When I was a boy, on a farm opposite from where we lived, was a young lad named George; he was an extraordinary mixture of human nature.
George was an enormous size for his age, a sort of double-jointed giant, with a savage temper. He would quarrel with the tools he worked with, and fight with the boys he played with. He gave his playmates the impression that he possessed extraordinary fighting powers, and declared that one day he was going to be “the champion!”
He would tie up a large bundle of straw, pretend that it was some great fighting man, put himself in the attitude of a pugilist, and knock it down in gallant style. We youngsters thought he was a wonder. He had big fists, great feet, and a head of marvelous size. When out of temper, his voice quivered with passion.
One day, however, to our disgust, he got up a fight with a little fellow, and the short boy gave him a most humiliating beating. We had less confidence in him from then on. Sometimes he sulked over his food. On one occasion after eating little or nothing for about three days, he put his arms around a huge loaf of bread, and exclaimed: “Come now, let us be friends again.” And didn’t he eat!
I became very fond of this great savage boy, and my dear Christian mother proved herself a real friend to him. He would say: “There is no one like Nellie Jones.”
Years rolled by, and I, having found Christ as my Saviour, was seeking to serve Him in the gospel. One day I found myself at my cousin’s in the country where I had some gospel meetings. My mother was much concerned about poor George, who was very ill. So I decided to go and see him at his little home, about four miles from the railway station. My cousin went along with me. Although we had not seen each other for years, George knew me in a moment, began to cry, and gripped my hand very firmly. Then I knelt down beside his bed and sang:
“There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.”
Then I read him Isaiah, chapter 53 “But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed.
“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all ... .”
I also read to him from the nineteenth chapter of John, about the Lord’s crucifixion: “They crucified Him, and two others with Him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst... when Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said, It is finished: and He bowed His head, and gave up the ghost....
“But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced His side, and forthwith came there out blood and water....”
George was much moved and melted; I was sure that the Holy Ghost had enlightened him and that he was a quickened soul. George said that the light shone into him while I was reading about the sufferings of Jesus; that he saw the way of salvation quite clearly, and that his heavy burden of guilt, which had only grown heavier over the years, was now quite gone. He was so happy, and rejoiced in the Lord.
“Sing that again,” he said, “There is a fountain filled with blood,” so my cousin and I sang it together once more.
“How wonderful,” he added, “that God should move your dear mother to be so kind to me in my young days, and that He should now send you, her son, all the way here, to show me the wonderful things that the blest Saviour has done for ray soul, to save me from hell. Praise God, I shall now meet your dear mother and you in heaven.”
We then sang another verse of the hymn together, kissed each other, and said good-bye for the last time on earth, to meet again on that blest resurrection morning.
The resurrection morn will break,
And every sleeping saint awake,
Brought forth in light again;
Oh morn, too bright for mortal eyes!
When all the ransomed church shall rise
And wing their way to yonder skies
Called up with Christ to reign.
ML 04/14/1968