WHAT THE LIGHT DID by Viola E. Smith

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 28, 1901

WHAT THE LIGHT DID.

By Viola E. Smith

VIOLA E. SMITH.

THE night was dark; thick clouds hid the sky. The city clock struck the midnight hour. Against the row of silent buildings down by the river, a moving figure could be dimly discerned. It was that of a woman, an outcast child of sin. Where was she going, at such an hour, alone? She drew her shawl closer around her shivering form; she neared the river; she stood on its bank. She looked into its depths as many another has done. “O river!” said she, “you are dark and deep. My soul is dark with sin. You are a fit refuge for such as I. Receive me, and hide me from human sight.”

But as she stretched her arms for the fatal leap, the clouds parted. The silvery moonbeams shone upon the water. They became a thousand bright jewels upon its scintillant breast. The woman instinctively shrank back; for she loved darkness rather than light. Was it possible that the leaping, laughing, shimmering tide was the same which a moment before had been black as ink? Her guardian angel was very near just then. Bending over her, he whispered, softly, “If the pale light of the moon can so change the river, what can the white light from the throne of God do for your soul?” A ray had entered it already. She knelt, and uttered her first prayer: “God, be merciful to me a sinner.” And, like the publican of old, she went to her house justified.

The city clock struck one. The river murmured softly as it flowed on to the solemn sea; and the moonbeams danced upon its bosom. They had performed their mission.