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TRUSTING AND DOING

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Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Thursday, February 26, 1880

FromThe Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 55, No. 9

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TRUSTING AND DOING.

ONE morning, many years ago, a shabby young man, who would now be denominated a tramp, was shown into the study of a rural minister.
“Well, my friend, what can I do for you?” inquired the old minister, looking up from his newspaper. “You appear weary; pray sit down.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied the other, gladly seating himself in an arm-chair. “I have walked the shoes off my feet looking for work, and spent what little money I had; and as I arrived here in the village a stranger, I thought that you might know of some one who would employ me. I’ll work at anything, for I’m almost in despair. I did n’t know that a healthy young fellow could come as near starvation as I have been.”
“Are you hungry now?”
“No, sir; I begged my breakfast of an old colored woman, and then cut some wood for her; but I was so weak I could scarcely handle the ax.”
“Do you trust in God?”
“I should have died long before this if I had n’t, sir. I’m a Christian, and I teach in Sunday-school at home.”
“Have you been very anxious about the salvation of souls as you traveled along?” inquired the old man, glancing at him over the top of his glasses.
“No, sir; I have not. I have thought of nothing but my old father and mother, and of getting work; but I have trusted in God.”
“Just hear this,” invited the minister, turning the leaves of a Bible at his elbow: “‘Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.’ Do you believe this? Have you ever read this?”
“It sounds familiar to me, and I believe it, certainly.”
“Then you see where the trouble has been; you have obeyed but half the injunction; you have trusted in God, and forgotten to do good. Now, as you are looking for work this morning, will you take this bundle of tracts with you, and when you have distributed them return to me?”
“I will take them with pleasure,” returned the young man, rising; “but will you not direct me to some one?”
“No; the Lord will take care of that, if you are in earnest,” smiled the minister, shaking his hand cordially.
With a more hopeful heart, Henry Weston passed into the street, where he distributed many of the tracts among the children on their way to school. Some of them hesitated, glancing at his ragged clothing, but his smile and pleasant word reassured, so that not one gave a refusal. Stopping before a shoe-store he saw an old man standing in the door-way. Selecting “A Closer Walk with God,” from his package, he handed it to him, saying, “Will you please read this, sir? My old father is very fond of it.”
The old man glanced at the tract and then at him.
“Seems to me, young man, you’d better spend your money for shoes instead of tracts,” he said gruffly.
“They were given to me to distribute as I go about looking for work,” he answered gently.
“Then why did n’t you ask me for work?”
“I intended to, but something in your manner reminded me of my sick old father, three hundred miles from here, and so I gave you the tract that he liked.” Henry was passing on, when the old man detained him.
“Come into the store and choose a stout pair of shoes, my son; and I’ll trust the Lord to pay me for them.”
Silent with surprise, Henry followed him, and was soon fitted with a pair of stout shoes, and after warmly expressing his thanks, hastened on his way.
Entering every store, he asked for work, being courteously treated by all; but as his stock was running low, he decided to inquire at some of the handsomest dwelling-houses. On a lawn under a tree he found a feeble old lady sitting alone; touching his old hat he laid “Light at Eventide” upon her lap, and was turning away when she faintly recalled him.
“Will you stop a moment? I am curious to know how one so poor as you are has time to distribute tracts. Will you excuse the question from an old lady?”
Removing his hat he told her his story, scarcely repressing his tears when speaking of the new shoes.
“Would you accept a suit of clothes that belonged to my son, who has lately died?” asked the old lady at its close. “They are nearly new, and will fit you.”
Gratefully accepting them, he went to the house with her, and was shown into a room where he was allowed to choose a whole outfit, from stockings to collar and necktie. After arraying himself in the neat business suit, he told his benefactress that in his old clothes he asked for the humblest employment, but now he should ask for any office short of the Presidency.
With his last tract he entered a large carpenter’s shop in a side street, that had escaped his notice. “Will you please accept this?” he asked, laying “What is Eternity?” on a desk before which a middle-aged man stood figuring.
“What is time? is of more consequence to me, just now,” he replied. “I’m short of a hand to-day.”
“I’m a carpenter, looking for work—”
“Just go to work on that sash in the corner there, and I’ll decide upon your wages when I see what you are worth.”
At noon Henry entered the old minister’s study.
“Excuse me—you have the advan—Why, it’s the young fellow that did good as well as trust in the Lord!” almost shouted the minister. “I knew the Lord would keep his promise. Now, come and have some dinner, and tell me all about it.”—S. S. Times.