There came into the hall a ragged pale-faced little boy and sat near the front. He kept his eyes on the preacher all through the service and seemed to drink in God's precious truth. Next Sunday he came again. But after that he was seen no more.
Two months passed away and then late one night an Irish man knocked at the preacher's door, and said, "Oh, sir, come at once to my little boy. He is very ill. He heard you preach and he wants to see you."
"I will come in the morning," said the preacher.
"Oh, but please, yer riverance," pleaded the father; "the morning will be too late. You must come tonight, for he is dying."
He followed the man two miles across the fields till they came to a solitary cabin. He entered and in a corner on some straw lay his little hearer, sadly the worse and not long for this world.
The boy recognized the evangelist, pressed his hand and raising his other thin little arm to heaven he whispered, "His right hand, and His holy arm, hath gotten Him the victory." Then his happy spirit passed away and he was at home with his Saviour.
Messages of the Love of God 4/27/1975