By the time Leonard Dean was seven he was familiar with juvenile court. At ten he was living in reform school. “Graduating” from there, he was just a drifter. Somewhere along the way he had gained a wife, but at last he beat her so brutally that he was sent to prison.
Coming out of prison during World War II, at once he enlisted. After a quick training, he was sent overseas. He rather hoped a sniper’s bullet would end his miserable life, but while others fell around him, he was spared.
One night behind the lines he heard the singing of a hymn he had learned in his early years. Nightly services were being held by a group of Christian servicemen. The deep-toned voices of the men were not like the clear, bright notes of long ago, but old memories crowded into his mind. He wished he could go back to childhood and start afresh! But this was impossible! Any day he might be lying in some bullet-riddled spot. The old hymn was not for people like him!
In fact, if these people only knew what he was, they would order him away. He wouldn’t wait for that, so he started to leave. Just at that moment he caught the words of the hymn:
Tell me the story softly,
In earnest tones and grave,
Remember, I’m the sinner
Whom Jesus came to save.
He felt as though some kind friend had spoken, and he waited until the hymn was finished. Again he was on the verge of leaving, but he was held back, as by an invisible hand.
The softly spoken word of the text was: “Come.” The speaker seemed to be speaking to him when he commented: “This is the mother word. We think of her outstretched hands teaching us to walk, and inviting us to her arms for comfort or forgiveness. It is the voice of Jesus who speaks it now to you, whoever you may be. His is a greater love than a mother’s. He lived for you and died for you—COME! He will forgive and bless and make you a blessing. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. Come!”
“Oh, dear Jesus, I do come—just as I am.” At that moment the soldier opened his heart to the Lord and passed from death to life. Could such a cry from his heart go unheeded? Didn’t the Saviour say, Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest?
After the meeting he said, “This is the happiest day of my life. Now I can write to my wife and tell her the good news. It will be the best she has ever heard.”
That same night, putting his hand on the shoulder of another soldier, he urged him to turn to the Saviour of sinners. Without a word the man followed him into the after-meeting.
“Here’s a fellow who wants to come, too,” said Leonard. “I know he does.”
Leonard was right, and soon he had the joy of seeing his friend come to the Saviour.
Have you heard by faith the Saviour’s voice, “Come unto Me”? He is not asking you to DO anything. The work is DONE. Listen to His dying words: It is finished. The work of redemption was completed on the cross, and the Victim on the cross is now the Victor on the throne of God.
“Come!” ’tis Jesus gently calling,
“Ye with care and toil oppressed,
With your guilt howe’er appalling—
Come, and I will give you rest.”
For your sin He “once has suffered,”
On the cross the work was done,
And the word by God now uttered
To each weary soul is “Come!