P. WAS a farm laborer; he had beer very ill, and on his recovery a Christian friend sent him to a convalescent home at the seaside. When P. reached the “home” he said but little, and the matron did not see much of him, except at the regular occasion for morning and evening prayer and reading the Scriptures.
At about the end of a week he requested the matron to write a letter to his wife, as la was unable to read or to write himself.
“Is your wife a Christian?” asked the matron as she sat down to write the letter.
“Well, ma’am,” said P., in his quaint country way, “if you’d asked me that a week ago, I’d have said she was, but I find she ar’n’t. She be respectable, and reads her Bible of a Sunday, and sends the little ‘uns to school, but I find she ar’n’t a Christian.”
“But are you a Christian yourself, P.?” inquired the matron.
“Yes, I be! Yes, I be!” replied he, earnestly.
“And how long have you been one?”
“Well, the night I came in here you read about the thief and the robber climbing up the wrong way” (the tenth chapter of John had been read that night), “and what you said about it did cut me up. I went upstairs, and fell upon my knees, and kept on asking on Him, and asking on Him. I burnt the candle out, for I felt so bad I couldn’t go to bed. ‘Lord,’ I said, ‘if I don’t ask Thee right, tell me on it.’ But we settled it, and I’ve got something here,” placing his hand on his breast, “that I never had afore. I be so happy!”
Then the letter to his wife was commenced, and, after sending “respects” to one and another, P. said, “Now I want you to tell her about the Lord. I want her to set her face heavenward with me and all the little ‘uns.” This was done. The letter was sent, and the reply was eagerly watched for by our friend.
At last it came. His wife expressed her gladness at his being happy at the home, but made no reference to his appeal to her soul, and P. was sadly disappointed.
On the evening before he left the home, at the close of the usual meeting, he said he would like to give the Lord thanks. As nearly as can be remembered, these were his utterances, mingled with many tears, and indeed those who heard him could but weep too. “Oh! Lord, I do thank Thee for bringing me down here. You’ve taken my feet out of the horrible pit and miry clay and set them upon a rock. Oh Lord, I do thank Thee. Now, Lord, do save my wife and all my little ‘uns, and give me grace to go back and shake hands with Mr. T. (a foreman with whom P. had not got on very well), and tell him and all my mates what you have done for me. Bless the home, Lord, do, and save all that are in it.”
Two years Afterward we visited the village where P. lived, and found him rejoicing in Christ, and bearing persecution for His Name’s sake.
This narrative of P.’s conversion illustrates the truth of Zech. 4:6― “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.” It is not necessary to be able to read in order to be saved. Where there is a soul thirsting for God’s salvation, or ready to believe on Christ, when the truth concerning Him is heard, we may rest assured that God will bring His truth to the heart, as He did in the case of our friend P. But, oh! how much more does this increase the responsibility of those who have God’s word in their hands and are able to read all that God has said to us.
During the time P. was in the home a blind woman was there also. She said that she had loved Jesus all her life, and she rained satisfied with herself without Christ. P. felt she was not right, and he used to strive to show her that she was not only physically, but spiritually blind. “Tell her it out as plain as ever you can,” said he to the matron, “for she ar’n’t saved.”
Now each of our readers is either like the farm laborer, who felt his need of Christ, or like this blind woman who was satisfied to remain in spiritual darkness. Oh! be wise while there is time, and take your place before God as a guilty, lost sinner, and trust in the finished work of Christ for pardon and salvation. W. W. H.