Some years ago it was my privilege to work as district visitor in London. In a cellar in one of the courts assigned me lived a pious old soldier, who had lost one of his legs in battle. This, however, did not afflict him, no, nor his poverty; but his wife was ungodly, and this lay as a heavy burden on his heart. He had a trifling pension, which, with the scanty product of a mangle, was all they possessed. The simple faith and piety of the old soldier at once won my heart. I often visited him, and was refreshed and edified by his remarks while reading the Word of God to him.
One morning the mail brought me a letter from a friend to whom I had written about this aged couple. She had been interested with their history, and sent me five shillings in stamps, to be laid out for them as I might judge best. I set out at once to carry them the good news. In vain, however, did I stand at the top of the dark stairs this morning, and call aloud to Mrs. G. to open the door, that I might find my way down. It was of no use, she was scolding aloud, and was deaf to every other sound. I groped my way, and, making for the door, gave a loud rap, which soon brought Mrs. G.’s voice to a momentary hush, and an expression of regret that she had not heard me. I replied, that I was greatly surprised and troubled to find her scolding so loudly.
“It is enough to provoke a saint,” she said, “to see him go on as he does.”
“O! don’t trouble the lady with these things,” said her husband; “let’s have some of the words of God, for truly we need them this morning.”
Mrs. G., however, was not to be so silenced; she would give vent to the anger that swelled her breast. I will relate her grievance in her own words.
“Now here’s a man for you, ma’am! without a bit of care for his wife! The other day we had only one penny in the house, and I sent him to get in a bit of bread; but, instead of that, he goes and gives it away to a tramp he knows nothing of!”
The old soldier looked deeply grieved. “My dear lady,” he said, “there are two ways of telling every story!” and then, with much emotion, he gave me his own version. It was very true! The penny was all they had, and he was proceeding to the baker’s, when a traveling man with his wife and three children sitting on a door step arrested his attention. He found that, like himself, they were natives of Scotland, sick and hungry; he spoke to them words of consolation from the Bible, and found to his joy that they were fellow-believers in the Lord Jesus. On parting he slipped his penny with a thankful heart into the hand of his afflicted brother. It was not until he had done so that he remembered, with dark forebodings, “What will wife say?”
Here Mrs. G. interrupted him with an exclamation, that “he must be a pretty husband who would rob his wife to give to a stranger.”
“Let me finish,” said he, “and you shall see, ma’am, how the Lord returned that little offering more than ten-fold.” He then went on to relate that, not daring to go back empty-handed, he walked up and down, asking the Lord to supply his need, not for himself, for he was now no more hungry, but for his wife’s sake. While walking to and fro, a gentleman inquired of him the way to the post office; the soldier offered to show him the way, and while walking together the gentleman entered into conversation with him, and asked if he was not old G-, whom he had known years ago? G-replied that he was, upon which the gentleman put a shilling into his hand, and bade him God speed.
“Now,” added the old Christian, “is not our Master true to His Word, and does He not bless a hundredfold all we do for His sake?”
I was deeply touched by this narrative, and felt solemnly impressed with the fact of God’s individual providence, and with the wondrous links in that great chain of life, which reveal to those who look for them the unceasing care and love of Jesus for His people. I recalled to mind, also, the letter I had received this morning; so I inquired what was their present trouble.
Here Mrs. G. once more broke forth in complaints. The landlady had demanded their rent by twelve o’clock that day, as she had a payment to make up. They had but a few halfpence in the house, and the old woman was for hastening off her husband with some things from the mangle, which would bring them sixpence more. “But I could not get him to go!” exclaimed she; “he said he must first ask the Lord; so instead of doing as I bid him, there he has been sitting over the Bible, and as if he had not lost time enough already, he must needs go down on his knees, and all my shaking and scolding him could not get him up till just before you came! and now it’s within half-an-hour of twelve.”
Old G., I should have observed, was standing with his stick and hat in hand, and a bundle under his arm when I came in, as if ready to go out.
“How much do you owe?” I inquired.
“Just five shillings,” replied she. “It’s fifteen pence a-week, as you know, ma’am, and it is just four weeks last Saturday.”
I said nothing, but opened the letter. I read to her that portion which related to her husband, then gave him the five shillings’ worth of stamps.
It was a moment never to be forgotten. The old man stood speechless with joy, with his beaming eyes lifted up in sweet thankfulness to his heavenly Father, while Mrs. G. sank down upon a chair, and, covering her face with her hands, wept tears of shame and sorrow.
“May God forgive me!” said she, “I am a wicked woman. Yes, I see it all now. I didn’t believe it, but it’s just as G. read it out of that very Bible not half-an-hour back, ‘Before they call I will answer.’ O! I didn’t believe it – I didn’t believe it! May God forgive me!”
God’s love had at last melted her stubborn heart, and the overpowering sense of the fact, “Thou, God seest me,” made her tremble with fear for her unbelief.
From this time a brighter day began to dawn upon old G.’s night of sorrow. His wife, so long the hinderer of his peace, and the object of his agonizing intercession, would now often sit by his side when he read the Bible, which had become more needful to him than his daily bread.