A few years ago as I stood at the door of a church giving out invitations to a meeting to take place that evening, a young man to whom I offered one said, “I want something more than that. I want something to do!” I urged him to come into the meeting, and after some remonstrance he consented.
After the meeting I took him home, and after dinner I told him there was a room which I called the “Prophet’s Room,” and up stairs was another which I called the “Unbeliever’s Room,” and I would give him till night to decide which he would take. He was able by night to take the first, and the next day was at work urging young men to attend the noonday prayer-meeting. When I was burned out in the great fire and was left perfectly destitute, I received a letter with some money from this young man in Boston, who said:
“You helped me and took me in your home, keeping me six weeks and refused to take anything for it, and I have never forgotten your kindness.” I had lost sight of him, but he had remembered that as a turning-point in his existence.