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TH E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
It was not my intention to be im pressed by any words of song or testi mony; but I was. j Strange t h o u g h t s were surging through my mind. Here I was, a part of a religious meeting, but I knew there was nothing pious about me. In fact, among small boys, I had been one of the town’s worst tricksters. A bit shamefully I smiled to myself as I thought of the time I had dropped a crawly, brown cockroach down the winged collar of the deacon, there, as he knelt to pray in church. Pranks and punishment, and then more punishment; it had been like that all along. No, I mused privately, there was nothing saintly about me. Yet I found myself clutching the torch pole, my own heart gripped by a mighty, in describable power. Night after night I carried the torch. Forced by necessity to stand at quiet attention, I. had to let God speak to my innermost heart. But I did not go to the evangelistic meetings that fol lowed, for I felt no need to do so; I had given mental assent to the claims of Christ upon me, and thought I was good enough. It was when two notorious gang sters, Charlie Woodward and Harry Dean, sidled into the street meeting and were later gloriously converted, that I was jarred into spiritual wake fulness. A third "fellow, Jack O’Brien, was saved about the same time. These men were all young, only in their twenties. I heard them give their tes timonies. I saw the change in their lives—everybody did. .Charlie Woodward used to recount how he and his cronies had made their living by their wits. Too shrewd to carry guns, the young ruffians had armed themselves with “knuckle dust ers”—implements of steel about an inch thick into which one’s fingers could be forced. With this innocent appearing but effective weapon, they boldly held up people' on the street, even threatening their lives. In this nefarious business they had traveled throughout Australia.- True, they had served terms in prison when the law had caught up with them. But to my imaginative mind, these men had seen the world, and life. With awed admiration I looked up on them as they told of the excitements of their former evil life. But always there was the other side—the change that Christ had wrought. I knew, too, about that'tense period, immediately following their conver sion, when these two, whose prior training had been only in lawbreak ing, struggled for an honest livelihood. At- length, they began to raise and sell rabbits to earn funds. My mother, with her wise, sym-
THE BREWER’S BOY [Continued from Page 82]
IN EARLIER CHAPTERS From the beginning (in the Jan uary issue), this series has empha sized ~ one dominant fact: That, as, promised in Acts 16 :31, the Lord will s a v e individuals and whole families, as each one places personal faith in the Son of God. ;Chapter I concerned life in the Talbot home in Sydney, Australia, sojne forty years ago. There the mother, who was godly, tactful, and discerning, and the father “who never drank liquor and cautioned his boys not to touch it,” were sur rounded by e i g h t brightly mis chievous children. Chapter II presented a picture of the old church in Sydney, its activities, and its wise and human- hearted pastor. pathetic h e a r t , encouraged these young men. Whenever they could not dispose of their products elsewhere, the Talbot household bought them, and always invited the sellers to stay to dinner. I have no idea how many rab bits we consumed in the course of a few months, but I know that this par ticular food appeared on our table with monotonous regularity. We boys used to sniff knowingly as we entered the house: "What' again?" But the complaint, was superficial. Each o f us would listen to these guests for hours, glad for the privilege. Even Father would give spellbound attention to their talés. We all had to admit that to these men, Christ was a reality. We scrutinized them in unguarded mo ments. The testimony was consistent; always it rang. true. Subsequently, they became established in positions of high responsibility—Woodward as an evangelist and Dean as a pastor in Sydney—in which they continued until the Lord took them Home. % In those hard, earlier days, Mother observed what was going on. Some times I have wondered whether she was motivated so much by a desire to befriend the young converts as she was by the great yearning to edge her husband and children nearer the entrance to full satisfaction in Christ. In any case, God blessed what she did. Unknown to me, the lives and testi monies of Christian people were af fecting my thoughts. But when my brother Jim was cohverted, my heart was touched. Jim was four years my senior, and to my way of thinking he had every-
(Thanks be unto God forever for the longsuffering patience of the few who see in a roguish youngster a soul for whom Christ died!) Darkness was just beginning to set tle over the lovely old Sydney of my boyhood on that first night that we began our pilgrimage through streets that are as narrow and unplanned as those of Boston. Our course took us up one of the many winding and pre cipitous avenues that lead to the high er levels on which much of the city is built. Lights began to appear in white houses among the green, of the wooded hills; lights rose up from the harbor depths and outlined beautiful Port Jackson that stretched, fjordlike, be low us. Our little company came to a halt at a convenient location, and the meet ing began. I stood beside the tiny fold ing organ, so that a long clear beam of light was cast upon the page. Pres ently the music o f hymns was filling the night, and people came out of their homes to sit, listening, on their bal conies, or to crowd into the little group of those who sang. Favorite Sankey hymns predominated, like the one en titled “Tenderly Calling,” for which Fanny Crosby had written the mean ingful words: Turn thee, O lost one, care-worn and weary, Lo! the Good Shepherd is calling today; Seeking to save thee, waiting to cleanse thee, Haste to receive Him, no longer delay. List to His message, think of His mercy! Sinless, yet bearing 'thy sins on the tree; Perfect remission, life everlasting, Through His atonement He offers to thee.
E A C T E D J I E K
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