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In The Life of D.L. Moody, William R. Moody (D.L.’s son) records his father’s reflections on his experience aboard the Spree, a passenger ship that was to take him from London to New York. At some point in the voyage, the Spree’s drive shaft broke, putting a hole in the hull. The ship began to sink. Dwight Moody describes the experience:

“The officers and crew did all that they could to save the vessel. But it was soon found that the pumps were useless, for the water poured into the ship too rapidly to be controlled. There was nothing more in the power of man to do, and the ship was absolutely helpless, while the passengers could only stand still on the poor, drifting, sinking ship and look into our possible watery graves.”

After several more days on the ship, the situation seemed increasingly dire and Mr. Moody entered what he called “the darkest hour of my life.” Yet, even in that dark hour, Dwight Moody turned to God. It was in that moment that he found peace:

“I could not endure it. I must have relief, and relief came in prayer. God heard my cry, and enabled me to say, from the depth of my soul, ‘Thy will be done!’ Sweet peace came to my heart. Let it be Northfield or Heaven, it made no difference now. I went to bed, fell asleep almost immediately, and never slept more soundly in all my life. Out of the depths I cried unto my Lord, and He heard me and delivered me from all my fears. I can no more doubt that God gave answer to my prayer for relief than I can doubt my own existence.”

In reflecting on Moody’s experience at sea, I am reminded that God is with us in the midst of our troubles, and that He is not constrained by our troubles. His limits are never challenged. There is never a moment when there is nothing more He can do. God works beyond the possibilities we can imagine.

D.L. Moody faced a crisis at sea, and God confronted him with a life-changing decision.

D.L. Moody and his son Will boarded the ocean liner Spree at Southampton, England, on November 23, 1892. Moody had just finished revival meetings in London, including eight days of services in Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, and now he was bound for New York. Foremost in his mind, besides seeing his family and students again, was the great campaign he was planning for the Chicago World’s Exhibition the following year.

On the third morning of the trip, passengers were startled by a loud crash and a shock going through the ship. Will hurried out to the deck. He quickly returned to say that the shaft of the vessel was broken. “The ship’s sinking, Father,” he said.

The disabled ship, carrying hundreds of passengers, drifted helplessly away from the sea lanes. The vessel was taking on so much water that its pumps were useless. The crew prepared lifeboats and provisions, but they realized the small boats would soon perish in the rough seas. So they mustered passengers into a main saloon and waited, hoping to be discovered by a passing vessel.

On the second evening of their torturous wait, Moody led a prayer service that calmed many of the passengers, including himself. Although he was sure of heaven, the thought of his work ending and of never again seeing his family had unsettled him.

One biographer includes another angle to the incident. Prior to the trip, a doctor had found irregularities in Moody’s heart and urged him to ease his schedule; if Moody did not, he would die early. Moody determined to slow down, and while sailing homeward, decided to scale down plans for the World’s Fair campaign.

During the crisis at sea, however, Moody perceived that God confronted him with a decision: Would Moody press on with all his might to deliver the gospel or would he be cautious, allowing fear to diminish his fervor? Facing death, Moody decided that if God would spare his life, he would work with “all the power that He would give me.” And if he should die this year or next, that was in God’s hands.

The following morning, however, the steamer Lake Huron discovered the stranded ship and towed it one thousand miles to safety. D.L. Moody pressed on with his World’s Fair campaign, six months of unceasing labor, from which, in Moody’s estimate, “millions … heard the simple gospel” and “thousands [were] genuinely converted to Christ.” Moody died in the midst of his work—seven years later.

THE ESCAPE OF THE SPREE

Mr. D. L. Moody and others, who were on the disabled steamer Spree, believe that the vessel was providentially saved in answer to prayer. In the midst of a severe storm, on November 27, 1892, the main shaft broke, and plunged through the bottom of the ship. The water-logged vessel rolled fearfully, and the decks were washed by the waves. The passengers became greatly alarmed, the indications being that the vessel would sink before help could reach it.On Sunday, at Mr. Moody’s suggestion, a prayer-service was organized. Every person on board attended, except the officers and crew, who could not leave their posts. Gen. O. Howard, who was one of the passengers, says: “It was the most impressive religious gathering any of us ever attended. Jews, Catholics, and all others forgot differences in creeds and denominations. There was no room for them in such an hour. Mr. Moody read the ninety-first and one hundred and seventh Psalms, which one of the Germans translated verse by verse for his countrymen. Mr. Moody offered a most fervent prayer, and made a short address. God heard us and answered us.

I went to my stateroom to rest after the meeting, and I was asleep when some one touched me. I awoke to find a sweet, fond little German girl, the daughter of one of the passengers, by my cot. She could not understand a word of English, but my daughter had drilled her to speak four English words, which was the message she brought me, “The steamer is coming,” and then she added her German “hallelujah.”” Mr. Moody says of the rescue: “There never was a more earnest prayer to God than that of those seven hundred souls on that helpless, almost sinking ship in mid-ocean, Sunday evening, November 27th, when we met in the saloon to implore God’s help; and God answered us, as I knew He would. He sent us a rescuing ship, and He calmed the sea so that for a week it was as smooth as it is in this harbor, though there were storms all around us. It was the grandest test of prayer I ever knew.

My son was with me. He is a student in Yale College, and the learned professors there have instilled in him some doubts about God’s direct interference in answer to prayer. After we had prayed that Sunday night, I had reached a point where I cared not whether it was God’s will that we should go up or down. I determined to go to rest as though we were sailing safely on our way. My boy couldn’t rest. We were fast drifting out of the track of vessels, and our peril was extreme. About 2:15 o’clock he came and woke me, telling me to come on deck. There he pointed out an occasional glimpse of a tiny light that showed over the waves as our ship rolled heavily from side to side. “It is our star of Bethlehem,” he cried, “and our prayers are answered.” Before daylight the Huron, whose masthead light it was, had reached us, and the waves were stilled and the winds were hushed by Divine command, while we were drawn out of the direst peril to this safe haven. The Spree arrived at Queenstown December 2, with her stern thirty feet in the water, notwithstanding her pumps had been steadily worked from the moment of the disaster. — Northwestern Christian Advocate.

THE DYING NEWSBOY

In a dark alley in the great city of New York, a small, ragged boy might be seen. He appeared to be about twelve years old, and had a careworn expression on his countenance. The cold air seemed to have no pity as it pierced through his ragged clothes, and made the flesh beneath blue and almost frozen.

This poor boy had once a happy home. His parents died a year before, and left him without money or friends. He was compelled to face the cold, cruel world with but a few cents in his pocket. He tried to earn his living by selling newspapers and other such things. This day everything seemed to go against him, and in despair he threw himself down in the dark alley, with his papers by his side.

A few boys gathered around the poor lad, and one asked in a kind way (for a street Arab): “Say, Johnny, why don’t you go to the lodges?” (The lodge was a place where almost all the boys staid at night, costing but a few cents.) But the poor little lad could only murmur that he could not stir, and called the boys about him, saying: “I am dying now, because I feel so odd; and I can hardly see you. Gather around me closer, boys.

I cannot talk so loud. I can kinder see the angels holding out their hands for me to come to that beautiful place they call heaven. Good-bye, boys. I am to meet father and mother.” And, with these last words on his lips, the poor boy died.

Next morning the passers-by saw a sight that would soften the most hardened heart. There, lying on the cold stone, with his head against the hard wall, and his eyes staring upward, was the poor little frozen form of the newsboy. He was taken to the church near by, and was interred by kind hands. And those who performed this act will never forget the poor forsaken lad. — Golden Dawn.

THE DYING CHILD’S PRAYER FOR HER DRUNKEN FATHER

A child from a poor family had an intemperate father, who often used to abuse his wife and children. This child had been to the Sunday-school – had become pious. The physician told the father that his little girl would die. No he did not believe it. Yes, she will, she will die in a few hours. The father flew to the bedside; would not part with her, She said. “Yes, father, you must part with me, I am going to Jesus. Promise me two things. One is, that you won’t abuse mother any more, and will drink no more whisky.”

He promised in a solemn, steady manner. The little girl’s face lighted up with joy. “The other thing is, promise me that you will pray,” said the child. I cannot pray; don’t know how,” said the poor man.

“Father, kneel down, please. There, take the words after me, I will pray; I learned how to prayed in Sunday school, and God has taught me how to pray too, my heart prays, you must let your heart pray. Now say the words.”

And she began in her simple language to pray to the Savior of sinners. After a little he began to repeat after her; as he went on his heart was interested, and he broke out into an earnest prayer for himself; bewailed his sins, confessed and promised to forsake them; entered into covenant with God; light broke out upon him in his darkness; how long he prayed he did not know; he seemed to have forgotten his child in his prayer. When he came to himself he raised his head from the bed on which he had rested it; there lay the little speaker, a lovely smile was upon the face, her little hand was in that of the father, but she had gone to be among the angels. -Power of Prayer, by Prime.