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ter of about fifteen years of age. After supper the entire family, in cluding the minister, gathered around the large open fireplace to spend the evening. 1 asked the father, “Have you a Bible in your home?” He said, “No.” “Is there a church or Sunday school in this community ?’ He an swered, “No.” “Does anyone ever preach here?” The same answer came as before, “No.” “Are you a Chris tian ?” Again the father answered, “No.” By this time the tears were streaming down the cheeks of both parents and several of the children. I told them as best I could the sweet, simple story of Jesus' and. His love, and then we all bowed before God in prayer. When we arose from our knees the father took me by the hand, and said, “I am a Christian.” In a fe;w minutes the mother did the same, saying, “I, too, am a Christian.” One after another of the children came, saying, “I am a Christian,” until all the family were sweetly saved. That night was heaven on earth to the tired Home Missionary and to all in that home. Next morning I went on my way, leaving behind me an entire family rejoicing in hope of the glory of God. Was it an accident that the storm came and forced me into that home to spend the night? No; the storm was but the hand of our Heav enly Father leading His servant where His Spirit had already prepared the way for the message of life everlast ing through Jesus Christ our Lord. At midnight a call came to the home where I was staying for me to visit a dying girl in another humble home across the creek about a mile away. I had preached in that com munity about a week before, and the girl who was said to be dying was in the service. I hurried to the home and stood by the bedside of the dying girl. I asked, “Are you trusting Jesus
taught him the prayer he whispered into the ear of our blessed Jesus in his dying hour. May God grant that all who read these lines may be able to say in life’s last hour, “I am ready, Lord; I am ready.” In a certain community where there had been no preaching or religious services for many years there was a dear old Christian woman who had kept the faith and whose soul was deeply troubled because of the spiri tual condition of her friends and her neighbors. She wrote me a pathetic letter telling me all about the destitute condition of the community, and urg ing me to come and hold a meeting. She closed her letter by saying, “I don’t know where you will find a place to eat or sleep if you come; but, oh, do please come. My poor heart is breaking over the condition of this community, and I can’t live but a lit tle while unless something is done. Please come.” As soon as possible I went to that community. For ten days I preached in the little school house on the hill side, and seventy-five souls were saved. Some day when we all appear before the judgment bar all these precious souls will be stars, not in my crown, but in the crown of that dear old child, of God, who said, ¡“1 can’t live long unless something is done. My heart is breaking over the condition of this community.” Oh, for more hearts that are burdened for the salvation of the lost whom Jesus came to seek and to save from death. —Luke 19:10. On one of my journeys from one of our Home Mission stations to an other a heavy rain came on late in the evening, and I was forced to spend the night in a home where I had never been before. The home had father and mother, five sons and four daugh ters, the youngest child being a daugh
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