"Well," I said, "it is mortifying to call on God for mercy when you have never used his name except in oaths, but he will not turn you away. Ask God to forgive you, if you want to be forgiven."
He knelt down and prayed, only a few sentences. After he prayed, he rose and said, "What shall I do now?"
I said, "Go down to the church, and tell the people there that you want to be an out-and-out Christian."
"I cannot do that," he said; "I never go to church except to some funeral."
"Then it is high time for you to go for something else," I said.
At the next church meeting the man was there, and I sat right in front of him. He stood up and put his hands on the seat, and he trembled so much that I could feel the seat shake. He said:—
"My friends, you know all about me; if God can save a wretch like me, I want to have you pray for my salvation."
That was thirty years ago. Some time since I was back in that town, but did not see him. But when I was in California, a man asked me to have dinner with him. I told him I could not do so. Then he asked me if I remembered him, and told me his name.
"O!" I exclaimed. "Tell me, have you ever sworn since that night you knelt in your drawing-room, and asked God to help you?"
"No," he replied, "I have never had a desire to swear since then."—D.L.
Moody, in "Weighed in the Balances," Published by Morgan & Scott.