When I was a little girl, my grand-uncle from the West Indies came on a visit to our home. The aged man with his long gray hair, clasping my mother, to whom he had been a foster parent, in his arms, said,
“God be praised that I see you alive and well.”
Before he had been with us many days, he and I were great friends, but I could see that he was sad at heart that I had no interest in the things of God, in which he occupied the whole of his time. One morning, he said,
“Emms, how long do you think it will be safe for you to remain unsaved? Will it be safe to wait until you are twenty-five?”
I could not answer that question, but sat silent. So he said,
“I was at the funeral of a young lady of nineteen the other day, so it would not be safe. Eighteen; how would that do?”
I remembered my cousin C. died at eighteen, and so did my grand-uncle, for he mentioned it at once. He looked at me in tender sadness and said,
“Each day is a danger, for we cannot tell when Death may come. The Word says,
No, more was said then, but I had no rest until about a week later I received Jesus as my Saviour. I do not regret my choice.
ML 12/15/1940