In one of the great rock-galleries of Gibraltar two British soldiers had mounted guard, one at each end of the vast tunnel. One was a believing man a Christian whose soul had found rest upon the Rock of Ages; the other was seeking rest, but had not found it.
It was midnight, and these soldiers were going their rounds; the one meditating on the blood that had brought peace to his soul, the other darkly brooding over his own disquietude and doubts.
Suddenly an officer passes, challenges the former, and demands the watchword.
“The precious blood of Christ,” called out the startled veteran, forgetting for a moment the password of the night, and uttering unconsciously the thought which at that moment was filling his soul.
Next moment he corrected himself, and the officer, no doubt amazed, passed on.
But the words he spoke had rung through the gallery, and entered the ears of his fellow-soldier at the other end, like a message from heaven. It seemed as if an angel had spoken, or rather, as if God Himself had proclaimed the good news in that still hour.
“The precious blood of Christ!” Yes, that was peace! His troubled soul was now at rest. That midnight voice had spoken the good news to him, and God had carried home the message “The precious blood of Christ.”
Strange but blessed watchword; never to be forgotten. For many a day and year, no doubt, it would be the joy and rejoicing of his heart.
We have entered on another year. We are mounting guard for another of the watches of the world’s night. Let us furnish ourselves with a heavenly watchword. Can we have a better than “The precious blood of Christ”?
Dr. Guthrie