Your ShelfYour Projects

THE CLAIM WAS MET

3%

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jun 30, 1898

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 24, No. 26.

Read the full edition

THE CLAIM WAS MET.

[Republished by request.]
“No,” SAID the lawyer, “I sha’n't press your claim against that man; you can get some one else to take the case or you can withdraw it, just as you please.”
“Think there isn’t any money in it?”
“There would probably be a little money in it; but it would come from the sale of the little house the man occupies and calls his ‘home.’ But I don’t want to meddle with the matter, anyhow.”
“Got frightened out of it, eh?”
“Not at all.”
“I suppose the old fellow begged hard to be let off.”
“Well, yes, he did.”
“And you caved in, likely.”
“Yes.”
“What in creation did you do?”
“I believe I shed a few tears.”
“The old fellow begged you hard, you say?”
“No, I didn’t say so; he didn’t speak a word to me.”
“Well, may I ask, whom did he address in your hearing?”
“God Almighty.”
“And he took to praying, did he?”
“Not for my benefit in the least. You see I found the little house easily enough, and knocked on the outer door, which stood ajar, but nobody heard me; so I stepped into the little hall, and saw through the crack of the door a cozy sitting-room, and there on the bed, with her silver head high on the pillows, was an old lady who looked for all the world just like my mother did the last time I saw her on earth. Well, I was on the point of knocking again, when, she said, ‘Come, father, now begin; I am ready.’ Down on his knees by her side went an old white-haired man, still older than his wife, I should judge; and I couldn’t have knocked then for the life of me. Well, he began. First he reminded God that they were still His submissive children, mother and he, and no matter what He saw fit to bring upon them, they should not rebel against His will. Of course it was going to be hard for them to go out homeless in their old age, especially with poor mother so sick and helpless; and, O, howdifferent it might have been if only one of the boys had been spared! Then his voice kind of broke, and a thin white hand stole out from under the coverlid, and moved softly over his snowy hair. Then he went on to repeat that nothing could ever be so sharp again as the parting with those three sons—unless mother and he should be separated. But at last he fell to comforting himself with the fact that the good Lord knew that it was through no fault of his own that mother and he were threatened with the loss of their dear little home, which meant beggary and the almshouse—a place they prayed to be delivered from if it could be consistent with God’s will. And then he quoted a multitude of promises concerning the safety of those who put their trust in the Lord. In fact, it was the most thrilling plea to which I ever listened. At last he prayed for God’s blessing on those about to demand justice.”
Then the lawyer continued more slowly than ever: “And—I—believe I had rather go to the poorhouse myself to-night than to stain my hands and heart with the blood of such a prosecution as that.”
“Little afraid to defeat the old man’s prayer, eh?”
“Bless your soul, man, you couldn’t defeat that prayer. I tell you he left it all subject to the will of God; but he claimed that we were told to make known our desires to Him. But of all the pleading I ever heard, that moved me most. You see I was taught that kind of thing myself in my childhood, and why I was sent to hear that prayer, I am sure I don’t know—but I hand the case over.”
“I wish,” said the client uneasily, “I wish you hadn’t told me about the old man’s prayer.”
“Why so?”
“Well, because I want the money the place would bring; I was taught the Bible straight enough when I was a youngster, and I hate to run counter to what you tell me about it; I wish you had not heard a word about it, and another time I would not listen to petitions not intended for my ears.”
The lawyer smiled.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “you are wrong again. It was intended for my ears, and yours, too; and God Almighty intended it. My old mother used to sing about ‘God moves in a mysterious way,’ I remember.”
“Well, my mother used to sing it, too,” said the client, as he twisted the claim papers in his fingers. “You can call in the morning, if you like, and tell ‘mother’ and him the claim has been met.”
“In a mysterious way,” added the lawyer.
—Anon.