A young actress had earned the applause and admiration of many by her beautiful voice and talented performances.
Evening had come, and she was on her way to the theater where she would again win the praise and acclaim of the crowds. They were pleasant enough to receive (so she might have thought as she went on) and yet why was she so weary-hearted tonight? And how was it she felt so unsatisfied in spite of her success?
She would be growing old soon, her voice would be going, and then how long would these sort of friends stay with her? and, well, there was something further on still. There was death—and what should she do when that drew near? There was the great score of her sins to be settled! Ah, perhaps it was that that caused the heavy heart tonight.
Suddenly through the hum of the busy city, there broke the clear ring of children’s voices singing in the street. They were close beside her, and the words fell distinctly on her ear—
Depth of mercy, can there be
Mercy still reserved for me?
Can my God His wrath forbear?
Me, the chief of sinners, spare?
I have long withstood His grace,
Long provoked Him to His face;
Would not hearken to His calls,
Grieved Him by a thousand falls.
There for me the Saviour stands,
Shows His wounds and spreads His hands.
God is love, and I know and feel—
Jesus lives, and loves me still.”
It was a new, a strange message to the sin-sick soul, and the young actress listened eagerly to the words. When they were finished, she asked the children to repeat them, which they did over and over again. Then giving them a few coins she passed on, with the lines ringing in her ears and heart.
Could it be true? Was there really mercy reserved for a sinner such as she had been? Would the Saviour show His wounded hands and the marks of the cruel cross to His Father to prove that He had taken her place and borne the punishment that was due to her? And was it true that the holy God was also a God of love, and that He was perfectly satisfied with His Son as her Substitute, and could say in all truth—“I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for My own sake, and will not remember thy sins"?
She reached the theater, and prepared in a dreamy way to act her usual part. The building was crowded; but as she stepped upon the stage, her thoughts were far away from the audience around her or from the enthusiasm that her appearance had aroused. She opened her lips, but it was not to give forth their accustomed utterance; almost unconsciously the words rang out—
Depth of mercy, can there be
Mercy still reserved for me?
They were followed by an astonished silence—the actress turned and left the stage—left the theater, and hurried out into the darkened streets, never pausing until she had reached the room she had so lately left. There, with the door locked, she threw herself upon her knees and accepted that “depth of mercy” that had been reserved for her, and gave herself—body, soul and spirit—to the One who had died in her stead.
ML-04/01/1979