought of a drunkard’s home terrified me. I had seen him, I had heard his oaths and coarse language as he passed in the street, and I trembled to think I must meet that man, face to face; but the words rang in my ears, “Go and speak to him of Christ.” The next day, in much fear and not knowing what I was to say, I started for Jim’s house; It was quite near and easy of access.
I wished there had been some barrier or obstruction in the way to give me an excuse for not going, and I oft repeated, “This cannot be the soul I have prayed for.” As I went down the narrow passage and up the outside broken stair that led to his house I trembled, but a word seemed given me, “You have only to deliver God’s message,” and fear fled. I knocked and the door was quickly opened by a pale, sad-looking woman, who nervously started when I asked if her husband was at home. “Yes,” she said, “but he cannot see you, he is ill.” With a sense of relief, I was just going to say, “I shall come again,” when a voice from within called out in a husky, unpleasant tone, “Come in, I must see you.” Looking to God for strength, I went in.
I was struck with the air of poverty; not dirt.
In the little kitchen the furniture was scanty, a sickly child sat by the fire, her little head resting on her wasted hand, and her sunken eyes and startled, weary-looking face marked her a drunkard’s bairn. I stood to speak to her, but, the voice of Jim, in loud, angry accents, called, “Come in, I tell you, come in.” I passed into the little room beyond. On the bed lay, Jim, his bloated face more terrible to me than usual. “Shut that door, Tom,” he shouted.
I closed it, and said, “It’s not Tom.” In a moment he seemed sobered. Astonished to find I was not the companion he was looking for, he scarcely knew what to say. “May I sit down beside you?” I asked. “If you like to sit beside a drunken fellow like me.” “James,” I said, “I have not come to speak to you about drunkenness at present, I have come with a message from God to you.” “I hate God,” he answered, “He knows that.” I said, “But His message to you is one of love. He has sent me to tell you that He so loved you, that He gave His on to die for you, and that now, on the spot, before you leave that bed, before you even go on the sea again, He wishes to save your soul.”
“If that’s true,” he answered, “that’s the best message I ever got, but it’s not likely that the God I’ve been blaspheming for years should send you with a message to me, as I lie here half drunk.” I then told him simply how the Lord had saved me, and given me a great desire to be sent with the glad tidings of salvation to someone else, and that I believed he was the man God was going to bless. He was much moved, tears ran down his cheeks, and when I rose to leave he pressed me to return. I gave him a little tract, called “Pray for the Drunkard;” it was scarcely the kind of tract I would have given now to one in Jim’s state, there was little of Christ in it, it was an appeal to those, who knew Christ, to pray for the drunkard. I had written it some little time before on seeing a poor drunkard reel out of a public house and call upon the passers by to save him from hell; it was the only tract I had in my pocket, and I left it. The Lord in his infinite grace used it, and the few words spoken for the salvation of poor Jim.
Early next day his little boy was at our door with the message, “Could you come and see my father?” No longer trembling I ran up Jim’s broken stair, he met me at the door, and, with sailor warmth, shook me again and again by both hands, saying, “Well, God bless you, I’m your first soul; may you win many more. I am saved simply through believing what Christ has done. He gave His life for me and I’ve been hating Him and killing my poor Betsy and the children all this time, but she’ll come to Christ too, and we’ll all be happy together.” A shade passed over his face, and he said, “I wish to speak to you alone.” We went into the little back room, where we had our first conversation.
As the light fell upon his face, I observed for the first time he looked very ill, and that the bloated appearance had given place to a livid hue, his lips were bloodless, and his whole frame shook. He was a man in the prime of life, but sin had wasted a once strong and manly frame.
“James,” I said, “you are ill.” “That’s a small matter; the Doctor says I have heart disease, but it is not that I want to speak about. I know my soul is saved, but how am I to escape the drink? If I ever go out again I’ll fall as sure as I am alive, and what dishonor that will bring on Christ’s name.” So saying, he laid his head on the table and wept like a child. I felt powerless to speak to him for a few moments, and looked to God for words to meet his case.
“James,” I said, “Have you trusted God fully with your soul?” “Yes, yes,” he answered, “and I wish He would take me safe home this minute. I can trust Him with the wife and bairns, but I cannot trust myself to keep from that cursed drink, which has all but had me in hell. O, you don’t know what it is, dear lady, the thirst for it, the craving for it, is on me now, and, at times, I would even sell my wife and children for a glass of grog.” “O James,” I said, “This is terrible, but the One who has saved your soul can keep you from this too. Will you trust him about this?” I knelt down to ask help from the Lord for such a case.
In a moment James was by my side, and in heartrending accents was crying to God, as only a saved soul could cry for deliverance from the power of this awful temptation. As he roses from his knees he said, “Now I can trust Him for both soul and body, I’m not afraid to go out now, nor on the sea either, though it is worse than the land; I sec Christ is enough for, every temptation, only I wish He would take me safe home.”
The next day James was laid on a bed of sickness Which kept him indoors for many weeks, “No doubt,” he would often say to me, “this illness came to keep me from the temptations outside: I dreaded, and that I might learn of Him who more to me than all that earth could give.”
We often read together, and it was beautiful to see how the grace of God shone out in poor Jim. He longed after other souls, and used, to urge me to speak to the drunkard especially.
“Ah,” he would say, “I’m your first soul, but not your last; do not rest satisfied with one soul. The poor drunkards I only wish to go out again to tell them of One who does love them; for the drunkard believes that God hates him, and that everybody else turns from him too.”
In a few weeks James was better and ready to go to sea, and I saw him less frequently than before; but his house no longer bore the aspect of a drunkard’s home, the wife and children were neat and clean, the sick bairn had sundry little comforts provided for her, and James had ever a cheerful word about the Lord when we met. Many were his little love tokens to me; scarcely a voyage that he did not bring me something; a shell, a pin-cushion, a heart made of pebble, were all gifts to remind me of “My first Soul,” as he said. He had given me his likeness, in a large wooden frame, soon after he was converted, but, a few weeks later, he asked me to return it, saying, “you must not keep that, I was not sober the day it was taken, besides, it was the likeness of one who hated Christ, and I wish to destroy it.”
One day I saw him, just as he was starting on one of his short voyages, and we had a happy time over the word, which had now become his delight, ere we parted. A few days after a message came to me, “Come and see Betsy H., her husband is dead.” I hastened to her. Through her tears she told me she had had sad news that morning; Jim’s ship had reached London docks, with his lifeless body― “Sailor Jim” was dead!
I could weep with that sorrowful widow, but with joy I could say with certainty, “He is with the Lord.” His comrade brought but a few particulars, but these were full of interest. He said, “Jim was lacing his boot upon deck, when he fell back, and called out to me, ‘Bill, come here, I know I’m dying; but in a few moments I shall be with the Lord. Tell my wife to give her heart to Christ, and tell the lady who told me of Him, I’m safe home.’ He then raised his hand and smiled, and was gone to be forever with the Lord.”
I have written this story for sailors, or for any who may not know Christ, whether sober or drunken, whether your life is spent on land or water. If you are unconverted you are on the road to hell as he was; but the grace that met him and saved him, cries to you, “Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow, though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool” (Isa. 1:1818Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. (Isaiah 1:18)). Won’t you come now? Soon the day of grace will be over for you, and in eternity you will forever regret, when too late, that you rejected Christ. Listen to the voice of Jesus speaking to you, “Come, come! Come unto me! Ye will not come to me that ye might have life.” God desires to save you, “Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim. 2:44Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth. (1 Timothy 2:4)).
Flee from the wrath to come! In a moment, like Jim, you may be called from earth. Be ye also ready!
K.