A group of crippled children had been taken from an institution on the east end of London for a brief holiday at the seashore. After a happy day on the beach, they were taken to their cottage nearby and were being prepared for their night's rest.
Not far from these happy little sufferers another visitor to the seaside was watching the curtain of night fall over the beautiful scene. She too was a sufferer, a spiritual cripple, and had come from a hectic, careless, godless life in London to this quiet seaside resort in search of peace and rest. Her life heretofore had had no thought of God in it, 'although she had often heard the appeals of His servants in the gospel of His grace.
Now, as she strolled along, some words of the Psalmist came unbidden to her mind: "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth His handiwork.”
"How odd," she thought, "that I should remember that verse! I haven't thought of it since I learned it in Sunday school years ago.”
Just then, clear and sweet above the muted roar of the waves, she became aware of another sound—the voices of children singing. As she listened, clearly and distinctly came the words:
"Jesus is calling the weary to rest—
Calling today, calling today;
Bring Him thy burden, and thou shalt be blest;
He will not turn thee away.”
The listener on the beach seemed riveted to the spot.
The spirit of God was striving with her. Her past ungodly life came before her and she realized what a sinner she was in the eyes of God. She knew, of course, that Christ died for sinners; but never in all her life had the truth been brought home to her mind that HE HAD INDEED DIED FOR HER.
Satan urged her to pay no heed to the song which so deeply was stirring her soul, but it seemed impossible for her to move until the hymn was finished. An unforgettable sense of the awful solemnity of this moment stole over her as she listened to the next verse.
"Jesus is waiting, oh come to Him now—
Waiting today, waiting today;
Come with thy sins, at His feet lowly bow;
Come, and no longer delay.”
She could resist the Spirit's pleadings no longer. That night on the seashore she trusted the Savior of sinners. A simple song sung at bedtime by a happy group of crippled children had been the means of her conversion. Well may we say:
"God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform.
He plants His footsteps on the sea
And rides upon the storm.”