It was in the "horse and buggy days," and I often used a Christian cabby to drive me on my professional calls. One day he hailed me with: "Will you say a few words, Doctor, to a man in distress about his soul?”
My cabby friend was a devoted servant of Christ, and spent all his spare moments in preaching the gospel. Since his cab was his own, he had on it what he called "The heavenly coat-of-arms." On the panel of one door was painted "God is love," and on the other "God is light." Anyone entering his cab was at once confronted by a large printed card. On it were the words: "Behold the Bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet Him.”
At night when his gray horse was comfortably stalled, he might be often seen at a street corner. With a bull's-eye lamp fastened to his belt, he would read the Word of God, and then preach the good news to the passers-by. On this particular day he had been driving me on my rounds, and I had just come down a long stairway from seeing a patient. I had stepped into the cab when he thus addressed me.
It was a stormy day of rain, and drivers and horses were drenched. Standing by my cabby's side was another man with whom he had been conversing. He too was a cabman, and my driver had been talking with him while their respective fares were engaged indoors.
Turning to the anxious man, I soon learned that he was a really awakened soul. The deluge of rain made it hard to carry on a conversation at that moment, so I asked him if he could not come and see me in the evening.
"I shall not be off the route till eleven o'clock," said he.
"That's all right," I replied. "You come to my house at eleven o'clock, and I will be waiting for you.”
That evening, a few minutes past eleven, the bell rang, and the poor drenched cabman came in. Before saying a word to him about his soul, I made him sit down to eat a little hot supper, which I felt quite certain he needed. He sat down and took one mouthful. Then, pushing the plate from him, he said: "Beg pardon, sir, but I'm that wretched I cannot eat any more. Oh, what am I to do to be saved?”
A long conversation followed. The sweet story of the love of Christ was unfolded, the value of His blood declared, and the estimate which God had of His work asserted. The truth entered his soul; faith grasped the simple gospel of the grace of God; his soul passed into peace, joy, and liberty, and he exclaimed—"Thank God, I see it all. I believe Jesus; I see that He died for me, a poor lost sinner; I trust Him; I know His blood has washed all my sins away. I see it clearly." And tears of joy rolled down his cheeks.
I then suggested that we thank God for this grace to his soul, to which he gladly assented. We got on our knees, and I thanked the Lord for His mercy in saving this anxious soul.
No sooner had I finished than he broke out in a stream of praise and thanksgiving such as I have rarely heard from a new-born soul. Immediately afterward he cried to God for the salvation of his wife—a sure sign of new birth. When we have learned the goodness of God for ourselves, we always desire that others should share it.
When we had risen from our knees, I begged him to sit down and finish his supper. Again he seated himself and took one mouthful. Then again pushing the plate from him, he said—"Beg pardon, sir; but I am that full I cannot eat another mouthful. I'll hurry home and tell the wife what God has done for my soul." And rejoicing in Christ, he departed.
Reader, do you know anything about this fullness of joy, this satisfaction in Christ? Have you learned the blessedness of God's forgiveness? Or, are you still wretched—lost in sin?
Turn to Jesus now. Come to Him as you are. Believe His love. Trust His precious blood. He will not cast you out. None are too bad, too vile, too far off for Jesus to save. You need not stay "wretched." You can be "full.”