IT was a beautiful, bright day, and many were spending it by the seaside. The waves sparkled in the sunshine, and, far as the eye could reach, the sandy shore was a scene of pleasure and childish merriment, for it was a holiday, and many a weary mother was resting, and watching her children as they waded in the sea or played in the sand. Not a sad face was to be seen—all seemed to catch the sunlight and brighten into joy. Even the feeble little hump-backed child sitting in the rickety old wheel-chair, wheeled down for a breath of sea air, had caught a ray, and brightened, forgetting for a moment, the weary days and nights of its short life spent in a close room in one of the narrow streets of the city.
Low down on the beach the children were gathering shells, or building castles in the sand, to be swept away by the rising tide; and others were chasing the receding wave, and being chased back again by the returning one.
Some amused themselves riding on the donkeys, while others, who could not afford that pleasure, shouted and ran behind them. There did not seem to be one anxious face; all was merriment.
Yet there was one. A rough-faced, weather-beaten man paced up and down the sands near the water’s edge, and with knit brows and half-closed eyes watched the movements of some boys who were bathing and swimming. The bright, warm, sunny day had made them unusually venturesome and this man, known as “The Rescue,” had warned them of a strong, southward-going current, and he trembled for their safety.
He had been watching earnestly since the early morning, and as yet all had been well; no one but himself dreamed of danger, no face but his spoke of anxiety, and even his face was beginning to brighten with the hope that the day would close without an accident, when the cry arose from another quarter, down the beach, “A boy drowning!”
Instantly the scene was changed. Every face became pallid, and the cry was echoed and re-echoed.
“The Rescue” ran to the spot, and throwing off his coat and boots, plunged into the sea and swam towards the place where the boy was struggling with the current. Before he reached him, he had sunk, and not for some moments could the Rescue find him.
At last they were brought in by a boat which had been quickly launched to help them, but as the eager crowd caught a glimpse of the poor boy hanging with his head down on the Rescue’s back, they said, “He is drowned.” Some asked, “Is there any hope?” but the gruff seaman’s voice said sadly, “I don’t know; I fear not.”
Carrying the boy to the bath-house, the Rescue applied all the possible means for restoration, but, to all appearance, in vain. And at length he was left with the boy’s body by those who at first had helped him.
Being thus alone, he determined to go on with the appliances, though it seemed like hopelessly working with a dead body, but after some time signs of life appeared. Then, tired with his exertions, the Rescue sat down for a moment by the side of the boy, who certainly was breathing; he watched earnestly to see whether the breathing would cease or strengthen; whether the eyes would open again, or remain forever closed.
After a time the eyes of the sleeper opened for a moment, and looking up, he asked the question, “Who saved me?”
“I did,” said the Rescue.
A look of gratitude was all the boy could give just then, and he closed his eyes and slept again, but the rough, weather-beaten seaman said of all the rewards he had received for saving life, that was the best, for he remarked, “You see, it was the first word he spoke. He said, ‘Who saved me?’”
As I turned homewards, for I had had enough of the seaside, I thought of the merry scene, where all were bent on pleasure, yet danger so near; only one alive to it; and he so ready to save; and I thought of the reward he had had in the interest manifested by the boy he had saved from death.
Then I thought of Him who is indeed The Rescue, our Saviour, our Redeemer. and how He laid down His life to save. Yet how few know Him as a personal Saviour? How few are saying, “Who saved me?” It must be a joy to the Lord to see some making it their first and last object to know Him, and to live a life of thankfulness, loving and serving Him, because He first loved them.
The apostle Paul speaks of “THE SON OF GOD, WHO LOVED ME AND GAVE HIMSELF FOR ME.” Ga1.2:20.
ML 07/29/1917