It was late in the evening of a quiet Sunday, and the man who was addressing the crowd in the open air, had been often moved to speak of Jesus to the multitudes who frequented that breezy spot. He was a simple, earnest man of God with few gifts but much grace, and in telling the story of the cross many a head was bent, and many an eye moistened with emotion. The last hymn was being sung. The speaker moved quietly about among the people, offering them well selected tracts.
A year passed, and the preacher often wondered whether the seed sown in this, and similar services which he had conducted, had borne fruit. One evening, in the Autumn, he was crossing a ferry, not far from the spot where he had spoken before, when a rough man in the boat accosted him:
“Good evening, sir: I suppose you don’t remember me?”
“No, I cannot say I do,” was the answer, after a close look at him.
“Ah, but I know you,” exclaimed the honest man.
“Indeed! how, or where, may I ask?”
“If I may tell you all about it, I should like to do so.”
“Do tell me, my friend.”
“Do you remember preaching on the hill yonder, one Sunday evening last summer?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I was one of your hearers—and I thank God I was! You talked of judgment to come. I thought you must have known what a sinner stood close to you, for you often looked at me. Before you were finished I was fairly beaten down. And then you gave me a tract, which I took and walked quietly home. I am not ashamed to tell you that I wept all the way home. Mine was a solitary room, and when I reached it, I sat down to read my tract. That, too, spoke of a coming judgment, and my conscience was on fire. But it told also of Jesus, the Lamb of God, who takes away sin. Ah! that Was what I wanted. I cried unto God. I could not sleep, and so for many weary weeks I went on, miserable enough. At last I saw that God’s way to me was through Jesus Christ; and that my way to God was just through Jesus Christ, too. One Mediator between God and men, and so resting on and trusting alone in Him, I found that death had no sting in prospect, and judgment no terror, for faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and through Him alone, even my crimson sins were made ‘white as snow.’”
“How is it now, my friend? Do you ever sin now?”
“O, sir, I wish I could say no! but I cannot. Yes, I do sin.”
“And what do you do when you sin?”
“What can I do, but just go to God, and confess my sin to Him.”
“Do you hope to go to heaven when you die?”
“Yes, for His sake; not for my own, for I am all unworthy, but He is all righteous.”
“What will make it heaven to you?”
“There I shall see His face,
And never, never sin,
There from the rivers of His grace
Drink endless pleasures in,”
was the quiet answer.
The questioner ceased, it was enough. He saw the work was of God, and in thus meeting with the human instrument of his conversion from darkness to light, John had realized one of the deepest wishes of his inmost heart.
Seed-sower! go on sowing “beside all waters,” for God both can and will “give the increase.” (1 Cor. 15:58).