One summer Sunday morning in a town in northern England, a tract distributor saw a group of men standing at a street corner, and he gave to each of them one of his booklets. One of them, the joker of the party, said, "What's good for the soul must be good for the body," and he wadded up his tract and popped it into his mouth and began to chew it.
Of course, all his friends laughed, which was what he wanted, but they also insisted that he should not only chew it but swallow it so that he might get all the good that was in it. Not to spoil the joke, he did swallow it, saying that was nearly "opening time" at the pub, and he would be able to "wash it down with a pint of the best."
Now that tract upset the man most terribly. Not his digestion—that was all right—but his conscience. He could not help thinking that he had done a silly thing and had been rude to the man who had given him the tract. Worst of all, he had despised God's gospel and made a joke of it. He worried about it, and wished he had not done it.
The evening, came, and he thought he would atone for it by going to the gospel service that the tract distributor had told the men he was going to hold. He went, and was brought to Christ, and was given another tract. This one he took home, not to eat, but to read to the blessing of his soul.
He had an entertaining way of telling his story, and more than once I have laughed at his account of how the tract in his stomach led to the conversion of his soul. I have laughed, not because of the silly joke it was in the beginning, but because of the way God used it in the end.
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