WALKING along the other evening, I was overtaken by a man, of whom I asked my way. After telling me, he showed no sign of going on, so I offered him a tract. “Oh,” he said, “I see the road you are going.” “Yes,”
I replied, “it is a blessed thing to be going to heaven.” He assented, and then went on to say, “I was converted six years ago, by a paper like this” (alluding to the tract I had given him) “that was blown between my feet in New Zealand.” I said I should like to hear the story, and he continued: ― “It was one windy day, it was blown between my feet on the street. Something seemed to say, ‘Pick it up, and it will put you right.’ I swore I would not, and moved away about the length of that lamp-post (pointing to the next one on the road); but something still said, ‘Pick it up, and it will put you right,’ and though I swore I wouldn’t, I had to turn back and pick it up. It had a hymn printed on it, called, ‘I always go to Jesus;’ and conscience asked, Do you always go to Jesus? I was obliged to own I did not, so I went to Him then, and He has saved me.”
I was thankful to hear this simple story of God’s dealings with this poor stubborn sinner, and proceeded to inquire had he been very bad before God thus met him. Outwardly he had not, and he told me he had had convictions of sin for years, but would not let anyone speak to him; in fact, he had been resisting the strivings of the Spirit of God. “Well,” I said, “do you ever have doubts and fears now?” He owned he had. “Why do you not look at the receipt, then?” I asked him. “So I do,” he replied. “What is it?” I said. “Why, the blood of Christ,” was the reply. “No,” said I; “that is the money the debt is paid with, the receipt is the risen Christ. God has raised Him for our justification, and His resurrection is full discharge, or the receipt for the debt we owed.” “Well,” he replied, “I never knew that before.” We had some more conversation before parting, but it was clear he was a child of God by faith in Christ Jesus. Reader, are you?
M.