ON the morning after a heavy snowstorm, two gentlemen stood on the platform of the South-Eastern Railway Station at Dover, waiting for the line to be cleared. The snow had been busy the previous night, completely filling up some of the deep cuttings, and about six hundred men were then hard at work removing it. To employ their spare moments, one of the travelers said, “Let us go out and see the vessel that ran into the pier last night; it is close at hand.”
But before they reached the spot they were attracted by a knot of people on the shore. Drawn up on the beach was a long gig-boat, on either side of which stood a row of big, hardy men. In the boat, upon a small straw mattress, and lashed to the seats, lay a sailor, whose countenance was expressive of the deepest agony. The symmetry of his face, notwithstanding the dim, half-closed eyes and general pallor, was beautiful. He was helpless, and entirely dependent on others for everything. Neither was sympathy lacking. Two of his companions had run to ascertain whither to take him―to the Sailors’ Home or the hospital―while others were employed in seeking to alleviate his sufferings. Close at hand lay the stretcher to convey him to his destination.
Addressing one of the sailors, the strangers inquired, “What has happened?”
“Oh!” was the reply, “the poor fellow was in the rigging of yonder wreck,” pointing a little distance out, “last night, and, becoming numbed with the cold, lost his hold, and fell to the deck. We think he’s broken a good many bones, and we have just brought him ashore to take him to the hospital. He’s been in awful pain for many hours, but we couldn’t leave the ship before on account of the heavy sea running.”
By this time the two men had returned, and it was decided to take the man to the hospital. All gently did those burly men stoop over the sufferer and untie the ropes that bound him to the seat! As they were just about to lift him off the mattress and place him upon the stretcher he raised his eyes, and looked into the face of one of his comrades. What volumes that glance spoke Without any words, a deep meaning was expressed and clearly understood. The answer to that look was two or three tear-drops on his weather-beaten face, a gentle smile, and “All right, Jack; we’ll be careful, lad.” Thus they bore him away.
The compassion of the sailors towards their distressed mate led me to consider the compassionate love of God towards poor fallen, sinful man. The very helplessness of the wounded man formed a picture of our condition in ourselves. We are spiritually “wounded and half dead,” and being in that state we became the objects of God’s compassion. God saw us in our sins and helplessness, and had mercy upon us. When we were yet without strength the Son of God came to us, just where we were, to bring us life and strength. He came, sent by God, who is “full of compassion, and gracious, long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth” (Psa. 86:1515But thou, O Lord, art a God full of compassion, and gracious, longsuffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth. (Psalm 86:15)), to save us from death. Thus does our Lord’s parable about the Samaritan also teach us. The Samaritan found the wounded man lying half dead by the roadside, insensible and helpless, and he went to him where he was, and lifted him up out of his misery, and so brought him to safety. May each of our readers know for himself the love of God in Christ, and rejoice in God’s compassion to sinful man.