Some years ago a missionary on his way home for a furlough stood watching the sailors struggling with the tackle of the main mast of the ship, while a terrible storm raged at sea. They were already some days from New York, when they were overtaken by an unusually violent storm which lasted five days. When the storm was raging at its worst, and the ship heaved up and down with fearful violence, some of the tackle above the mast came into disorder. Someone must go up to put it right again; but it was a duty attended with danger of life.
The steersman called a young sailor boy, and ordered him to climb up the highest mast. When the order was given, the missionary was standing near the steersman. He watched the boy to whom such a dangerous task had been assigned with heartfelt pity, for he was so young and tender, that one would have much rather have put a spelling book into his hand, than let him unfurl a sail. But this was now the duty of the poor boy. His mother was a destitute widow; she could not keep her son under her care, and was obliged to send him to sea to earn something.
When the steersman called out for him to ascend, the boy took his cap from his head, and looked first toward heaven. Then he looked at the mast bending to and fro, then at the mighty waves which swept over the deck, and then silently and wistfully into the calm, stern countenance of the steersman. After standing a moment as if considering, he hastened along the deck and went into the forecabin, his retreat when he became weary with his hard work. He remained there only a few mites, returned to the steersman, laid his hand on the rope ladder, and climbed up quickly and fearlessly. The missionary watched him until dizziness seized him, and then he went to the steersman and asked, “Why do you send young boys to such a dangerous height? I am afraid he will not come down alive.”
“I do it,” said the steersman, “to spare a MAN’S life. We have had men before this fall down and be killed, but never boys. Look now how he climbs! He holds himself firmly as a squirrel. I hope he will come back to us quite safe. He’s a fine boy.”
Tears filled the missionary’s eyes as he watched the boy struggling with the mast, every moment fearing he would fall, but after ten minutes the brave boy was among them again. He had accomplished his difficult and dangerous task, and smiled in happy consciousness that he had done his duty.
The next day the missionary sought him out to speak to him, and he asked him, “What was your first thought, before you climbed the mast?”
“I thought I must pray first,” he answered.
“Do you pray often, my boy?”
“Yes, sir,” was the answer, “and this time I thought I might not come down alive, so I went into my cabin first and commended my soul to God.”
“Where did you learn to pray?”
“At home. My mother sent me to Sunday school. My teacher taught me to know the Lord Jesus as my Saviour, and He has kept me ever since.”
“What is that little book that you put in your pocket when you went up the mast?” asked the missionary.
“My New Testament, which my mother gave me before I left home. I thought, sir, if I should be killed, I should like to have God’s Word near my heart.”
Was he not a fine, courageous, God-fearing boy? He had found the Lord first as His Saviour, and then he had proved the value of that scripture: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” Psa. 46:11<<To the chief Musician for the sons of Korah, A Song upon Alamoth.>> God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. (Psalm 46:1).
We wonder if our reader has yet trusted this same blessed Saviour. Can you say,
“BUT I AM POOR AND NEEDY; YET THE LORD THINKETH UPON ME: THOU ART MY HELP AND MY DELIVERER”? Psa. 40:1 7.
ML 07/16/1961