IT was an awful storm. The waves were dashing and foaming against the stony beach, the wind was blowing furiously, the lightning flashed, the thunder pealed, and I was alone. Yes, well do I remember it, tiny child of five though I then was; but, though many years have come and gone since then, that Sunday afternoon stands out, and will never fade while memory lasts. Out on the stormy waves a ship was struggling to reach the harbor, but those on shore knew well she never could do so; so "willing hands and powerful arms" were working the rocket apparatus to save the drowning men, while almost all the people of the village stood on the beach, ready to help in any way they could. Among those thus braving the storm were my own dear father and mother. I had been left in safety at home, under the charge of my, faithful nurse.
But, young though I was—younger, perhaps, than any of my little readers—I knew that it was God who had sent the storm—the God against whom I had sinned so often—and I was frightened. If that bright lightning, which lit up the inky sky so clearly, were to strike me I should perish—perish for ever—for my sins were uncovered, and must sink me down to hell.
But ah! how we try to hide our sins! I did not want nurse to know how frightened I was, so I left her, and went upstairs to the large store cupboard, where I thought the lightning could never find me, and there I knelt, or, rather, crouched in the corner, trembling for fear—a little guilty, un-forgiven sinner, trying to hide from the eye of God. Perhaps you think I must have been very naughty. Yes, I was. Many acts of disobedience came before my mind then—many times when I had crept alone to the store to steal the fruit and other nice things, and then had said that I had not done so. All this I well remembered, and that day, in the storm, God spoke to me about them. He showed me my danger then, and how I needed a refuge, not only from the tempest raging around, but from the lake of fire, and the dreadful storm of His judgment that will come by and by on every sinner, big or little, that has never been forgiven. Dear children, have you ever found out what you are in God's sight? You may never have done the wicked things that I did, but your heart and mine are just alike—"deceitful above all things and desperately wicked,' and your thoughts, like mine, are “only evil."
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Nearly two years passed by, and it was Sunday afternoon again. I was sitting with my teacher and the children of our class in the Sunday-school. We had an address that day. A dear old gentleman, with snowy-white hair and such a kind face, was speaking to us about these three little texts: "Come unto Me” (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)); “Follow thou Me" (John 21:2121Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do? (John 21:21)); "Depart from Me" (Matt. 24:4141Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left. (Matthew 24:41)).
In loving, tender words he told us of the One who said so sweetly “Come unto Me," and then asked what the Lord Jesus would give if we came to Him. Oh, how many things! Life, joy, peace, rest, a home, a crown, a throne—everything! Everything we can want to make us happy down here—everything we shall want for all eternity. Ah! I knew it all in my head. I had often and often heard of Jesus and His love, and, though I was sure He could and would forgive me if only I came to Him, yet up to that afternoon I had never done so; but then and there, sitting in the Sunday-school—
"I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad;
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.”
Yes, I accepted Him then as my Savior; I trusted Him, and I was saved. And so may you be, dear children, if you simply take Him at His word.
“I want all those who have come to Jesus to come and shake hands with me," were the words of the speaker as he closed the meeting. Satan was close by me then, trying to hinder me from confessing the Lord Jesus. What should I do? Should I leave the room as it nothing had occurred, or should I go up to the table, and own by that little act that I now belonged to Jesus? Thank God, He gave me strength to confess Him then, and oh, dear children, if you have never come to Jesus, you cannot imagine the joy I had that afternoon as I went home saved. I had decided for Christ; I had come to Him, and all my sins, so black, so vile, were gone. I was forgiven—forgiven because He had borne my sins on the cross of Calvary, and now I knew it, because He had said so.
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It is Sunday afternoon now; many years have passed since that happy day when I came to Jesus, but, dear children, I have never been sorry for my decision then. No! through all the changes of these eventful years the Lord Jesus has always been so true, so kind, so good. He has been all that He promised to be—such a tender, loving Friend, always ready to help me in every difficulty, constantly caring for me under every circumstance—and I want you to know Him too.
You will never regret it. There is no happiness like having Jesus; there is no joy like that which He gives; and now, I ask you, in His name, to come to Him. He wants you, He loves you, He died to make a way to bring you to God—won't you come? He has said, “No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me." (John 14:66Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. (John 14:6).)
You can never be saved by anyone or anything else. Come, while you read this, that this afternoon may not be a wasted time, but that you and I may rejoice together in the glory for these three Sunday afternoons. H. C. R.