A REMARKABLE story of the infinite grace of God occurs in some of the missionary magazines, and from them we cull the following incidents. We especially direct our readers' attention to the way in which God the Holy Spirit worked in the heart of the subjects of the story. It is a way in which He is now working in different heathen lands, in China, for example, and also amongst the Jews. He convinces of sin, and leads the awakened soul by strange providences to find in the Holy Scriptures the answer for every fear. The conviction of sin occurs while the subject of divine grace is still a heathen or a Jew, and the anxious and longing heart, after seeking rest by a variety of efforts, is led in due time to the fountains of living water.
The subjects of our story are an Afghan saint, or holy man, and his son, a Mohammedan priest. These saints are fierce disciples of Mohammed, and their saintliness expresses itself, among other ways, in that of murdering heretics. The Afghans are a wild and hot-blooded race, impulsive and desperate. The two pictures upon these pages, one of a fruit-seller, the other of warriors, give a good idea of the hill tribesmen of India.
The son of this saint of our story became a priest, and the incumbent of a mosque. There he read the Koran. But while a priest, the sense of the darkness of sin fell upon his soul; a ray of divine light had shone into his heart and made the darkness sensible to him, the darkness of his own sinful and evil self. He read the Koran again and again, but neither light, hope, nor help did it afford him. Now in the Koran there is a chapter called “The Table," and in it God is made to say to Mohammed, “Verily have we sent down the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, which contain direction and light."
Our Afghan priest said within himself, "Had I these books I might obtain what I want—direction and light." But what was he to do? Where were "the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament” to be obtained?
Now in British India, in the Hazara district, not far from the village of our saint and his son, there is a postmaster who is a Hindu. Our Mohammedan priest spoke to him one day about these books. From him he learned that Jesus Christ had not taken up to heaven with Him the Old and New Testaments, when He ascended thither, as the Mohammedans teach, "for," said the postmaster, “I myself was taught out of them in my youth in a school in Lahore."
The priest anxiously enquired what the postmaster knew of these books. The answer was carelessly given, “It was all about the forgiveness of sins, and that sort of thing." The very thing the priest longed to know, but which the postmaster cared not for.
How should these wonderful books be found, was now the one longing wish of the man seeking the knowledge of the forgiveness of sins, which the Koran could not afford.
Now at this time, in the providence of God, a zealous and wise Christian lady, a true missionary, and her friend, being in delicate health, sought the mountain air of the Hazara country, in the hope of obtaining renewed vigor.
The Hindu postmaster, hearing of her arrival, at once sent a messenger to his friend, the Mohammedan priest, and he, waiting neither for food nor preparation, set off, nor rested until he stood before the ladies. He immediately asked for the Testament. They handed him the Gospel by St. John. The wonderful book was not in heaven, it was in his very hands!
At once he sat down and read it. A notable picture is this for English Bible possessors to look upon. Behold this priest, caring neither for food nor rest, but caring only for the direction and the light God's word affords! Behold the Christian congregation listening to the Christian teacher as he tells them the Bible is not the truth, though the truth lies in the Bible! He sat down and read. He searched for life and food. Nor did he read in vain, for the light of life shone into his soul. He believed on Jesus; he knew he was pardoned. He was free!
In time, after his return home, an illness seized him. “Thy breath is going," said his father, the saint; " say, there is no God but God, and Mohammed is His prophet,' and ascend to paradise."
"There is no God but God, and Christ, His Son, is the Savior of men," gasped the apparently dying man; "and Mohammed is a vile impostor."
“Impious wretch!" cried his father, and, as he cursed him, said,” Were it not that in a few minutes thou must die, I would myself cut thy throat for that blasphemy."
A few days after, his cousin said to A., “We have been lads together, and have played together, and have been as brothers; so I tell you I have been told to cut your throat to-night, and, if you are fool enough to be here then, cut it I shall." Ill as A. was, he made off, and by night was far away on his journey to a Christian mission. He came under the care of Dr. Clark, and, at his own desire, was baptized.
In time the event reached his father's ears, and he offered a large reward to anyone who would kill his son. However, at the bottom of his wild, rough heart, love to his son was to be found.
A. was living several miles away from his old home, and the father came by train to see his son. He cursed him, and threatened him. But, as he had six hours to wait for his return train, he remained in his son's company. After a while, on the son pleading with, "Come, see my spiritual father," the old man consented, saying, "Yes, I will, that I may curse him also!"
But the greeting that awaited the saint, as he paused on the threshold of Dr. Clark's house, overwhelmed him. It was this— "Welcome, most honored guest."
“Am I indeed welcome?” said the saint, whose mission was to curse.
“Yea, verily, even as cold water to a thirsty soul."
"Then," responded the old man, "in the name of God, peace be to thee and thy household."
The train back did not carry A.'s father home. He stayed for ten days in the teacher's house, and before he left said" The lad is thine, not mine. Christianity is not so bad as I thought it. He has done right. None shall harm him. But," he added, "if he returns to his own land, I must myself cut his throat—how else could I remain a saint?”
Dr. Clark then gave a New Testament to the saint, who departed to his own land. On his return he read the book with deep attention. In time, twelve other learned men joined him, and they all read it together and did so many times. Indeed, their hearts were filled and their minds astonished with its truth.
One day the saint called again. He hardly noticed the kindly greeting of the doctor, “I am not thy guest," said he, “I come not to stay, I am on a message to thee." He then related how he and the others had read the book, adding, “We noticed that it is called the New Testament, which makes us think there must be an Old. If it exists, in the name of God give it to me; if it does not, tell me. Hinder me not; let me return to those who sent me."
He stayed merely long enough to obtain the Old Testament, and again departed.
After some time he returned, saying, “I am come to be thy guest," and he was made welcome. Now it had been his custom to read the Koran daily for two hours, and when the time came for this duty, the book was brought to him. “Let it wait," he said,” I will look at it by-and-by."
Dr. Clark looked on in amazement, and the old Afghan said, "Since I read the other book my relish for this is gone;" and presently he declared, “Why need I hide it any longer? I, too, am now a Christian. The God of my son is my God."