“With the Lord there is mercy, and with Him is plenteous redemption. — Psalms 130:7.
AWAY on the lovely Welsh mountains, in a lowly cottage, resided a lone widow and her only son, Tom, a sturdy young fellow of about twenty. On the occasion to which we refer, he was returning from his daily toil at the usual hour, and upon entering found his aged mother upon her knees praying. His mother’s attitude, as also the fact that he suspected she was praying for him, annoyed him very much. He threw down his bag of tools and in harsh tones shouted: “Mother, I’m sick of this business, and if I find you on your knees again I’ll leave this place forever.”
But like Daniel of old, she feared the Lord, and knew that at the throne of grace she found solace for her broken heart, comfort in her trials, and strength to meet the exigencies of daily life. Besides, she longed that her Tom should trust her Saviour and know his mother’s God.
Consequently at the same hour the next night Tom returned home and found to his sore displeasure his mother in the same attitude praying for her only boy. “So you’re at it again,” he roared, “I told you what I would do, I can’t stand this canting any longer, so now good-bye, and never more will I darken this door,” so saying he walked hastily away. The feeble old soul rose from her knees and in tender tones called after the retreating figure of her only son, “Ah, my boy! you may leave your home and your mother, but I SHALL NEVER CEASE TO PRAY FOR YOU.” Did the tears course down her wrinkled cheeks? Did a deep sigh escape her lips? Did her thoughts travel back to the time when her husband died, and she knew from bitter experience what it was to be a widow? Could we wonder if an unbidden longing seized her for a moment, which could well be expressed in the words of another: —
“But, oh for a touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still.”
now her only son had left her? What for? Because she longed with the intensity of a saved mother’s love for his salvation. But doubtless in those retrospective moments, God drew very near to her, and reminded her of His care in the past, that He was the Husband of the widow, Who heals the broken-hearted, and binds up their wounds, Who is the God of all comfort, and Who comforts all who are cast down.
Tom, after leaving home, went from bad to worse. It would not answer our purpose to give details of the grievous way in which he sinned, suffice to say that he sunk as low as he possibly could, and yet not too low for grace to reach; not too far off to escape the all-seeing eye of God; not too willful to cause his mother to refrain from pleading with her God, as only a mother can for her erring, profligate son.
Days quickly passed into weeks, and weeks into months, when a man might have been seen one evening walking along the streets of W—. He was poorly clad in dirty tattered garments, his face bore the unmistakable marks of sin, and upon his features was a look of utter dejection. He was just such a man as we often look upon with sorrow and compassion.
Such a man reminds us of the unerring statement that, “THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS IS HARD.” He was walking aimlessly along, a vacant look upon his hardened features; it was none other than Tom, the subject of many prayers, but alas, a poor despised outcast. He had sowed the wind, he was now reaping the whirlwind.
Suddenly he is seen to start, and the hard expression upon his face is softened. The cause is not far to seek, it was the singing of a gospel refrain which arrested his attention. Were they words sung in happy childhood’s days? Did they remind the poor fellow of the time when God had very specially appealed to his heart? Be that as it may, he turned aside from the main street and entered the hall, from whence had proceeded the singing which sounded to him as the harmony of Heaven. The subject of a fervent gospel address were words, so well-known and so little heeded, words which reveal the depths of compassion in the Saviour’s heart: “COME UNTO ME ALL YE THAT LABOR AND ARE HEAVY LADEN AND I WILL GIVE YOU REST,” words which have brought hope to hundreds of sin-benighted souls, for the words of this Royal invitation are limitless and extend to all. As the preacher continued his passionate address, no doubt speaking forcibly of sin, righteousness and judgment to come, Tom’s past life was passing rapidly before him, he thought of his mother’s tender warnings, his mother’s earnest prayers, and his mother’s fond love, then of his rebellion against his mother’s God; these constantly recurring thoughts were too much for his breaking heart, he suddenly rose to his feet, and hurriedly left that Hall, desiring solitude.
It was a dark night, which seemed a fit emblem of the midnight darkness which filled his heart. The cool evening breezes, fanned his forehead, whilst the Spirit of God worked upon his heart, as a mighty hurricane, and his sins rose up before him as a host of specters; and as his memory recalled them one by one, he felt himself a wretched man, a vile sinner, and from the depth of his soul-agony could say, “Woe unto me, for I am undone!”
These experiences were too much for his sin-burdened heart, too much for his heated brain; he fell prostrate upon the cold pavement, where he lay for some minutes as though dead. A crowd quickly gathered, but he suddenly rose to his feet, and they saw a calm look upon his white tearstained face, his lips moved, and in clear subdued accents he said: “Good people, you may wonder what is the matter, God has convicted me of sin, I have cried to Him for mercy, I AM NOW A SAVED MAN.”
The bystanders may have thought he was intoxicated, or mad; nevertheless it was true that in those few moments there had been a definite transaction between a loving God and poor rebellious Tom, resulting in his having the blessed knowledge that his sins were all blotted out. In those few moments the joy-bells of heaven had been pealing, the Father had welcomed the prodigal, the Saviour of sinners had received another great sinner, another soul had been ransomed and delivered from the clutches of Satan.
This was not mere outward reformation, but a genuine conversion which was fully attested by his after-life, which he spent for the One Who saved his soul.
He obtained work, he wended his way back to the despised cottage he had vowed he would never again enter, and poured into the ear of his God-honoring mother, the story of his great awakening and ultimate Salvation. And as they conversed upon the details of his repentance, and he rehearsed the wondrous dealing of God, it transpired that, at the very moment that he was lying on that cold pavement, smitten with a deep sense of sin, and craving the mercy of God, that VERY moment in that lonely cottage on the Welsh mountains was his aged mother on her knees making to her God the oft-repeated petition, “O God save my erring son Tom.”
How great is the mercy of our God! His mercy saved Tom from his sins, transformed his life and prepared him for the glories of heaven. The same mercy reaches to you, dear reader. However sinful, however vile, however far you may have wandered we repeat to you the blessed news that “The blood of Jesus Christ, His (God’s) Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”
A.G.