p. 397 | The Morning Caller by Clara Edna Rosencrans

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jun 20, 1916

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 43, No. 25.

The Morning Caller

By Clara Edna Rosencrans

Like a Cool Breeze on a Sultry Day

By Clara Edna Rosencrans

"WE have heard a joyful sound,— Jesus saves, Jesus saves. Tell with gladness all around, Jesus saves, Jesus saves. Bear the news to every land; Climb the steeps, and cross the waves. Onward! 'Tis the Lord's command. Jesus saves, Jesus saves."

THE words of the dear old hymn rang out clear and sweet. They drifted down the broad old stairway, mingling with the business and bustle of one of the city’s busiest streets. A young man, passing, paused to listen. Then, as the music died away and began again, he looked at his watch, noted that it was but eight o’clock, and turning, passed through the screen door and up the stairs.

The minister looked up quickly as the man’s shadow fell across the threshold. "Am I intruding?" asked a pleasant voice. "I heard you singing, and thought I would come up."

"By no means," said the minister cordially. "Come right in and help us sing."

The young man, a tall, dark-eyed fellow of perhaps twenty-five, who carried a small box under his arm, came in and took the offered seat. An invalid in her easy chair smiled upon him kindly. She took him for a book agent. A Bible and a hymn book were handed to the new arrival; and after the singing had ended, the morning Scripture lesson began.

The invalid, thinking him one of those much-to-be-pitied young men who know nothing of God’s holy word, offered to help him find his place; but he said quietly, "I have it, thank you."

When he began to read, she was charmed, and looked at him with a new interest. He read the words with an emphasis so true, and understanding so just, and moreover, with such a deep insight into the hidden meaning of the text, that the minister asked him to explain it. This he did in a way which showed that he had been well instructed in the things of God. To illustrate his point, he told a little story. It does not matter what the Scripture was. I will simply give you the story.

"If you will pardon me for being personal," he said, smiling at the minister, who nodded in kindly assent, "I will tell you a little incident, something that occurred to me this summer. I am a student at Drury College, working my way through school"—here the little mission family felt their hearts warm toward him—"and have just returned from Kansas, where I have been working in the harvest. It has been fearfully hot and dry out there, and the work was pretty hard for a fellow whose muscles were soft." He laughed a good-natured, boyish laugh, then went on more seriously: "Well, one day I was going along down the hot, dry, dusty road. I was tired, and feeling just a little blue and discouraged. I was thinking thus with myself: 'Why does the Lord allow me to have such a hard time, knowing, as He does, that I have consecrated my life to Him, and am trying to fit myself for His service?'"

There was something very winning about the speaker, and the family leaned forward to catch every word, and their interest was stirred. "I had reached this point in my mental complaining," went on the young man, "and was beginning to feel a deep pity for myself, when, looking down, I saw a land tortoise dragging itself along the dry, dusty highway. The sun beat upon it with fervid heat, still it kept on its slow way, apparently making for some point that the sluggish mind knew well. I stopped and looked at it. I picked it up and turned it over, and my heart read a lesson I shall not soon forget. This little creature, so helpless, so slow as to be the easy prey of almost any animal, even smaller than itself, and possessing, it would seem, but very little intellect, was under the special care of its Creator. He had given it an armor so strong and hard that the citadel of its life could only be reached by chopping it to pieces, as was done with the dauntless knight in ancient warfare when he could be conquered in no other way. And just to think how God cared for that little helpless animal, here in a big, unfriendly world, made me ashamed of my unbelief."

The minister smiled genially upon the narrator. "Yes," he said; "nature is full of these lessons, if we only read them."

It was now time to close the morning worship, so the visitor was asked to lead in prayer. What a truly wonderful prayer that was, so full of faith and hope, so rich in the words of the dear old blessed Book! It began with those grand opening words of the ninetieth psalm: "Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God." He prayed for the great and needy harvest fields where he hoped one day to labor; for the workers in the wicked city where his lot was now cast; for the minister who was trying to hold up the light of gospel truth before some of its worst element; and for the entire mission family.

The young man stayed on and talked a while longer. Then, saying that he had an engagement for nine o’clock, he took his leave. It was a pleasant little break for the minister in the rather monotonous life of every day —

meeting the worst side of humanity, ministering to the depraved and outcast.

The morning caller had come into the family like a cool breeze on a sultry day; and they all felt better—felt, too, that if he was a sample of the men "old Drury" was turning out, her work as a nursing mother was not in vain.