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How Much Does A Prayer Weigh?

How much does a prayer weigh? The only man I ever knew who tried to weigh one still doesn't know. He owned a little grocery store on the west side. The First World War had just ended, and it was the week before Christmas. A tired-looking woman came into the store and asked him for enough food to make a Christmas dinner for her children. The grocer asked her how much she could afford to spend. "My husband was killed in the war," she said, "and I have nothing to offer but a little prayer." This grocer confesses that he was not very sentimental in those days. A grocery store could not be run like a bread line. So he said, "Write it on a paper," and turned about his business. To his surprise, the women plucked a piece of paper out of her bosom and handed it to him over the counter and said, "I did that during the night watching over my sick baby." The grocer took the paper before he could recover his surprise, and then regretted having done so! For what would he do with it; what could he say? Then an idea suddenly came to him. He placed the paper, without even reading the prayer upon it, on the weight side of his old-fashioned scales. Picking up a loaf of bread nearby, he said, "We shall see how much this food is worth." To his astonishment the scale would not go down when he laid the loaf on the other side. To his confusion and embarrassment, it would not go down though he kept on adding more food, anything he could lay his hands on quickly, for people were watching him. He tried to be gruff and he was making a bad job of it. His face got red and he felt flustered. So finally he said, "Well, that's all the scales will hold anyway. Here's a bag. You'll have to put it in yourself. I'm busy." With what sounded like a gasp or a little sob, she took the bag and started packing the food, wiping her eyes on her sleeves every time her 2

arm was free to do so. He tried not to look, but he could not help seeing that he had given her a pretty big bag and that it was not full when she had finished. So without saying anything, he tossed down the counter to her several expensive items. Trying not to notice, he saw a timid smile of grateful understanding glistening in her eyes. When the woman was gone, he went to look at the scales, scratching his head and shaking the scales in puzzlement. Then he found the solution. When the paper had been placed on it, the scales had been broken. That grocer is an old man now. His hair is white. But he has never forgotten the incident. He never saw the woman again. And, come to think of it, he had never seen her before either. Yet, for the rest of his life, he remembered her better than any other customer he ever had. And he knew it had not been just her imagination, for he still had the slip of paper upon which the woman's prayer had been written, "Please, Lord, give us this day our daily bread." Used by permission. Taken from the book Shelter in the Storm. Available from Harvestime Books, Altamont, TN 37301.

THE HEAD NURSE'S STORY

When little Jem was first brought to the hospital, it was in a carriage with liveried servants. His father was a mill-owner in Pennsylvania, and Jem was an only child. He had the largest room in the private ward. His parent's brought the boy fruit, flowers, and books. "Please take them to that cripple in the next room, and to children in the free wards, with my lovelittle Jem Bruce's love," he would say, raising himself in bed, with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. In two month he recovered and went away, but two years afterward Mrs. Bruce brought him back. She was dressed in black, and asked for a cheap room. Mr. Bruce, I heard, was dead, and had left his widow little money. Jem's knee was worse than ever, but what a cheery, happy fellow he was! He soon learned the story of all the patients in the neighboring rooms, as he had done before. And when his mother brought him a bunch of pinks or a basket of apples, he would eagerly divide them. "Maybe they will make some one feel happier just for a minute," he would say, with his rare smile. His right leg was taken off at the knee. Then I lost sight of Jem for three or four years. Last winter he applied for admission to the free ward. His mother was dead. The disease had appeared in the other leg some months before. Jem had been supporting himself by typewriting, but was now no longer able to work. He met as if I had been his old, dear friend, as indeed, I was, and then hobbled round the wards to see if he knew any of the patients, stopping to laugh and joke and say some kind word at each bed. The doctors amputated the other leg that day. It was the only chance for his life, but in a week they knew that it had failed. "Make the boy comfortable," the surgeon said to me; "it is all that can be done for him now." Jem knew the truth from the first. But he never lost courage. This was his bed (pointing to the middle one of a long row of white cots in the great ward). He learned to know all the men, and took keen interest in each case. When Johnny Royle died, Jem took out the few dollars remaining in his pocket, and gave them to me. "They're for his little children," he whispered. "They have nothing." And when old Peter was discharged, cured, he came to Jem's bed to say good-bye as if he had been his brother. Jem wrung his hand, and said: "Take my overcoat, Peter; yours is gone, andI'll never need mine again." He waved his hand, and cheered feebly as Peter went away. He had nothing left to give nowI think that cut him sharply, but one day he

began to sing. He had a remarkable voice, clear and tender; it would force the tears to your eyes. Every head in the ward was turned to listen. That delighted Jem. "I can sing for them occasionally," he said, "if the doctors will allow it." So, whenever it was possible, Jem's sweet voice was heard, sometimes in a humorous song, sometimes in a hymn. I used to think he was at heaven's gate when he sang those hymns. But one morning his voice was gone, and before night everyone in the ward knew he was dying. The patients were silent, many of them crying, for they all loved the boy. He died at sundown, sitting up in bed, leaning against my shoulder. He glanced around the ward, and they nodded, and smiled. "Give them," he whispered, then stopped, remembering, poor child, that he had nothing to give. Then he said, suddenly, aloud, his eyes brightening, "Give them my loveJem Bruce's love." Taken from The Youth's Instructor, January 29, 1903.

LEFT TO DIEFROM W.A.SPICER The Somme River rises above St. Quentin, near the Belgian border, in northern France, and flows into the English channel. In what was once a rich farming area near the river, the astounding scene took place. Before the war , this man was an irreligious man. He had attended some evangelistic meetings once but did not become a Christian. After entering the war he was shipped to France. As he was crossing an open field, shrapnel struck him down. His fellow soldiers left him as they deemed him dead. I could hear the battle, he related, And the humming of bullets was all around me. I saw that I was bleeding and hoped that a corpsman would find me. But night came without one person coming near by the bit of a hollow where I fell. The next morning I was very weak from loss of blood and from hunger. I had a little food in my knapsack but was unable to turn over or to unbuckle my straps to get it. I realized that I was lying in my own blood. I was helpless and giving myself up to die. Five days later, the medical corpsmen were out in the field, searching for any one who could possibly still have life in him. I saw them come closer and closer. I tried to call to them, but they were too far away to hear my weak voice. Closer and closer they came. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, one of them stopped, cupped his hand to his ear and heard my plea for help. After administering first aid, he called to a companion to get a stretcher. When the two of them started to take me off, I asked them to look around and see if they could see what had saved my life. Puzzled and thinking I was delirious, they started on with their task. Wait, I cried, at least look at the evidence of what has happened . After seeing those ten definite objects of proof that I had miraculously been preserved from starvation, we made our way to the mobile surgical hospital. In the portable hospital tent, I had time to reflect back on the astounding way in which that God I had rejected in those evangelistic meetings had not rejected me . I gave my heart to Him and vowed to go back home, look up the people who held the meetings, and allow them to help me become a real bonafied Christian. 6

My testimony of Gods stunning battlefield protection was confirmed by the two medics so that no one would miss out on the power of it through doubt or unbelief. You see, when I could not turn over or unbuckle my strap with my one free arm so that I could eat the meager provisions of my K-rations, the Lord interceded. Lying there the morning after my being wounded, I first thought I was having an hallucination, because standing near the very tip of my five fingers of my one free hand was a real, live hen! What's more, the hen laid an egg right then and there! I broke the egg, cupping most of its contents in one half of the shell, and swallowed it. It was not much, but it was enough to keep me alive until the next day. Whats even more wonderful is the fact that this same hen that I saw walk slowly away after laying that first egg came back to almost the very same spot the next day to lay another egg. The hen came from a nearby farm house, an orderly told me later. But it came five days in a row. And the corpsmen saw the ten halves of the five eggs broken by my body! "The Burning Hut" The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements and to store his few possessions. But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened ... everything was lost! He was stung with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me?" he cried. Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal!" they replied. ~ Author Unknown ~

Amazing Answer to a Mothers Prayers...the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: ...And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. Luke.7:12,13 From Miracles at Sea -Harvey Berman in Fate magazine March 1958. Our story begins in 1829 on an October morning, when a schooner Mermaid set sail from Sydney, Australia, for Collier Bay. Captain Samuel Nolbrow was the skipper, and the ship carried a crew of eighteen and three passengers. On the fourth day the wind died down and the vessel was becalmed. The Captain saw the barometer was falling and a wall of black clouds was approaching rapidly. Worse, the Mermaid was now in the treacherous Torres Strait, separating Australia and New Guinea. The storm struck shortly before midnight. Huge waves broke over the deck and rain and howling winds ripped through the rigging. Then the ship was driven towards a ridge of rocks. Desperately the Captain and crew fought to swing the schooner from her course to disaster. But despite their frantic efforts, the Mermaid smashed into a coral reef that ripped her bottom. Waves lashed her hull and decks as churning water poured into her hold. Abandon ship, the captain shouted above the scream of the wind. Seamen and passengers dropped over the side and started swimming toward a large rock about two hundred feet away. The captain was the last man to leave the sinking ship, when he arrived at the rock he found all twenty-one persons had made it to safety. For three miserable days the survivors huddled on the rock, then the bark Swiftsure hove into view and took them aboard. The bark continued on her course off the New Guinea coast, but on the fifth day after the rescue she was caught in a powerful, uncharted current. Swept broadside into rocks along the shore the Swiftsure began breaking up and, again, the order to abandon ship came and once again all persons aboard were saved. Later that same day the schooner Governor Ready, with a crew of thirty-two, appeared. After taking on the marooned crews of the other two vessels, the schooner was somewhat crowded as she sailed away to the west. About three hours later the schooner caught fire and the flames roared through the wooden vessel like a gale. All aboard climbed into longboats. They were many miles from shipping lanes but the Australian Government cutter Comet, came along, blown off course by a storm. The crew of the cutter did not welcome the crews and passengers of three lost vessels. It wasnt just the lost elbow-room but obviously they felt a jinx was involved- the crew-members of the Mermaid regarded one another with suspicion. The crew of the Comet expected trouble and it came five days later in the form of a violent storm that snapped off the Comets mast and ripped away her sails 8

and carried off her rudder. When she began sinking the crew launched the only longboat ant the rest kept afloat clinging to wreckage. For eighteen hours they drifted in the cold sea, fighting sharks; then along came the packet Jupiter and again they were rescued. For a forth time it was found not a single life had been lost! Two days later the Jupiter hit a reef and sank. But the passenger vessel City of Leeds was close at hand to take them all on board and transfer them safely to Sydney. Five ships had been lost and the crew of the Mermaid had been shipwrecked five times- yet no-one was lost. Now the most amazing part of our story- On the passenger ship, City of Leeds was an elderly English woman named Sarah Richley who was critically ill. She had earlier told passengers that she was going to Australia in hopes of finding her son, who had run away fifteen years before and joined the navy. She had never heard from him and Navy officials said he had served his term and left. Delirious she called constantly for her son and the doctor decided to ease her dying moments by getting a sailor to pretend he was her son. He looked around for a young man the approximate age and description of Peter Richely and chose one of the crew of the Mermaid. The seaman agreed to help the doctor and as they walked to her cabin the doctor said, Now this is how we will do it, the womans name is Sarah Richley and shes from Yorkshire, youre to He stopped and stared- the seamans face had turned white and he had braced himself against the wall. Whats wrong with you? the doctor asked. Tears poured down the mans cheeks as he stammered, You see, I am Peter Richley! Please take me to my mother! Happiness is great medicine. Sarah Richley recovered and lived in a house her son built for her for nearly twenty years. Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book? Psa.56.8

When the Angels Steered a ShipFrom-Was God the Skipper?Reported by Henry Galus- in Fate magazine April-May 1952 In June 1887, the Canton left New Bedford, Mass., for the whaling grounds of the south Atlantic. After several whales had been killed and rendered, the ship sailed north to the island of St. Helena to unload the barrels of sperm oil and take on water. Soon after the Canton left the island early in September to return to the grounds, the ship assumed a course of her own in defiance of the helm and the wind. Time and again Captain Howland pulled the vessel back on the determined course, but each time she swung away with a weird will to proceed in her own direction, her sails flapping in protest. Captain Howland was a God fearing man. With his eyes on the sky, he said, this is a good ship and theres no reason why she shouldnt respond to the wheel. It must be the hand of Providence. Let her go the way she will. May God take us to where He wants us to go! During the next two days the Yankee captain spent most of his time standing silently at the rail, giving his orders gently. On the third day First Mate Antone Cruz noticed a number of dots on the surface ahead. When the Canton drew closer, the dots became small boats, scattered, loaded with gaunt human beings waving their hands and shouting hoarsely . Captain Howland soon learned that he has rescued survivors of the British trader Monarch. The trader with over two hundred cases of dynamite in her hold had caught fire seven hundred miles off the Cape of Good Hope. The flames quickly spread beyond control and the vessel was abandoned. Suffering from hunger and thirst, the passengers and crew had drifted about one hundred and fifty miles. Thank God for your rescue, the captain told the survivors. He was the skipper that brought us to you. Thank Him in humble prayer. Notes- The survivors were taken to the Cape of Good Hope. Later the British Government awarded Captain Howland a solid silver teapot, and a gold medal. It was the only time during her long career that the Canton failed to be responsive to her wheel and wind. She was a 227-tonner with an excellent record for sea worthiness. William H. Tripp, whaling museum curator, in a paper titled Brief History of the Bark Canton, says the ship was blunt of bow and old10

fashioned. (she was built in 1835 at Baltimore), but adds that she was a good sailor on the wind and was always spoken of as a dry ship. Captain Howland was a seafarer since the age of sixteen and had sailed throughout the world. Records reveal he was an expert navagator of unblemished reputation. He died in 1923 at the age of seventy.

CAN AND COULD

Itll be moonlight tonight, said a schoolboy; wont you join our skating party? No, replied Can; you know there wasnt a boy in my class that had his arithmetic lesson today, and the teacher gave it to us again. I can master it, and I will. That lesson must not beat me twice. I mean to make sure of it, so youll have to excuse me from joining your party. Shall I not help you? asked his elder sister. Let me try it first, replied Can; I feel like going at it with a will; for I' ve heard that where there' s a will, there' s a way. He did not stop until every example was worked out. If I only could learn this horrid lesson! exclaimed his classmate, Could, who made a few random figures on his slate, and then began to draw dogs heads. Is that the way you study your lesson?asked his mother reprovingly. If I only could get it, replied the boy, fretfully, I should be glad to work at it with all my might, but its too hard and dry for anybody. 11

Surely you could learn some of it, if you would only try, said his mother, and as this could not be gainsaid, Could looked at his book again. But the next moment he jumped from his chair, and ran to the window. Oh, this splendid moonlight! he exclaimed. Its really too bad to lose that skating. I think Ill go. But your lessons are not prepared, said his mother. I know that. Answered Could; but when I come back, there will be time enough for them. Off he went, and the next day, in the class, he drawled: I would have learned the lesson if I could. Can and Could both had to drive cows to pasture and to hoe in the garden. Can' s cows were regularly cropping grass on the hillside long before Could was out of bed. Can easily kept ahead of the weeds by hoeing before they got much start. Could waited until there was some real need of hoeing, to keep the weeds down, but the weeds had such a start then that they soon got ahead of him, and ahead of the crops, too, which were hardly worth gathering, although Cans garden yielded bountifully. If I could have had such a garden as that, said Could, I should have been

glad to hoe up every weed; but my garden was so poor that it didnt make much difference whether I hoed or not. If I could only be a great man, how much I would do to reform men! exclaimed Could. Sometime I mean to do something on a large scale in this world. Can was never heard to express such noble sentiments; but he attended diligently to business, and, as he prospered, employed many men at fair wages, thus enabling them to support their families in comfort. Can, by diligence and economy, became prosperous and happy; Could, by indolence and procrastination, became discontented and unhappy. Will you be Can or Could? Taken from The Youths Instructor, April 27, 1899.

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