him, he decided to pass up the meet ing and take a stroll down Market Street to the Embarcadero. As he walked along, thinking things over, he noticed a large piece of white cardboard a few feet in front of him. He gave it a careless kick and it flopped over. Staring him in the face were two words in large black let ters, “JESUS SAVES.” He said he had heard men in the Gospel Mis sions tell of wonderful things God had done but always his inner thought was, “ The dirty liars!” “Well, after standing and staring at those two words I said to myself, ‘There’s something to what that guy’s been telling me.’ So I turned around and here I am.” “Herbert, why don’t you accept the Lord right now?” “How do you know I haven’t? ” That was all the satisfaction he would give. I left for Los Angeles and a few nights later attended the regular Monday night meeting of the Fish ermen’s Club and to my glad sur prise there was Herbert! He had ridden down on a freight train. He heard the lesson given to a hundred young students from Biola. The fol lowing Monday he came back again with a friend. He walked up to me with his face all aglow, “Gee, Buck! (my college nickname) pray for this guy! I almost got him saved.” He said nothing about himself until the following Monday when he gave me the thrilling news that Jesus was his Saviour. There was a great change in his whole manner as I rejoiced with him. Then he said: “What about these cigarettes?” I had never mentioned the matter of smoking as I felt the Holy Spirit would in due time take care of that. He went on to say: “ The Bible says the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit and now I feel mean when I smoke.” I showed him II Corin thians 5:17 and he said, “ That verse surely tells what is happen ing to me.” My wife and I roomed across the street from the Bible Institute. The three of us went there and knelt in prayer, thanking the dear Lord for what He had done. Herbert prayed especially for my wife who was not well. As we said our farewells he told us he was leaving for Brooklyn as he wanted to see his mother. We never saw him again. But when we think of him, the words of David’s prayer come to mind, “ Blessed be the Lord God, the God of Israel, who only doeth wondrous things. And blessed be His glorious name for ever ; and let the whole earth be filled with His glory; Amen and Amen.”
M a n y h a p p y e x p e r ie n c e s were mine during the three years lowing remains fixed in memory: One Saturday while giving out tracts to passers-by on Main Street in downtown Los Angeles, I saw three young men coming toward me. I handed a tract to the nearest one. “What’s this?” “ It’s a Gospel tract.” “ I don’t believe in that stuff.” I tried to reason with him but to no avail. He told me his name was Herbert Coyne from Brooklyn, New York, and that he had been a prize fighter. I told him we were having a meeting at the Fisherman’s Club the following Monday and would like to have him come for supper. Monday evening I was on the look out for him. To my surprise, he ap peared with one of the young men I had seen him with on Main Street. Half way through the meal it dawned on him that he and his friend were the fish and that there would be no fishing party as he had supposed. As soon as supper was over, he and his friend prepared to leave. I drew Herbert aside and had a further word with him and a short prayer. He refused to accept the Lord. I told him I was going to pray for him. “You can if you want to, but it won’t do no good.” He was interested to learn that I was a graduate of the Columbia University School of Mines but that was as far as his interest went. I put his name in my prayer book and for the next nine months prayed daily for him and asked the Lord that we might meet again. The following July I spoke at a street meeting in San Francisco. As I stepped off the speaker’s box, I heard: “Hello there, Columbia!” It was Herbert Coyne. He said he had ridden the rods all the way from New York. In those days riding the brakerods beneath a railroad coach was a risky way of stealing a ride. We had quite a talk and as we
parted I again asked him to receive the Lord. “ Mr. Whitwell, that stuff’s all right for you guys, but they ain’t nothin’ in it for the likes o’ me.” He had no end of fault to find with God and the Bible and refused to accept my New Testament, but I in sisted and managed to get it into the breast pocket of his shirt. The next day he was again at the street meeting. We sat on the run ning board of a parked auto and talked for a long time. He told me he had read Romans and part of 1 Co rinthians and added the astonishing remark that he thought Romans a “wonderful book.” He gave me more good news. After yesterday’s street meeting, as he was walking up Mar ket Street, he met a friend who of fered him a job selling bootleg whis key to sailors. He needed work and was on the point of accepting when the thought came: “ I’m a fine guy, I am, me with a Bible in my pocket figurin’ on selling booze to sailors, so I turned him down.” “ Good for you, Herbert, the Lord will bless you for that.” “Well, I don’t know nothin’ about that, but that’s what I did.” I was happy and could see that the Holy Spirit was dealing with him. He was really touched when I told him I had prayed daily for him and had asked the Lord to have us meet again. I told him to keep the Testa ment and invited him to come and hear Dr. Courtland Meyers that eve ning. He sat spellbound as he heard our Lord exalted and of His power to save sinners. I asked him to join my wife and me for supper the fol lowing evening and to again hear Dr. Meyers. He was shy about meet ing my wife but said he would come and hear Dr. Meyers if he could find his buddy and get him to come. The meeting started but there was no sign of Herbert and his friend. Just as Dr. Meyers started to speak, he appeared. After the meet ing he said he went to the pool hall looking for his friend. Unable to find
spent at Biola as a student. The fol
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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