A YOUNG fellow named Allen Raymond was traveling through Ceylon. One night as he was in bed, with doors and windows open on account of the heat, he heard, ox felt, that there was something in the room. He called out to a native who slept on the porch, but the man did not hear.
“Nutoo, Nutoo!” he called again, jumping out of bed in fear of some danger. At that moment some anal sprang at his hand and bit it severely. The native woke at last, and hurriedly bringing a light he saw that Allen’s hand was covered with blood.
“Something has bitten me,” ex-
claimed Allen, anxiously. “Look around and call the others — it may attack me again. Find out what it is.”
Several natives came running in, and examined his hand. “A dog’s bite!” they all decided.
“Fetch the doctor at once,” said Allen. “If the thing was mad, I shall die.” And as he said the word, he knew that he was not ready to die. The teaching of his Christian pants in his far-off homeland came to his mind, and he well knew that though he had been a clean living fellow, this would not give him peace in the hour of death. His heart was not right with God.
The doctor came and bound up the wound. “A nasty bite,” he said, “but keep yourself calm — it will soon be better.”
“Shall I have hydrophobia?” asked Allen shakily.
The doctor did not think so.
“But it might be mad,” returned Allen with a shudder. “What should I do then?”
“Try to be quiet, Allen,” said the doctor kindly. “The hand will go on very well if you will do as I tell you.”
Allen could not rest, nevertheless. He paced the floor all the rest of the night, and next day, quite exhausted, he laid quietly on his couch. His friends tried to make light of his fears, but nothing comforted him. Then a Christian man living a few miles away, heard of Allen’s trouble and resolved to ride over and see him.
“I heard you had a nasty experience, Allen,” he said, “and I thought I would like to offer you a word of sympathy.”
Allen thanked him, and said, “They tell me my hand is getting better, but it is very painful, and I feel anxious.”
“What are you anxious about?” asked Mr. Oliver gently, guessing the trouble lay deeper than his hand.
“This may mean my death — a dreadful death,” replied Allen, “and I cannot face it.”
"‘Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you'.” quoted Mr. Oliver. “All your care, both of body and soul.”
“But I have not cared for Him,” said Allen, slowly and softly.
“God knows all about that,” continued Mr. Oliver, “yet, as He says, ‘He careth for you'.” Then he brought before Allen the gospel, how that God loved him and sent His blessed Son into this world to die for him, even though he did not appreciate it.
Day after day Mr. Oliver called, giving helpful words, and putting God’s good news simply before the sick young man.
The shock to Allen’s system had been great, but by degrees he grew stronger. Then the doctor strongly advised that he go home for a holiday. Allen did so, but it was a different young man going back than the one who had first gone out to Ceylon. In those weeks of illness, when the terrors of death pressed hard upon his soul, he turned to the God who loved him and sought refuge in His blessed Son, as his Saviour. He went back home with the glad knowledge that he was a redeemed child of God, a sinner saved by grace. After that, Allen was always anxious to spread the good news that had won him to Christ, and delighted to tell of the way God had brought him home.
“Sheep are silly things,” he said one day. “They will run in any direction but the right one; and sometimes the Good Shepherd has to use sterner measures and send a dog to drive the sheep to Himself.”
“I am the Good Shepherd: the Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep... My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me: and I give unto then eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand.” John 10:11 27, 2828And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. (John 10:28)
BOTH YOUNG MEN, AND MAIDENS... AND CHILDREN: LET THEM PRAISE THE... LORD.
BLESS the Lord, O my soul:
And all that is within me, bless His holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul: And forget not all His benefits;
Who forgiveth all thine iniquities:
Who healeth all thy diseases;
Who redeemeth thy life from destruction:
Who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies.
Come, ye children, praise the Saviour, praise Him, your undying Friend, Praise Him, till in Heaven you meet Him, there to praise Him without end.
ML-11/30/1969