Jacob's Sermon | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Sep 17, 1885

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 36.

Jacob's Sermon.

"Had a good sermon, Jacob?" my wife asked me last night, when I came home from church.

Rachel was poorly, and couldn't go to meeting much, so she always wanted me to tell her about the sermon, the singing, and the people.

"Good singing, Jacob?"

"I'm sure I couldn't tell you."

"Many people out to day?"

"I don't know."

"Why, Jacob, what's the matter? What were you thinking about?"

"The sermon."

"What was the text?"

"I don't think there was any. I didn't hear it."

"I declare, Jacob, I do believe you slept all the time."

"Indeed I didn't. I was never more wide awake."

"What was the subject, then?"

"As near as I can remember, it was me."

"You! Jacob Gay!"

"Yes ma'am. You think it is a poor subject. I'm sure I thought so, too."

"Who preached? Our minister?"

"No; he didn't preach—not to me at any rate. 'Twas a woman—a young woman, too."

"Why, Mr. Gay! You don't mean it, surely. Those woman's right folks haven't got into our pulpit?"

"Well, not exactly. The minister preached from the pulpit, but I could not listen. I was thinking about my sermon. I will tell you about it. You know that young woman at the post-office, Mrs. Hyde's niece. She and I were the first ones at meeting, and we sat by the stove, warming. I have seen her a good deal in the post-office and at her aunt's, when I was there at work. She is pleasant spoken, and a nice, pretty girl. We were talking about the meetings. You know there's quite a reformation going on. She was speaking of this one, and that one, who was converted. There was quite a silence, and then she said sort of low, and trembling in her voice, and with a little pink blush on her cheek, and the tears just a starting:—

"Oh Mr. Gay, some of us were saying at the prayer-meeting, last night, that we did so want you to be a Christian."

"Her cheeks flushed redder, and the tears fell. I knew she felt it, and it was a cross to say it. I never was so taken back in all my life."

"Why, bless your soul," I said, "my child, I have been a member of the church forty years."

"My tears came then, and I guess my cheeks would have been redder than hers, if they war'nt so tanned."

"Do excuse me, Mr. Gay," she said. "Excuse me for hurting your feelings, but I didn't know you were a Christian. I never see you at prayer-meeting or Sabbath-school, and I have never noticed you at communion. I'm sorry I've hurt your feelings."

"Tut, tut, child," I answered. "No harm done. I'm glad you thought about an old man. I'm a member, as I said, but I haven't worked at it much, I'll allow. I don't go to prayer-meeting or Sunday-school because—well—I made the excuse to myself and other folks that Rachel was poorly, and needed me to stay with her, but I'm afraid the Lord wouldn't accept it."

"Just then the people began to come, and I took my seat, but the looks and words of that young woman went to my heart. I couldn't think of anything else. They preached to me all the meeting time. To think that some of the young folks in Wharton didn't know I was a member, and were concerned for the old man. I said to myself, by way of application, 'Jacob Gay, you've been a silent partner long enough. It is time you woke up and worked for the Lord; time to let your light shine so that the young folks can see it.'"—Golden Rule.