I was staying at the home of Brother Morton Petersen. He and his crew had not returned as yet. It seemed that most of the population of the town was standing on the hills looking for his return. I heard someone say to his wife, "Marie, do you expect Morton to return?" She answered, "He has been out so many times and has come back, and I expect him back this time." He generally went farther out than any of the fishermen because the farther out the fish were supposed to be larger and better.
We stood out there for two hours or more. About five o'clock someone said, "I see a dark spot out there." A little later someone else shouted, "I see a spot, too!" And then we began to see the spot more and more often, and at last they came safely to land—and not a bucket of water in the boat.
On our way home I asked Brother Petersen how he had gotten along. He said,
"When we realized the storm was on hand we packed up our fishing lines and
I ordered my partner to take care of the motor and I myself took charge of
the rudder. My partner was a saved man but we had a boy who was not saved.
I ordered him to be ready to dip out the water if any got in the boat."
I asked him whether they did much talking during that terrible storm and he said, "No, I was praying all the time that we might reach land safely, because the young man with us was not saved and he was the sole support of his widowed mother, his father and one or two brothers having gone down somewhere in the North Sea not so long ago. We were getting along very well—for the Lord helped me steer the boat right—but the worst that we had to meet was just before we landed—there were three sandbars we had to cross. If the waves struck us just right we would get over, but if not, we would get stuck in the sandbars, and there would be no help for us. When we came to the first one a big wave carried us safely over the sandbar. I said 'Thank God, we are over the first one;' and so it was with the other two; and each time I said, 'Thank God for taking us over, and too, for not letting the water get into our boat.'"
A week later I embarked on the steamer Olaf Barger, sailing from Fredriksen, Denmark, to Sweden. As I was going on board the boat the Captain came to me and asked whether I could spare him a few minutes before we landed in Sweden, as he wished to have a talk with me. When we got so far that we could begin to see the rocky coast of Sweden he came to me and began his narrative. He said, pointing ahead, "You see that three-mast schooner standing upon that rock?" I said, "Yes, I see it." "You remember the awful storm we had a week ago today. We were just coming out from Gottenburg to return to Denmark—an hour's sailing—and the schooner called for help but we were unable to even help ourselves so that we could not possibly help them. They were blown upon the rocks, but the people were saved." Then he pointed to the left to two big rocks, and continued, "And right there was a small steamer in trouble. They, too, called for help but we could not give it and they went down.
"We now saw that it would be impossible for us to reach Denmark and were fortunate in managing to turn the ship's course back toward Gottenburg. I tied myself to the bridge with an inch rope. Down into the waves we went and I said to myself, 'We have seen the sun for the last time.' But we came up and went down again many, many times. Then I did something I had never in all my life done before—I am sixty-five years old—I prayed the Lord to save my ship and all that were sailing with me. Along in the afternoon I found myself calling on God for salvation of my soul, and the Lord did save me and finally brought my ship, and those sailing with me, safely into the harbor at nine o'clock that evening, it having taken us nine hours to do one hour's sailing.
"Knowing that you were a minister of the gospel I wanted to tell you the story that you might perhaps tell it to others."
How longsuffering and merciful is the Son of God toward the children of men that when they repent and turn to Him, HE FORGIVES THEM.
* * * * *
One time when I arrived home from one of my evangelistic tours I found that my two young sons who were twins, eleven years of age, had been cutting hay. It was all raked and rowed up ready for hauling, and they were rejoicing that I had come as they were counting on me to help them haul and stack the hay. They said, "Dad, tomorrow you will have to help us." I said, "All right, we will have to get up early to get it done as I am leaving the following day to start another meeting."