ALL DAY long the terrible storm had raged along the coast. Every moment the wind seemed to grow more boisterous, beating the sea into billows of foam. The great ship with its crew and many passengers aboard wallowed helplessly in the trough of the mighty waves. An aged seaman declared it was the worst storm he had ever experienced.
They were drifting near the rocks, and down below little groups of men and women huddled together and hoped for the best.
One young sailor seemed outwardly calmer than the rest. He sat a little apart, awaiting the end without fear. His thoughts wandered far away to his old home where several years ago he left his aged mother, who prayed every day for her absent wayward boy.
“It can’t last much longer,” remarked one of the passengers, “I wonder what time it is” — and looking at his watch, he cried: “It’s just eight o’clock. The storm has lasted for nearly ten hours.”
“Eight o’clock, did you say?” remarked the young sailor. — “Eight? Why, back home my dear old mother is kneeling, praying to God to guard her absent boy. Before I left home she told me every evening at eight she would be praying to God to watch over and bless me. I’ve never thought of it before; but don’t you think, if God is as good as they say, He will hear my mother’s cry? Let’s ask Him now to watch over us; I haven’t prayed for many a day, but I believe He will listen to me for her sake.”
So they all knelt down, a few passengers and some of the crew, and the poor, wayward lad, who had never offered a prayer since as a little innocent child he knelt at his mother’s knee, now cried from the depths of his heart asking that He who guards the widow and the fatherless would hear his prayer, and save the lives of the many on board. When they rose from their knees, a strange and wonderful calm had entered into the hearts of all; and death did not appear so terrible a thing as it had only a little while before. Then, wonderful to tell, there came a cheer from the upper deck. The captain announced that they had left the rocks far behind them, and that gradually a softer wind blew. As the night wore on, the sailors watched while the sea, as though tired out, “sank like a little child to sleep.” God who is good to all His creatures, and even hears the ravens’ cry, had heard the first real prayer from that boy, prodigal though he was. He had seen his aged mother bowed low on her knees, pleading with an almost bursting heart that He would guard her absent boy and bring him home once again. Once again He had laid His hand on the waters, and at His “peace be still,” the winds and seas had obeyed.
As soon as the ship reached port, the young fellow hurried home to his mother. When she once clasped her son to her breast, she sobbed: “Now, my boy, I’m ready to go whenever the Lord shall call me; for He has indeed answered my prayer, and not only saved you from a terrible death, but taught you to know that He is willing to be your God and ever waits to hear the first cry of the wanderer for mercy.”
ML-09/17/1972