CHRISTIAN gentleman on going home late one evening, saw a number of ragged lads — beggars, thieves, or both — standing in a knot, talking, laughing, and swearing. Just as he passed, one of them shouted some jeering piece of impertinence after him. He turned round, and said kindly to the one who had spoken:
“Did you speak to me, my boy?”
He shuffled a little away, muttering, “No, sir.”
“The gentleman then stepped into the middle of the dirty group, saying,
“Boys, listen to me. I have something to tell you—a sort of story.”
They were all silent in an instant, and then, in few and plain words, he told them of the kindness and love of God to the world that, “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:1616For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)); after which he spoke to them of the life, sufferings, and death of Jesus Christ, trying to tell all he could about it, and using the words of Scripture as much as possible. As he spoke of how weary and tired and hungry the Saviour often was, all was silence. Then as he went on to describe the closing scenes of that wondrous life, in the way he thought most likely to present its reality vividly to their minds, he heard an occasional scuffle, as one and another pushed nearer to hear how the Lord had suffered for sin on the cross. They listened with faces of awe —dirty enough, but solemn—to hear of the agony in Gethsemane, the cross and death of Jesus; and by-and-by he heard, and God heard too, little vulgar sobs of uncontrollable emotion. Dirty hands wiped dirty faces, and their round eyes never moved from the speaker’s lips, as he told them that, while he spoke to them, Jesus was there, and that His love was as great that night as when He died upon the cross for sinners.
The story ended; no one spoke. Suddenly the gentleman said:
“Now lads, He loved us very much; ought not we to love Him? Who loves Him? Let everyone that wishes to love Him hold up his hand. I do,” and he held up his.
They looked at one another. Then one held his hand up. A little mass of rags, with only one shoe and a little grimy face, half hidden by his tangled hair, with an old battered hat without a rim, held up his dirty little hand. It was a touching sight. One and another followed, till all the hands, just twelve in number, were up.
The gentleman then said, slowly, “You all wish to love Him; now, dear boys, hear what He says to those who love Him; ‘If a man love Me, he will keep My words.’” Then to him who had first held his hand up, he added, holding out his hand, “Shake hands on it that you will promise me to try and keep His words.”
At once the little hand was put in his for a hearty shake; and, giving the lads a little money to be shared amongst them, he wished them good-night. So they parted.
About three weeks afterwards, the same gentleman, in company with a friend, was going along a main thoroughfare, when a little shoe black made a dive forward and stood grinning with delight before them. The gentleman had not the least notion of who he was; so at last said, “Well, my boy, you seem to know me; who are you?”
“Please sir, I’m Jack.”
“Jack—Jack who?”
“Only Jack, sir, please sir.”
At once it occurred to him who the lad was. “I remember you now,” he said. “Have you tried to keep your promise to show your love to the Lord Jesus by obeying Him?”
“Yes sir, I have; indeed I have,” he answered, earnestly.
The gentleman stopped a little, making an excuse by letting him clean his shoes. “Can you read, Jack?” he asked.
“Yes, sir; not over well; but I can manage to spell out a page.”
“Would you like a Testament of your own, where you could read the story you heard the other night?”
There was no answer, but such an expression of delight that the gentleman said, “I see you would like it, Jack. Come to my rooms at—tomorrow, and you
shall have one.”
Exactly at the appointed hour Jack was there, having first washed himself at a neighboring pump, and plastered down his hair. His friend shook hands with him, and said he was glad to see him, adding, when the boy was seated by his side:
“Jack, why do you want a Testament?”
“To read about Him you told us of,” said he shortly.
“Why do you want to read about Him? Because you love Him, is it? “
Jack nodded once, shortly and decisively. There was no doubt about it. “Why do you love Him?”
Jack was silent. His little features moved in a singular way, his eyes twinkled, his breast heaved. All at once he dropped his head upon the table, sobbing as if his heart would break. “‘Cause they killed Him,” gasped poor Jack.
It was with some difficulty the gentleman restrained his own tears. The fervent belief in the Saviour’s death, the clear view that it was for him, and that he did in no way deserve it, had melted this poor little heart as it never had been melted before.
Jack’s name was then written, or rather printed, at his request, “werry large” in his Testament. Then, after the gentleman had prayed and talked with him about his serving Christ by speaking of His love to others, they parted.
From that time Jack longed to tell other sinners of the love of Jesus, and the way in which they might be made happy now, and dwell forever with Christ in heaven.
This is always the case where Christ is truly known. Dear reader, is it so with you?
ML 09/22/1912