AN old Christian used to say to me, “Is anything too wonderful for Him to do whose name is ‘Wonderful’?” Cowper, bent on suicide, was prevented from doing so in such a remarkable way that he wrote —
“God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.”
Every saved soul is a miracle of grace. Some, however, are arrested in such remarkable ways that they are compelled to say, “Wonderful, that God ever had mercy on me!” Such a one was X —, a tall, robust man, who climbed on board an American trading vessel, and offered himself as a seaman. The vessel was just about to sail, and the captain very short of hands, so he gladly engaged him. They had not been long at sea before he regretted having done so. The captain himself was a most ungodly man, and was prepared to go to great lengths in sin, but this man seemed a demon incarnate. He had a most intractable disposition, a quarrelsome temper, was a drunkard, and a most awful blasphemer. He refused to give any account of his past history, and had evidently come aboard to get a passage to America. The captain soon found he was no sailor, and ignorant as a child of nautical matters. He became the bane and plague of the vessel.
After a time a violent storm arose. The vessel was in imminent danger. The captain summoned all hands on deck. All appeared except the wretched blasphemer. The captain went below to seek him. David speaks of the “stormy wind fulfilling God’s word.” That storm had raised another in the conscience of the swearer. The captain found him on his knees repeating the Lord’s prayer with wonderful rapidity over and over again. This appeared to be the only prayer he knew, and by repeated reiterations he hoped to allay the fears he felt at the prospect of eternity. The captain was so annoyed that he shook him by the shoulder, and said, “Say your prayers in fair weather.” “God grant I may ever see fair weather to say them,” he replied in a low voice. Those words never left him. “Say your prayers in fair weather” followed him everywhere. The storm abated, but not the storm in his conscience. The vessel reached its destination in safety, but there was no rest for him. He came ashore, but still no peace. At last he found it was not by praying but believing; not in his cries for mercy, but that mercy had provided a Saviour, a real living Saviour who died for his sins, and was raised again for his justification. He was saved. A great longing to tell this great salvation filled his heart. The stormy wind that had driven him to the harbor of salvation for safety had filled his soul with concern for other tempest-tossed mariners sailing on the sea of death to eternal judgment. He gave himself wholly to the Lord. He became an earnest and devoted evangelist, and was greatly blessed.
We will leave him preaching to a crowded audience, and return to the captain. Four or five years had elapsed since he told the seaman to pray in fair weather. All this time he had been going deeper and deeper down the dark paths of sin. God had given him many warnings. A falling spar did him grievous bodily harm. Twice he had been shipwrecked, but neither in fair weather nor foul had he cried to God. He had just finished a long and dangerous voyage, and having landed in New York, had determined to have his fling. He bent his steps toward a tavern where he frequently had indulged his sinful propensities. On his way he met an old friend, the boon companion of many a sinful hour. The captain was delighted to see him, and declared he must accompany him, there and then, to his tavern. With great calmness his friend replied, “I will do so on condition that you come into this place with me for a single hour, and thank God for His mercies to you on the deep.” The captain was ashamed to refuse. They entered together. The place was crowded; with great difficulty they forced their way to about five yards distance from the preacher.
There was something about the man which riveted the attention of the captain, but he could not remember where or when he had seen him. At length the preacher’s eyes fell upon the two friends. He suddenly paused, gazed upon the captain, as if to make sure that it was not an optical delusion, and then shouted out in stentorian tones, “Say your prayers in fair weather.”
The congregation were amazed. The preacher stopped overcome with emotion. After some time he recovered himself, and told his audience of the way God had first spoken to him by the storm, and the words the captain had used. He then asked them all to join in prayer with him that God would save the man who uttered those words, telling them that he was now present. God had, however, outrun their petitions. The power of the Spirit had effectually wrought, the captain was saved there and then. He left that meeting a new creature in Christ Jesus. Instead of going with his friend to the tavern, he repaired to the house of the preacher. There he stayed six weeks. When he left, it was to pursue his avocation, and carry on his profession, not now a godless profligate, but a holy and happy servant of Christ. The one from whom I got this account knew him, and says that as years advanced, he also advanced in the knowledge of the Saviour, and became more and more devoted to His interests.
Were they not both wonders of grace? Reader, are you? It may be God has not spoken in just the same way to you, but no doubt God has often spoken to you. “See that ye refuse not him that speaketh.” “How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?” Turn to that blessed Saviour. Trust Him now, and you shall join in the song which celebrates the “wonders” of redeeming love.
H. N.