THE K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
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to hear that last Monday I openly con fessed the Son of God as my personal Saviour and have decided to trust in Him, no matter what might befall me from now on. To tell the truth, I never intended to take this momentous step, but He made me do it in spite of myself. I can tell you that things have looked different ever since and I am sure that He is not going to forsake me in time of need. I have spoken to a few fellows about God’s won derful love, and with God’s help I am sure that I can get some to come to listen to His teaching. I cannot speak to them myself as, I would like to, but as long as •I can convince them that the Christian life is the only life to lead, I think that I am doing a little work for our Master, and I can safely leave their conversion to Him.” Pray that God may bless this fellow wherever he may be. Those who know what the life of a sailor on a lumber ves sel is like, can readily see how God has been working with him. Pray also that He may enable the worker, and workers, to be soul-winners, winning souls to Him. Christ’s Power to Save a Drunkard The face which looked out of the sec ond story window of the Bible Institute seemed to the passerby to be anxiously -in search of something, or somebody, and in a desperate hurry, THE WORK “What’s the trouble?” IN THE SHOPS we called. “I’m look- David Cant. ' ing for someone to go at once and talk to a man about his soul. Can you go? One of our Bible women is keeping guard over him till reinforcements arrive. Here’s the address.” It was close in, so we were soon at the rooming house, listening to the particu lars. The story was as ancient as death itself, repeated countless times, in count less lives and countless places since sin entered the world and death by sin: Two bright young lives starting out together, and then .the development of the drink
habit wrecking the home. The young wife had stood it as long as she could, but just the night before, for the sake of their little girl, had packed up; her meager possessions and taken the journey back to her own mother. They seemed such quiet, refined folks, and the Bible Woman had brought the wife to Jesus a few weeks previous. He was a good, kind husband and father, except for these periodical sprees, but when they came upon him he lost "control and went the limits. So for the sake of the child, by mutual consent, she had gone and the man alone, in a dazed, drunken, stupor, was in the next room. As we were talk ing we heard his step, evidently going out for some more of the “stuff.” Quick as a flash, the Bible woman was after him, and with a tact and gentleness which only Christ’s constraining love can give, she had locked the two of us together in his room. There was no beat ing about the bush; it was a grapple for a soul; the conscience ' must be reached, the sharp knife must be used, and he must be brought face to face with Christ, for the devil would contest every inch of the way. So at once the subject was broached which brought us together. There was a common ground on which we could meet, for the same, craving, the same ungovernable thirst, the same defeat had for many years possessed the writer, until one never-to-be-forgotten night over twenty-five years ago, the perfect, abso lute cure had been discovered,—the cure not only for this special form of sin, but the very root which produces the fruit. Since that “beginning of days” there has never been the slightest desire or craving for the stuff in any form. “And,” said we, “because of that marvellous discovery, we are here to pass this absolute, perfect cure on to you.” The poor fellow, unwashed, unkempt, dishevelled, wild-eyed, surrounded with all the awful evidences of his debauch, passing back and forth, suddenly stopped and lifting his blood-shot eyes to ours, asked with all the agony of a despairing
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