p. 8 | TRUE BLUE by A. Stuttaford

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 18, 1893

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 19, No. 45.

TRUE BLUE.

By A. Stuttaford

BY A. STUTTAFORD.

SOME years ago it was the writer's privilege to listen to a discourse by a humble street preacher, and the experience gained on that occasion will never be forgotten.

Walking homeward one Sunday evening from the City Temple, where the writer regularly attended divine service while in the world's great metropolis, his attention was arrested by a crowd gathered a little way down a narrow street that ran off at right angles from the main road. On approaching he found a religious service about to commence.

The speaker was mounted on a small portable platform, and was surrounded by a company of singers. Not being a public thoroughfare, this place was no doubt selected for the meeting on that account, because of its freedom from the noise and disturbance of passing vehicles. After a hymn had been sung, the speaker invited to the service the throngs promenading the pavement at the end of the street, but observing that many persons paused just long enough to see what was in progress, and then, having gratified their curiosity as to the nature of the meeting, were soon lost again in the passing crowd, he tells them they will not hear, perhaps, as fine a discourse as they would like to listen to, but if they would remain, the company would endeavor to do them good. They had a message for them, and the message should not be despised because of the feebleness of the instrument conveying it.

Having introduced the reader to the speaker of the evening, the writer begs leave to withdraw, trusting that the interview will be found to be both interesting and profitable.

Said the speaker: A little captive Jewish maiden in the land of Assyria, moved to sympathy with the sufferings of her master, said, "Would God my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria; for he would recover him of his leprosy." The kind words, though spoken by a little girl, were heeded, and Naaman the Syrian, securing from his sovereign a letter of introduction to the king of Israel, undertook a long journey to find the prophet of God, and was rewarded for his perseverance and faith by being restored to his family sound in body—a happy man, ready to fill again the duties of his exalted position in the service of his king, and blessed also with a clearer view of the Great Physician than he had had before.

A deep-laid plot to assassinate a prisoner was revealed to a Roman officer by a young man. The warning was not disregarded because of the humble source from whence it came; but steps were immediately taken to meet the emergency, and so the purpose of the bloodthirsty enemy was frustrated and the beloved apostle Paul lived on to bless the world with many years of useful labor.

Now that an audience is secured, I will take up my part of the evening's exercises.

You see by my uniform that I am a seaman in Her Majesty's service. I want to tell you something about a comrade. He was an earnest, God-fearing man, and always ready to say a word for the Master. When off duty he might often have been seen among his shipmates endeavoring in an unobtrusive way to interest one or another in their own spiritual welfare.

One day at the officers' mess the conversation turned upon the crew, and the question was asked, Who is the happiest man on board? Various names were mentioned, as there came to mind the droll remarks, or ludicrous grimaces, or hanky-panky tricks of one and another of the crew, that would often set the ship's company in a roar of laughter. But the officer who raised the question was not satisfied with the answers given, and declared it to be his firm conviction that the happiest man on the vessel was the God-fearing sailor to whom I have alluded.

Some time afterward when at sea a circumstance occurred which put this man's profession of religion to a severe test, and proved the value of faith in God in time of danger. The alarm of fire was given—that alarm so much dreaded by the sailor on the deep. In spite of all efforts to subdue the flames, the fire gained the mastery. Step by step the crew were beaten back, and the flames seemed to revel in the victory they had gained. They hissed and roared like demons, and spars and yards and rigging crackled beneath their grip as they climbed heavenward. Sea and sky were soon lighted up with the glare of the burning vessel, which looked like a vast furnace, and then measures were taken to withdraw from the ship as hastily as possible before the powder magazine should explode.

The officers are the last to take to the boats. As they are about to push off, a sailor is seen rapidly descending the ladder. But as he reaches the boat and is about to step in, he is told there is no room for him, and is ordered in a commanding voice to find his comrades on the other side of the vessel.

You can scarcely credit the statement that such heartlessness can exist beneath "the flag that's braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze." However, I will leave the fact with you.

A roaring furnace above and around, the deep sea beneath! What is to be done? Should he even succeed in reaching safely the other side of the ship, in all probability he would find that his comrades and the last boat had gone.

Poor Jack! May the God in whom thou trustest be thy stay in this trying hour. But look! He still stands upon the ladder—he has overcome his surprise and is prepared for

his destiny. With hand outstretched toward the stars he is heard to speak, and the retreating boat just catches the words, "There is room for me over there!"

To all human appearances the last incident in a life history is about to be entered by the recording angel, and then a long, sweet rest until the trump of the Archangel shall shake with clarion notes old ocean's profoundest depths, commanding the sea to restore the precious dead in Christ that lie therein, when thou shalt be brought forth, and the Captain of thy salvation whom thou didst follow so humbly here will place upon thy brow with his own hands an immortal crown, and bring thee to the feast that shall be spread in his Father's kingdom.

Then, then, ye Christian warrior, The song and feast shall flow To the fame of His name When the storm has ceased to blow, When the battle's strife is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow.

This is the religion that we recommend to you to-night. Is it not a religion worth having? We beg of you, in the name of our Master, in view of the uncertainty of life, the obligation under which you are placed to your Creator and best Friend, the duty you owe yourself—study your highest interests, and close in at once with the offer of pardon and eternal life, and make the best of both worlds. Take your passage with us on the good old gospel ship, which will carry us in safety over the rough ocean of life, and land us on the peaceful shores of the heavenly Canaan.

Death with his arrow may soon lay us low; Safe in our Saviour we fear not the blow; Jesus has broken the bars of the tomb; Joyfully, joyfully, will we go home.

Sounds of sweet music there ravish the ear; Harps of the blessed your strains we shall hear, Filling with harmony heaven's high dome; Joyfully, joyfully, Jesus, we come.

Bright will the morn of eternity dawn; Death will be conquered, his scepter be gone; Over the plains of sweet Canaan we'll roam, Joyfully, joyfully, safely at home.