As a boy in his teens, James Hudson Taylor lay in the hayloft reading a tract. He intended to read only the story and leave out the prosy appeal at the end. But when he read the words: "The finished work of Christ," the theme consumed him.
"If," he asked himself as he lay upon the hay, "if the whole work was finished, and the whole debt paid upon the cross, what is there left for me to do?
"And then," he wrote afterward, "there dawned upon me the joyous conviction that there was nothing in the world to be done but to fall on my knees, accept the Savior and praise Him evermore."
Nothing, either great or small,
Nothing, sinner no;
Jesus did it, did it all,
Long, long ago.
Weary, working, burdened one,
Wherefore toil you so?
Cease your doing; all was done,
Long, long ago.
When He from His lofty throne
Stooped to do and die,
Everything was fully done;
Hearken to His cry―
"It is finished." Yes, indeed,
Finished every jot;
Sinner, this is all you need;
Tell me, is it not?