By the Editor
IN the April number of “Message from God” I had an article on “Card-playing, Dancing and Theatergoing,” and another article on “The Influence of the Dance.” A gentleman wrote me a letter in which he said he had read the articles “with surprise and some indignation.” He went on to defend card-playing, dancing and theater-going―he saw no harm in them at all―and he thought the point is “are we serving our generation to the best of our ability, so that we are not afraid to meet Him face to face.” I liked the tone of his letter―it was the letter of an honest man. I shall pray God to lead him to Christ and to teach him the great lessons of Christian living.
For his sake and the sake of others I am printing the true story of men led into awful sin through the influence of card-playing, etc.
Frank Gray
A drizzling rain was falling when Mrs. Gray set out on an important mission. The thin white-faced woman of fifty, in a black shawl and bonnet, trudging along in the rain, was a woman who walked and talked with God, who loved Christ, and lived Christ. She was not loved by everybody. Her mission was to call on a new minister in the town she lived. A very popular and talented young man, a bachelor, who boarded in the best house in town, and had plenty of visitors. He sat in an easy chair reading. ‘Why Mrs. Gray, what brings you out this dismal day?” “Not pleasant business, Mr. Ellis.” “Dear me! dear me! sickness?” “No, worse than that.” “Indeed!” and he looked with astonishment into her sorrow-stricken face.
“I will be brief, Mr. Ellis. Is it true, that when my son sought your advice about card playing you sanctioned it?” “Yes―oh, yes―I remember―dear young fellow―I regard it as a little harmless recreation, never playing for money―oh, dear, no―not a cent, Mrs. Gray! I thoroughly disapprove of that. But why so solemn and serious about this matter? He is a steady, earnest young fellow, is he not?”
Mrs. Gray hesitated, and there was a tremor in her voice when she said, “Steady now; but you have made a mistake Mr. Ellis, and may God forgive you, as I do. I fear you have done my son incalculable injury, and God only knows where it will end. He is hardly twenty-one, and has made a profession of being a Christian for three years, and until you came regarded card-playing as unwise, and as dangerous to a Christian as theater-going. Quite recently his most intimate friends, the Laytons, have taken to card-playing, and when they urged him, he again and again refused, until they said, ‘You ask Mr. Ellis — he plays; and surely if he, a minister, can, you might.’ He came to you and the result is that ever since he has spent more time at cards than in prayer. I thank God, that his father, who was a godly man is spared the grief of seeing his only son with a pack of cards in his hand.”
“My dear Mrs. Gray, you hold very morbid views of things. I venture to call such views strait-laced cant. Things are changed, and times different. Young men want amusement, and ministers have to be all things to all men.”
“Mr. Ellis, I did not come to argue whether it is lawful or unlawful for a man of God to be a card-player. The dear old Bible settled that lone ago, and the awful and disastrous results of card-playing have shown, with most emphatic confirmation, that followers of the Lord Jesus Christ ought to come out and be separate from the world, and touch not the unclean thing; for if there be an unclean thing it is card-playing, which in nine cases out of ten leads to gambling, which is deplorable, whether seen in gambling hells or in respectable homes of professedly Christian people. Mr. Ellis, you are young, and you do not know what you are doing, but if you are an honest man, and will let the Holy Spirit teach you, you will speedily, regret your advice. But remember, you can never undo. Our best actions and our worst actions live forever. When you and I take our places in the glorified throng we cannot leave those heights to undo the mischief our example and our words did here. ‘Let no man put a stumbling-block or an occasion to fall in his brother’s way!’ This card-playing may be the ruin of my boy; but a mother’s prayers shall rise for him continually; and for you that God may deal graciously and mercifully with you. Thank you for courteously listening. Farewell.”
The young minister made no answer. Even offended dignity was silenced, so terrible the suffering he detected on the countenance of that lonely widow. While she spoke he cast a glance at his mother’s picture on the wall, and he knew quite well that if those lips could speak, they would say the same words. As he took the hand which trembled, he said, “I am sorry to have pained you, Mrs. Gray.” And then, while watching that tall lady going through the dismal rain, until out of sight, he saw a splendid carriage, with a pair of fine grays, come dashing along the street and stop at the door. Into his room, all smiles, came his senior deacon. “Ah, Mr. Ellis, in the dumps this wretched day. My wife thought as much, and sent me to take you home to dinner.” “Thanks, Mr. Seymour, thanks―just the very thing―ready in a moment”; and the last solemn hour faded away.
“Late mother, late as usual!” as with a smile bright as sunshine, Mrs. Gray welcomed her boy home that evening, helped him off with his wet mackintosh, and told him tea was ready.
“And I am ready for it mother, although it will have to be a rush, as Mr. Seymour has asked me to spend the evening with Mr. Ellis at his house.” A pang shot through the widow’s heart. “You consented, Frank?” “Yes mother, reluctantly, for I did not like leaving you alone again after such a dreary day; but he would take no denial, and as I am expecting him to raise my salary next month, I shall have to be amiable. A chop for me, mother. What extravagance!” She did not tell him that she had had no meat for dinner; for although she lived in a pretty cottage, yet her income, even with Frank’s wages, was small.
“I wish you would not play cards tonight,” she said when helping him on with his coat. “Oh, you frightened mother, what harm can there be in playing a quiet game, with Mr. Ellis? No sorrowful looks, mother. As though I could ever cause you grief―not I, mother.” “If you grieve the Spirit of God, Frank, by worldliness, the devil will soon make havoc with your life.” — Frank hurried off.
Mrs. Gray knelt in the twilight. ― “O God, save my boy, my only child! Keep him from evil.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Tell me what to do, Lord. Take him rather than spare him to grow up a worldly professing Christian.”
It would take too long to relate how that bright, gifted young man rapidly fell into the horrible sin of gambling. Swift was his downfall, staggering even to those who had helped him to it. Mr. Ellis had been on the Continent for three months with the Seymours, and when he returned Frank Gray had disappeared. Not even his mother knew where he had gone. Charged by the senior clerk at Mr. Seymour’s office with an embezzlement that could not be proved, he had hurried home, packed his valise, and left the town at midnight with a depraved, middle-aged man. On a table his mother found a note. “Don’t trouble about me, I shall be all right. Impossible to remain in the town where I am regarded as a thief. My friend has heard of an appointment which will be financially better for me than Seymour’s; when settled I will write.” Weeks passed away―no letter. ―Poor weary heart! How Satan tried her with his “What about your prayers? What is God doing?” etc.; and distrust sought admission into that distressed heart. But her Lord said, “Be not afraid, it is I.” She knew His voice so well. “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,” she answered.
A little incident greatly comforted her: two refined looking lads called, delicately seeking news of Frank. “We love him, Mrs. Gray, because he taught us to love Jesus; and we thought it might comfort you if we came to tell you that we have both decided, with God’s help, never to touch a pack of cards again. Once we told him we were learning and he only smiled and said, ‘Never play for money, lads.’ But the last time he took the class, and told us he was not going to take it again, he implored us all to give up card-playing, as it might lead us down to hell. ―We did not understand then, Mrs. Gray, but we do now. Father said that it was gambling that led dear Mr. Frank into bad company; are you not comforted at knowing that Tom and I have given it up?” She could hardly speak her emotion, was so deep. “Dear young lads, God bless you! I do thank God for sending you to me in my sorrow. May He keep and bless you.” The morning after Mr. Ellis heard the news he took all the money he had, and started for Liverpool. He knew the man’s haunts with whom Frank had gone, and he left no stone unturned to rescue Frank. With his face set like a flint, he searched the city, took a policeman with him into the lowest haunts, and stood outside the gambling dens and theaters, until one night his long and weary search was rewarded. Down the steps of one of the theaters he came―Frank and his companion. ―How wild, how wicked his face was.
“O God, help me!” prayed Mr. Ellis. They were just about to enter a cab, when Mr. Ellis’s hand fell on Frank’s arm. He started―turned deathly pale, and then laughed. It was a mocking laugh, and for years rang in the ears of the man whose heart it smote. “Can I speak to you a moment, Frank?”
“No, sir, not one moment. Go home and rescue the rest of your congregation whom you have dragged to the card-table, but don’t come to Liverpool to do it when it is too late. I have lost peace―lost a home―lost a mother through You; and as I am little likely to regain them, I charge you as the murderer of my soul; you whom I trusted, honored, loved, led me into the sin through which I fell. God forgive you.” And without waiting a reply he flung himself into the cab.
Charles Ellis, stunned by those awful words, stood until the voice of the crowd had died away, and then exhausted with weary search and sleepless nights, he fell. When he awoke to consciousness, thanks to kindly aid, it was in the country home of his maiden aunt not far from Liverpool, who nursed him through a long illness of brain fever. There God met him through the fall of Frank Gray. To this quiet home, in the country village, Mrs. Gray was going one lovely October morning. Miss Ellis had written, enclosing railway expenses, and earnestly requesting her to come immediately, as there seemed to be something on her nephew’s mind which he wanted to say to her. A carriage waited at the station, and the delightful ride was invigorating. She had never heard from, nor of her boy; but this sorrow was rolled on Jesus; and more placid and beautiful than ever was the calm sweet face which smiled on the country lad who drove and listened to her words. “If hever there lived a hangel on this ‘ere earth, that air lady is one,” said he to the cook.
Much more fragile than Mrs. Gray had expected, Charles Ellis lay upon the soft downy bed. “So good of you to come,” he said softly. “Leave us alone, good aunt. If Mrs. Gray returns tomorrow, I must talk to her while I feel able.” “I shall return tonight by the last train,” said Mrs. Gray.” Tonight? Why?” “Frank might come home,” she answered. “I could not be away. While my life is spared, I must be there to give him a welcome.” “You expect him?” “Oh, yes; I have asked God to bring him home; I can wait His time.” “Are you not weary?” “No, I find in God a resting place. In our ignorance we must not hurry the Lord.” “Have you any knowledge of what caused my illness?” “Not any. I have sometimes thought it might be connected with poor dear Frank’s fall.” “You are right; but before I tell you, I ask you to forgive me for the great wrong I did you and him. You were right in what you said to me. Have you forgiven me?” “Certainly I have; otherwise, I could have no communion with God.” “And you do not think hardly of me?” “I do not think I ever did.”
Then he told her about his Liverpool visit. She listened quietly, but it was another trial that so many weeks had passed, and she had not been told where he was, so she might have gone to him immediately. “Would he be there if I went tomorrow, do you think?” “No, I heard his companion say to him, as the cab drove off, “We must leave Liverpool at once, Frank, or half S. will be down upon us.” This is the first day I have been able to see anyone, or you would have known this sooner. “Maybe the Lord spared me the sorrow of going. You have suffered, greatly, Mr. Ellis.” “Oh, Mrs. Gray, my punishment seems greater than I can bear. I never want to go into a pulpit to face men again―a soul-murderer, that is what he called me.” “Hush! no more in this strain. I beseech you to be calm. You are too ill to deal with the matter vet. Leave yourself in God’s hands quietly until you have recovered bodily strength, and then talk to Him about it, and ask Him to order your life.”
Then putting aside her own grief at the revelation he had made, she strove to comfort him. “By the blessing of God you may rise from this sick bed a nobler man. Guilty pasts need never cause guilty futures. ‘The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.’ True repentance will lead you to long ardently to lead precious souls away from dangerous paths into the narrow way, which leads to everlasting life. I will pray for you constantly, and when you come back to work at S., I will be your friend. Now you must let me go. I dare not talk to you any longer.” “Pray with me first, and ask that the cleansing blood may reach me.”
Poor heart, it was almost too full; but she knelt, and as she prayed realized the awful guilt upon the unhappy man’s soul. The sin of her prodigal son seemed so much less heinous than the sin of one who by word and deed had perhaps led many souls astray. In softest tones of exquisite pathos, she earnestly pleaded that the blood of Jesus might cleanse away the crimson stain. He never forgot that prayer throughout his life. When tea was over, she hoped to say good-bye, but he, was too ill to see her again. A short time after, the postman left her a soiled letter, directed to her. Oh, the widow’s joy in recognizing the dear handwriting. It was brief: “Don’t be alarmed mother. They are bringing me home to die. But listen―it’s the old Frank. Get my room ready. Don’t meet me. Tell no one.”
It would be impossible to describe her feelings. A sweet smile parted her lips as she lifted her eyes, saving “I thank Thee, O Father, for this.” Then she lay upon the sofa for a long time, till Hannah, her little servant, who could wait no longer, came in to clear the breakfast things.
She guessed what had happened, but did not scream or rush outside for help. She rubbed the cold hands gently on which her scalding tears fell fast, and said, “Lord Jesus, I’m a rough girl, but make her better with just my seeing to her, because I can see right before me that he’s coming tomorrow, and please, Jesus, forgive my reading it.” Then the faithful girl wrapped a rug around the cold form, pushed the sofa into the sunlight to warm the still face, and got the scent bottle. In a short time Mrs. Gray opened her eyes, and gave the little maid one of her sweetest smiles. “Please ‘em, I’ve seen all about it, but I’ll not speak a word.” It’s all right, dear Hannah. Clear the things away, and we’ll see to getting his room ready.” It did not take long, for it had been kept almost ready for so long.
A cab brought Frank Gray home the next evening, and two men carried him up to his bedroom. Dismissing them, she shut the door, and alone with her loved boy, she took the dear wasted face in both her hands, and kissed it again and again as it lay upon the pillow. Then Hannah went across the road for the doctor, who said that her boy could not possibly live many days. “This has been going on some time and he has been shockingly neglected.” said the doctor. “God can spare his life if it is His will,” she said calmly. “Certainly madam; certainly He can.”
Frank Gray rallied a little, and put his hand into his mother’s, and said in almost a whisper, “Precious mother! precious mother!” Two days later he told her the glad news that, like the prodigal, he had returned to his Father, and had heard Him say, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool.” “Praise God,” said his mother. “But, O mother, what a wasted life!”
“The past is under the blood,” she said. And then to encourage him, she told him of the two lads. It filled him with joy. “Give them my dying love, mother. I am too ill to see them; but, mother, could I see Mr. Ellis?” “No dear; he is away, seriously ill in the country.” “Could I just write a line to him?” “Do not try, dear; you are too weak. Let me write what you would “say. “Tell him that I fully forgive him, and regret speaking as I did―that his mistaken advice ought not to have led me into sin―that I alone am responsible to God, and that now I am washed in the blood of the Lamb, I shall meet him in heaven.”
Towards evening next day, Frank Gray passed peacefully away. “Yes, the cleansing blood has reached even me,” were his last words; but the joy in his face was beautiful, and his mother’s deep joy at his salvation far exceeded her sorrow at parting from him for “a little while.”
When Mr. Ellis received Frank’s message and an account of his death, it was the means, in God’s hands, of leading him to consecrate himself to God. It lifted a heavy load from the young man’s heart, and he felt a deep and holy desire to win souls to Christ, and to faithfully warn them from walking in slippery places, and in roads that lead down to hell.
Reader, are you doing anything that might help to wreck a soul? ―Are you―calling yourself a servant of God-doing the least bit of service for Satan by putting a stumbling-block in somebody’s way, and so occasion their fall? If so, beware—You are your brother’s keeper, and God requires that you should be faithful to the sacred charge.
W. S.