72
February 1932
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
ling, rather softly now, as he passed the shabby, leaning figure. And then he stopped and looked hard at the man under the ragged slouch hat. He peered, almost unbe lievingly, into the haggard, marred face. “ Jake Greene?” he queried. The figure merely nodded. He came close and held out his hand. “ Jake,” he said gently, “ Jesus loves you, and He wants to help you.” “ Oh, no, He don’t, child. You needn’t try to tell me that.” The man spoke with unexpected harshness, and the boy drew back, afraid. But still he could not go on and leave him. “ It’s cold here, Jake. Come on over in our mission. It is not far, and you can get good and warm. Perhaps Father will give you a cup of coffee. We do that some times. Come on along with me.” The interest and friendliness, as well as the thought of food and warmth, caused the man to soften and yield. Wilfred’s father met them, and was more than glad to do something to help this man to whom he owed much. In a little while, Jake was seated before a simple, but hot and appetizing meal. There was a gospel service in the hall that night, and Wilfred’s father gave a simple message on the text, “ Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord : though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” He-dwelt on the awfulness of sin and the helplessness o f man to rid himself of its power or to save himself from its. penalty. Then he portrayed God’s loving provision for man in his sin: a new heart, a new nature, a new life, and that life Christ Himself within. He showed how Christ on the cross had cancelled the debt of sin, and as he pic tured the terrible condition o f a sinner before the right eous God, facing a judgment and a debt he was in no wise able to pay, the conscience-stricken and convicted embez zler on the back seat trembled and shook in his chair. The invitation was given to come and accept this won derful salvation. Jake Greene started to rise, but it seemed that a superhuman power thrust him back into his chair. And then a little hand was laid on his arm, and a boyish voice full of tears said, “ Jake, won’t you come?” “ Yes,” he said. And that night a soul found his God. The whole world for Jake Greene seemed changed the next day, but still he was not happy. He spent most of his evenings at the mission, but one evening he asked if he might talk to the minister and his wife alone. He told them that he had a confession to make, that his real name was not Jake Greene, but was Robert Linton—Bob Lin ton, he was called. And then he told them all, the Story of his sin and wrong. “ Are your father and mother still living, Jake?” Mrs. Dolman asked. •They saw his head drop, and for a few minutes they waited. “ I don’t know.” “You must write to your father, Jake,” she said. And the next evening Jake went to his room and wrote a long, long letter, full of tender expressions of love, telling of his deep repentance, of the pardon he was assured God had given, and begging his father’s forgiveness. He told of his life during the months that had intervened, and how he had found Christ as his Saviour. His heart fairly sang as he mailed that letter on the boat that was leaving in a few hours. He sent it by registered mail with return re- [Continued on page 78]
Jake Greene was promised a position to his liking, and had found a comfortable roôm. When he had purchased a moderately priced but warm winter outfit, he no longer looked like a tramp but like a rough but prosperous miner. He at once sprang into popularity with a large element in the town, though there was a certain aloofness which his new friends noticed and ascribed to his modesty on account of thé incident with the boy. They drew him into their so cial life and the inevitable cards. They asked him to play with them, but he refused. Finally one evening, he yielded. And then they knew. He began playing for larger and larger stakes ; much money changed hands, and most of it reached the pockets of Jake Greene. There were some angry words as they parted, most of the men going grumbling to their homes. Jake sought his bed in the early morning hours, but not to sleep. He moaned and groaned and tossed, he tore his hair in helpless remorse and fury, he hated the men who had caused his downfall, and he feared he might be tempted to kill them. For that he had met his downfall that night, he knew only too well. It was cards that had proved his ruin, cards that had driven him from home and friends and had involved him in financial difficulties and made him an embezzler. He had vowed never to touch them again, to shoot himself if he ever did. With all the. strength of his will, he had resisted temptation through the days of bitter adversity, and now, just as life was beginning to open to him as something worth, while, he had fallen into a trap, and the old gaming fever was burning in his blood. The next morning, he looked wan and haggard. For a f e w days, he avoided his friends, and they did not seek him out. He did his work, ate alone, and went to his room at night. But after a while he began to relent, and a week or so later, he met with the bunch again. They asked him to join them, but they did not insist that he play. The old happy relationship seemed to be restored, but each time he met with them the temptation to get into the game was stronger. Soon came another night when they asked him to play, and he did. The result was the same as before ; he won again and again. Some of the men grew angry, harsh names were called, and the party broke up in a quarrel. This time Jake Greene did not struggle against it. What •was the use ? He had tried and failed ; God knows he had tried hard enough, but it was no use. He began to gamble every night. He shunned the old crowd, but he found plenty of other men. He played poker, and he drank. Sometimes he never went to his bed all night. He began to be spoken of as a dissipated young man throwing his life away. One night he had been losing heavily, and he started to drink to forget it. The next morning, when he should have been at work, he was sleeping in a drunken stupor in the back o f a gambling dive. That day he lost his position. He drank and gambled some more. He did odd jobs when he could get them, but he was trusted by no one. There came a night when he was homeless, penniless, friendless, and without employment. He had pawned every decent garment that he had. He stood leaning against- a wall, too discouraged to move. He must find some way to end it all, but how and where? Down the street toward him came a merry, boyish whistle. Where had he heard that whistle before? What memories were these that stirred within him ?
“What a Friend we have in Jesus, All oür sins and griefs to bear.”
The words seemed a mere taunt to him now. But the sunny-faced boy was coming nearer. He was still whist
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