What a great number of different dogs there are. There are little ones and big ones; white ones and black ones; friendly ones and fierce ones, but the dog of my story was a big black friendly dog, known as a Newfoundland dog. I don’t know his name, but we shall call him Shag, just for our story.
Shag knew the shore line of the village where his master lived, better than any of the fishermen. He romped and played with all the children, and he loved to be at the shore when the boats were brought in with their loads of fish.
One day a stranger came to visit in the village. Early one Saturday morning, the visitor wandered down to the rocky shore to watch the tide, and to explore and take some pictures. Shag seemed to feel that he could be of some help, so he followed quietly at a distance. With a keen eye, he stood at the top of the cliff and watched the movements of the stranger. All at once there was a cry of despair followed by a loud splash. With a loud bark and a bound, Shag headed down the cliff toward the spot where the man had disappeared under the waves. In a moment, he was in the water, waiting for the drowning man to appear again above the surface. Quickly he seized him by the collar, with his strong teeth, and then turned towards the shore again. What a struggle! The cliff was steep and the man was unconscious! With a strong and steady stroke, he swam around the point and made for the beach. There the fishermen were already at work, and they rushed out with their boats to meet the brave dog, and to lift the body and carry it to shore.
It was not long before the man opened his eyes and looked about. The kind faces of the fishermen were bent anxiously over him, and right behind them, Shag was busy trying to shake the water out of his black coat. The story was soon told, and the man realized that he owed his life to Shag. How thankful he felt. And not only thankful, but he at once found out the owner, and promptly bought the dog for his very own. And I am told that every year, on the anniversary of the day when Shag saved him from that watery grave, his new and kind master gave him all the good beefsteak that he could eat! I can’t tell you much more, for my story is a true one, but perhaps it has made you think of another and far greater story.
It is the story of Jesus who came all the way from heaven to lay down His life in order that He might save you for Himself. He loves you, dear boys and girls, and He wants you to thank Him for coming to save you from your sins. I sometimes hear boys and girls swear by the precious name of Jesus, and speak very wickedly about the Saviour. Surely if they were trusting in Him as their own Saviour, they could not speak that way.
ML 03/07/1954