It was Sunday evening in a little mission hall, and the audience was sweetly singing,
Someone will enter the pearly gate,
By and by;
Taste of the glories that there await;
Shall you? Shall I?
The audience was standing, and among them stood Joe Packer, the well-known prize fighter.
Someone will knock when the door is shut,
By and by;
Hear a voice saying,
“I know you not"; Shall you? Shall I?
So sang the little band softly, while Joe shook his head mournfully and heaved a deep sigh.
Someone will greet on the golden shore,
By and by;
Loved ones of earth who have gone before,
Shall you? Shall I?
As the voices died away, tears filled the eyes of the rough prize fighter, for the sweet face of his little girl whom he had lost eight years ago rose before his sight. Was she on the golden shore, hoping that he would come to greet her there? Should he disappoint her?
The crowd melted away until only two men remained. Mr. Martin had noticed the emotion on the poor man’s face.
“What about you, Joe?” he asked in a tone of sympathy. “Shall you be there by and by?”
“I’m afraid not,” was the reply given in a broken voice. “Though I’d give all I’ve got to meet my little Elsie over there.”
“Ah, yes,” exclaimed Martin, “and why shouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know how to get to her. And I live such a rough life, you know.”
“Come with me to the gospel service, and learn how you may see her again,” said Mr. Martin as he slipped his hand through Joe’s arm.
“No, not like this. I’ll go home and change first.”
“Hurry then, and I’ll be waiting for you at the mission!”
When decently dressed, Joe sallied forth and turned his steps towards the mission. Alas, on the way he had to pass his favorite tavern. He thought he should turn in to remind a friend of his about something. He was to fight that night at the rear of the tavern and had put down a $25.00 bet.
“Aren’t you going to stay; what’s the hurry?”
“Well no, I have somewhere else to go, but I’ll have a glass first before I leave.”
Away at the mission Mr. Martin was speaking with his eye on the door, but his man did not come.
No, Joe sat drinking glass after glass, although his conscience kept pricking him as he thought of his broken promise. More than once he said to himself, “This is the last. After this I’ll go!”
Nine o’clock came; then it seemed he heard a loud voice saying, “Put that glass down! Drink another and be damned!” He rose and staggered out of the tavern and made his way at last to the Mission Hall.
The service of course had ended, and the lights were being put out, when they were startled to hear the doors burst noisily open, and a man, evidently the worse for drink, staggered in.
“Over?” he cried.
“Yes.”
“Oh! Convert me! Do!”
“We can’t convert you, but God can.”
For over an hour they prayed beside the sobering man and explained to him his only chance of salvation. Joe could hardly believe that God loved him.
“That can’t be true,” he cried.
“It is.”
“Well then, it’s very funny.”
“Yes, it is most strange but most blessedly true. The Lord Jesus can save you, and take you through the pearly gate by and by,” said Mr. Martin.
“It’s no use. I can’t give it up, but this shall be the last time,” cried Joe. “What is it you can’t give up?” Then the story of the forth-coming fight came out, and Joe was besought not to endanger his never-dying soul for the sake of a paltry $25.00 in stakes he had paid down.
It was a fearful struggle to the last, the hardest fight he’d ever fought, as he often said later, but through the help of his Saviour that loved him, poor Joe came off more than a conqueror.
“All right,” he cried at last. “I’ll do it.”
Poor Joe Packer was wonderfully saved that night. With thankful hearts the little company of victors turned to leave the Hall.
“And you believe, don’t you, Joe, that God is able to keep you?” asked Mr. Martin.
“Well, I’ll let Him try,” said the now happy Joe. “But you must come home with me and help me tell my Sally. My! Won’t she swear! But she’ll be surprised to see me sober.”
Arriving at his door, Joe screwed up courage, and pushing his two friends in before him, he cried, “Now, Sally, I’ve got converted, and these men are come to convert you; so get ready!”
The astonished Sally did not swear but stared in scared amazement as Mr. Martin knelt and prayed for God’s blessing on that house and all who dwelt in it.
The prize fight was canceled, and the stakes were forfeited, greatly to the astonishment of those who frequented the tavern where Joe Packer’s conversion became the talk of the town. There was no doubt of its reality, for the life which he now lived testified to his utter change of heart. His Saviour had come now to dwell there, and old things had passed away. Behold all things became new. (2 Cor. 5.)
His past reckless life, however, told on him, and before another year had passed, the Lord took him peacefully home.
ML-10/22/1978