IT WAS a little mission room, where a crowd of poor had gathered to hear a young lady sing hymns. Her high, clear, lovely voice rang out in the well-known hymn called,
“What a Friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear;
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer.”
“Listen to that, friend,” said Joe, a poor laborer, to a tramp named Chris Brown. “When you’re in want, ask God to help you.”
“In what words, Mate?” asked Chris. “I was never taught to pray. It would hardly come from me.”
Joe looked doubtful. “I have heard my children say, ‘Give us this day our daily bread’,” he said slowly; “I ‘spect that’ll suit you. It means breakfast and supper too.”
The lights were being turned off as the two strangers waited. “If you’re in search of work, Mate,” said Joe, who had a little home to go to, “I’ve heard they want men on the rail at Derby. Perhaps you could tramp there.”
It was not a cheerful lookout for Chris Brown. He had never been taught to pray. But despairing of finding a job, he joined others and took the road to Derby. They were anything but a cheerful party, as they tramped along wearily.
Walking all day, they came to an empty barn standing close to the highway.
“Let’s rest here,” suggested one, and the others agreed. “The police won’t catch us. We’ve no lights nor pipes, and we’ll have a good sleep, anyhow.”
“I wish that Jesus we heard about could help us now,” said one of the men, hopelessly. “We need a friend, surely.”
“Here you, Chris; you’ve been to the mission services; you’re the best to put up a prayer. Out with it, man.”
Chris looked around in consternation. The others waited. After a bit of thinking, he remembered the only prayer he had ever been taught.
“Give us this day our daily bread,” he said sturdily, “and that means breakfast or supper, please.” He did not dare to ask for both!
Now He to whom children pray often gives those who call upon Him more than they either ask or deserve. Even while Chris was putting up his prayer, the barn door opened and a lantern flashed into the place. The visiting policeman saw a strange sight. Five men kneeling in a circle with fast closed eyes, their hats clutched tightly in their hands. He drew back softly.
“I’ve seen many a tramp on this road,” he confessed afterward, “but never one on his knees before. It just flabbergasted me.”
Waiting till each poor traveler said “Amen” to Chris Brown’s petition, the officer came back loyally.
“You needn’t stir, men,” he said, as the five tried to apologize and shuffle off. “You can sleep in the barn all night if you clear out before daybreak. Men who say their prayers don’t do damage. And here,” he said, “is some bread and meat. It isn’t much, it was meant for one man only, but you’re welcome to it.”
The poor tramps were thunderstruck. God had sent their supper, surely, and was sending them breakfast too, for the good-hearted policeman, whose heart no doubt the Lord had touched, gave their leader a quarter. You’ll find Lockhart’s Coffee Shop open when you get to town in the morning, and you can get a cup of cocoa for a nickel,” he informed them. “Now, goodnight, men. Be off before sunrise, that’s all.”
Some months afterward, Chris Brown again found himself back at the little mission. This time he had a good pair of shoes on his feet, a good coat, and a little money in his pocket. He found a Friend in Jesus — God’s best and greatest gift to man.
“You see,” he said to the lady in charge of the mission room, “God was as good as His word. He just gave us five fellows what we asked for at once. And He has done much more for me. I have a room now in Derby, and a steady job.”
To those who hunger in their souls, unsatisfied by this world’s pleasures, to those who come to Jesus, God gives the bread of life.
ML-07/12/1964