Milo

THE INFLUENCE OF A MOTHER’S PRAYERS

More than thirty years ago, one lovely Sunday morning, about eight young men, students in a law school, were walking along the banks of a stream that flows into the Potomac river, not far from the city of Washington. They were going to a grove, in a retired place, to spend the hours of that holy day in playing cards. Each of them had a flask of wine in his pocket. They were the sons of praying mothers. As they were walking along amusing each other with idle jests, the bell of a church in a little village not two miles off began to ring. It sounded in the ears of those thoughtless young men as plainly as though it were only on the other side of the little stream along which they were walking.

Presently one of their number, whose name was George, stopped, and said to the friend nearest him that he would go no farther, but would return to the village and go to church. His friend called out to their companions, who were a little ahead of them ‘ Boys! Boys! Come back here; George is getting religious; we must help him. Come on, and let us baptize him by immersion in the water.” In a moment they formed a circle around him. They told him that the only way he could save himself from having a cold bath was by going with them. In a calm, quiet, but earnest way, he said:

“I know very well that you have power enough to put me in the water, and hold me there till I am drowned; and, if you choose, you can do so, and I will make no resistance; but listen to what I have to say, and then do as you think best.

“You all know that I am two hundred miles away from home; but you do not know that my mother is a helpless, bed-ridden invalid. I never remember seeing her out of bed. I am her youngest child. My father could not afford to pay for my schooling; but our teacher is a warm friend of my father, and offered to take me without any charge. He was very anxious for me to come; but mother would not consent. The struggle almost cost her what little life was left to her. At length, after many prayers on the subject, she yielded and said I might go. The preparations for my leaving home were soon made. My mother never said a word to me on the subject till the morning when I was about to leave. After I had eaten my breakfast she sent for me, and asked me if every-thing was ready. I told her all was ready, and I was only waiting for the stage. At her request I kneeled beside her bed. With her loving hand upon my head, she prayed for her youngest child. Many and many a night I have dreamed that whole scene over. It is the happiest recollection of my life. I believe, till the day of my death, I shall be able to repeat every word of that prayer. Then she spoke to me thus:

“My precious boy, you do not know, you never can know, the agony of a mother’s heart, in parting, for the last time, from her youngest child. When you leave home, you will have looked, for the last time, this side of the grave, on the face of her who loves you as no other mortal does or can. Your father cannot afford the expense of your making us visits during the two years that your studies will occupy. I cannot possibly live as long as that. The sand in the hourglass of my life has nearly run out. In the far off strange place to which you are going, there will be no loving mother to give counsel in time of trouble. Seek counsel and help from God. Every Sunday morning, from ten to eleven o’clock, I will spend the hour in prayer for you. Wherever you may
be during this sacred hour, when you hear the church bells ringing, let your thoughts come back to this chamber, where your dying mother will be agonizing in prayer for you. But I hear the stage coming. Kiss me-farewell!”

Boys, I never expect to see my mother again on earth. But by God’s help, I mean to meet her in heaven.”

As George stopped speaking the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He looked at his companions. Their eyes were filled with tears.

In a moment the ring which they had formed about him was opened. He passed out and went to church. He had stood up for the right against great odds.

They admired him for doing what they had not the courage to do. They all followed him to church. On their way there, each of them quietly threw away his cards and his wine-flask Never again did these young men play cards on the Sunday

From that day they all became changed men. Six of them died Christians, and are now in heaven. George is an able Christian lawyer in Iowa; and his friend, who wrote this account, has been for many years an earnest, active member of the church. Here were eight men converted by the prayers of that good Christian woman. And, if we only knew all the results of their examples and their labors, we should have a good illustration of a mother’s prayers — Bible Models

THE HEAVEN BUILT WALL

In the campaign of Napoleon in Russia, while the French army was retreating from Moscow, there lay in a poor, low cottage, in a little village, an invalid boy. This village was exactly in the course of the retreating army, and already the reports of its approach had reached and excited the terrified inhabitants. In their turn, they began to make preparations for retreat; for they knew there was no hope for them from the hands of soldiers, all seeking their own preservation, and giving no quarter to others. Every one who had the strength to fly, fled; some trying to take with them their worldly goods, some to conceal them. The little village was fast growing deserted. Some burnt their houses or dismantled them. The old were placed in wagons, and the young hurried their families away with them.

But in the little cottage there was none of this bustle. The poor crippled boy could not move from his bed. The widowed mother had no friends intimate enough to spare a thought for her in this time of trouble, when every one thought only of those nearest to him and of himself. What chance in flight was there for herself and her young children, among whom one was the poor crippled boy?

It was evening, and the sound of distant voices and of preparation had died away. The poor boy was wakeful with urging his mother to leave him to his fate, now dreading lest she should take him at his word, and leave him behind.

The neighbors are just going away; I hear them no longer,” he said. “I am so selfish, I have kept you here. Take the little girls with you; it is not too late. And I am safe; who will hurt a poor helpless boy?”

“We are all safe,” answered the mother; “God will not leave us, though all else forsake us.”

“But what can help us?’ persisted the boy. “Who can defend us from their cruelty? Such stories as I have heard of the ravages of these men! They are not men; they are wild beasts. Oh, why was I made so weak, so weak as to be utterly useless? No strength to defend, no strength to fly.”

“There is a sure wall for the defenseless,” answered his mother “God will build us up a sure wall.”

“You are my strength now,” said the boy; ‘ I thank God that you did not desert me. I am so weak, I cling to you. Do not leave me, indeed! I fancy I can see the cruel soldiers hurrying in. We are too poor to satisfy them, and they would pour their vengeance upon us! And yet you ought to leave me! What right have I to keep you here? And I shall suffer more if I see you suffer.”

“God will be our refuge and defense still,” said the mother and at length, with low, quieting words, she stilled the anxious boy, till he, too, slept like his sisters. The morning came of the day that was to bring the dreaded enemy. The mother and children opened their eyes to find that a “sure wall” had indeed been built for their defense. The snow had begun to fall the evening before. Through the night it had collected rapidly. A “stormy wind, fulfilling His word” had blown the snow into drifts against the low house, so that it had entirely covered it — a protecting wall, built by Him who holds the very winds in his fists, and who ever pities those who trust in Him. A low shed behind protected the, way to the outhouse, here the animals were, and for a few days the mother and her children kept themselves alive within their cottage, shut in and concealed by the heavy barricade of snow.

It was during that time that the dreaded scourge passed over the village. Every house was ransacked; all the wealthier ones deprived of their luxuries, and the poorer ones robbed of their necessaries. But the low-roofed cottage lay sheltered beneath its wall of snow, which, in the silent night, had gathered about it. God had protected the defenseless with a “sure wall.” –Guiding Hand, by H.L. Hastings.

THE GREATEST REVIVAL OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA

Dr. Lyman Beecher said of the great revival in Rochester, N.Y., conducted by Mr. Finney, that it was the greatest revival in the Christian era. During Mr. Finney’s evangelistic ministry, hundreds of thousands were converted to God through his labors, joined to those of the church.

His Lectures on Revivals ” have been most wonderfully blessed in the conversion of sinners, directly and indirectly, not only in this country, but in foreign countries. When they were published in this country, 12,000 of them were sold as fast as they could be printed. They were reprinted in England and France.

They were translated into Welsh, French and German. One publisher in London put out 80,000 volumes of them. Great revivals followed wherever they circulated. But why did such revivals follow Mr. Finney’s preaching, and the reading of his lectures?

I will let Mr. Finney answer this question himself. Said he, in his autobiography – “Let the reader remember that long day of agony and prayer at sea, that God would do something to forward the work of revivals, and enable me, if He desired to do it, to take such a course as to help forward the work.

I felt certain then, that my prayers would be answered, and I have regarded all that I have since been able to accomplish, as in a very important sense, an answer to the prayers of that day. The spirit of prayer came upon me as a sovereign grace, bestowed upon me without the least merit, and in despite of all my sinfulness.

He pressed my soul in prayer until I was enabled to prevail; and through infinite riches of grace in Christ Jesus, I have been many years witnessing the wonderful results of that day of wrestling with God. In answer to that day’s agony, He has continued to give me the
spirit of prayer.”

Said Dr. N. Murray: “Prayer is the power of the Church; and could I speak as loud as the trumpet which is to wake the dead, I would thus call upon the Church, in all branches and in all lands: ‘Awake! awake! put on thy strength, 0 Zion! put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem! Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.’ Patriarchs, prophets, apostles. martyrs, reformers, were mighty in prayer. – Prevailing Prayer, by Wigle.

THE GOLDEN RULE EXEMPLIFIED

Early one morning while it was yet dark, a poor man came to my door and informed me that he had an infant child very sick, which he was afraid would die. He desired me to go to his home, and, if possible, prescribe some medicine to relieve it. “For,” said he, “I want to save its life if possible.”

As he spoke thus the tears ran down his face. He then added “I am a poor man; but, doctor, I will pay you in work as much as you ask if you will go.” I said: “Yes, I will go with you as soon as I take a little refreshment.” “Oh, sir,” said he, “I was going to try to get a bushel of corn, and get it ground to carry home, and I am afraid the child will die before I get there. I wish you would not wait for me;” and then added: “We want to save the child’s life if we can.”

It being some miles to his house, I did not arrive there until the sun was two hours high in the morning, when I found the mother holding her sick child, and six or seven little boys and girls around her, with clean hands and faces, looking as their mother did, lean and poor.

On examining the sick child, I discovered that it was starving to death I said to the mother “You don’t give milk enough for this child.” She said: ” I suppose I don’t.” “Well,” said I, “you must feed it with milk.”She answered: “I would, sir, but I can’t get any to feed it with.” I then said: “It will be well then for you to make a little water gruel, and feed your child.” To this she replied; “I was thinking I would if my husband brings home some Indian meal. He has gone to try to get some, and I am in hopes he will make out.” She said this with a sad countenance.

I asked her with surprise: “Why, madam, have you not got anything to eat? She strove to suppress a tear, and answered sorrowfully, “No, sir we have had but little these some days.I said: “What are your neighbors, that you should suffer among them?” She said; “I suppose they are good people; but we are strangers in this place, and don’t wish to trouble any of them, if we can get along without.” Wishing to give the child a little manna, I asked for a spoon. The little girl went to the table drawer to get one, and her mother said to her “Get the longest handled spoon.” As she opened the drawer, I saw only two spoons, and both with handles broken off, but one handle was a little longer than the other. I thought to myself, this is a very poor family, but I will do the best I can to relieve them.

While I was preparing the medicine for the sick child, I heard the oldest boy (who was about fourteen), say: “You shall have the biggest piece now, because I had the biggest piece before.” I turned around to see who it was that manifested such a principle of justice, and saw four or five children sitting in the corner, where the oldest was dividing a roasted potato among them. And he said to one: “You shall have the biggest piece now,” etc. But the other said “Why, brother, you are the oldest, and you ought to have the biggest piece.” “No,” said the other, “I had the biggest piece.” I turned to the mother, and said ” Madam, you have potatoes to eat, I suppose?” She replied: “We have had, but that is the last one we have left; and the children have now roasted that for their breakfast.”

On hearing this, I hastened home, and informed my wife that I had taken the wrong medicine with me to the sick family. I then prescribed a gallon of milk, two loaves of bread, some butter, meat and potatoes, and sent my boy with these; and had the pleasure to hear in a few days that they were all well — Selected.

Mr George Henry Cavell was born in Southampton, Hampshire, England on 4 December 1889.

His parents were George Henry Cavell (1863-1927), a marine fireman, and Alice Florence Purkiss (1865-1945), both Hampshire natives who had married in Southampton in 1888.

One of a reported thirteen children, his only known siblings were: Ellen Jane (1884-1959, later Mrs Alfred Mainer), Rose Mathilda (1886-1907), Alice Florence (b. 1887), Lily Elizabeth (b. 1895), Alice Maud (b. 1898) and Frederick Ernest (b. 1901).

Cavell first appears on the 1891 census living with his family at 28 Chapel Street, St Mary, Southampton and by the time of the 1901 census the family were living at 25 Chantry Road, Southampton and his father was by then described as a general labourer.

The family had moved to 46 Russell Street in the same city by the time of the 1911 census although George is absent from the household and was listed elsewhere at Bermuda House.

George, who was unmarried, signed on to the Titanic on 6 April 1912, giving his address as Lower East Road, Sholing. He had previously served on Adriatic, Oceanic, and Olympic, before joining the Titanic and had worked with the White Star Line for eighteen months by that point.
On the evening of 14 April Cavell was on the 8 to 12 watch, and was alone in the starboard coal bunker in boiler room 4 at the time of the collision. He felt a shock and the piles of coal around him collapsed, covering him and from which he had a job freeing himself. Hearing warning bells that the watertight doors were closing, Cavell then managed to get into the stokehold but upon arriving he was surprised by the lights suddenly extinguishing. He then left the stokehold via an escape ladder to fetch lamps and went to Scotland Road where he saw steerage passengers heading aft, many wet through and clinging to lifebelts, being told to remain calm by stewards; it was here he ascertained from a colleague that the ship had struck an iceberg.

He fetched the lamps and returned to the stokehold but by the time he had returned the lights had come back on and he received orders to start drawing the fires. Whilst doing this water started to flood through the floor plates which rose about a foot before Cavell left his station and returned to Scotland Road but found it deserted. Believing that there was no danger Cavell briefly returned to boiler room 4 but found it deserted. He again made his way up top where he went to the aft boat deck.

Upon reaching the aft starboard boat deck Cavell noted that there were still a few lifeboats remaining; one was still hanging in the davits (#15) whilst the other was being lowered (#13) and the only people on deck where a handful of firemen and the crew lowering the boat, including an unidentified officer. The officer ordered Cavell and the other firemen into lifeboat 15 and it was lowered flush with A-deck to receive passengers but only five came forward. Boat 15 was then lowered again to become flush with B-deck and calls for more passengers was met with a large crowd of third-class passengers appearing and gathering around, which Cavell estimated to be around sixty in total and what he believed to be all women and children and with a few men standing back. He also noted that the majority of the crowd seemed to be Irish women.

With lifeboat 15 heavily laden with an estimated 70 survivors aboard, fireman Frank Dymond took charge.

Cavell was called to testify at the British Inquiry on 9 May 1912 and received expenses of £11, 6s.

George returned to the sea, serving on ships including the Olympic, Braemar Castle, Carnarvon Castle, Armadale Castle, Warwick Castle and Rothesay Castle and continued to serve in the merchant service throughout the duration of WWI.

He was married in Southampton in 1919 to Kate Elizabeth Barber (b. 7 January 1885); the couple would have no children.

Cavell later left the sea and worked as a fitter’s mate; by the time of the 1939 register he and his wife were residents of 2, The Popes Buildings in Southampton.

George Henry Cavell died in Winchester, Hampshire on 21 July 1966, his wife Kate Elizabeth died 11 November 1967 and they are both buried together in Hollybrook Cemetery Southampton (section L16, plot 46, possibly an unmarked grave).

George Henry Cavell signed up to serve on the new ocean liner Titanic on her maiden voyage. On the evening of April 14, 1912, George was assigned to the coal bunker, and was alone when that great ship hit the iceberg. He worked with the crew to secure the ship as best they could, but then was ordered by an officer into a lifeboat.

One of the passengers aboard the Titanic was a man named John Harper, a Baptist pastor from Scotland who was on his way to Chicago to preach a series of revival meetings—his second trip to do so. He did not make it into a lifeboat, and he was one of the hundreds of people who drowned that night. Before he died, however, he spent his final moments urging people to come to Christ. Anytime someone drifted close to where he was, he would ask them, “Are you saved?”

George Henry Cavell replied from a lifeboat, “No,” to which Harper shouted above the noise the words of Acts 16:31, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” Harper drifted away. Later, Harper drifted back within sight of the lifeboat. From the frigid water, once more the dying Harper shouted the question, “Are you saved?” Once again he received the answer, “No.” Harper repeated the words of Acts 16:31, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved,” before he drifted away again.

The frigid water of the North Atlantic took John Harper’s life, and his body was never recovered. But George put his faith in Jesus Christ.

Later he was rescued by the lifeboats of the S.S. Carpathia. In Hamilton, Ontario, George Henry Cavell testified that he was John Harper’s last convert. With his dying breaths John Harper was urging people to come to Christ, because he knew there wasn’t much time; that was the last opportunity for many of them.

Without being too dramatic, the truth is that none of us knows when our last opportunity has arrived. So allow me to ask: “Are you saved?”

If the answer is “No,” or you do not know how to answer that question, please pay attention to the words of Acts 16:31 as if your life depended on it–because it does. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.”