GOD'S LOVE by Louis Albert Banks

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Apr 12, 1905

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 31, No. 15.

GOD'S LOVE.

By Louis Albert Banks

[Louis Albert Banks, D. D., in S. S. Times.]

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have eternal life."

MARGARET MEREDITH tells how a notorious rough named Ike Miller, the terror of a mining district in the north of England, was converted. Henry Morehouse, a young evangelist scarce out of his boyhood, was preaching to a company of these miners, when Ike Miller came in, and took a seat near the front. Preachers and helpers trembled, for this wicked man had threatened to break up the services. Henry Morehouse preached on God's love in Jesus Christ, and he longed to reach the heart of the wild, grimy miner who sat so strangely quiet gazing into his face.

After the meeting the men gathered around the preacher regretfully.

"Ah, Henry, you didn't preach right. You ought to have preached at Ike Miller. You had a great opportunity and you lost it. That softly sort of preaching won't do him any good. What does he care about love? You ought to have told him the dreadful punishment he is going to get." The young preacher only said in a boyish tone, "I am real sorry I did not preach to him right. I did want so to help him."

Meanwhile the big miner was tramping home. His wife ran in front of the children as he came in, but she stared in bewilderment; he was not drunk; he was not scowling. He put his arms around her, and kissed her, and said, "Lass, God has brought your husband back to you." Then, gathering up the shrinking children, "My little boy and girl, God has brought your father back to you. Now let us all pray," and he knelt down. There was a silence, but for many sobs; he could not think of any words; his heart was praying, but Ike Miller had uttered no prayer since he was a little boy. At last, words from those distant days came back to him—something that his mother had taught him; and from that hovel floor, in the midst of that remnant of an abused family, to be abused no more, he sounded out in rugged gutturals through his sobs:

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child; Pity my simplicity, Suffer me to come to Thee."