Please, Sir, Save Me

Some time ago, a steamer with a number of gold miners on board was seen approaching San Francisco. The voyage had been delightful, and all were in high glee at the near prospect of home. Suddenly, a fierce wave drove the vessel onto a rock, and the captain announced that the ship was sinking while he spoke.

On the deck, a sunburnt miner was buckling round his waist with gold and savings, when a little lassie of seven summers came along, and looking up into his face, asked the question, Please, sir, can you swim? Yes, said the miner, I reckon so. Then please, sir, ask the child with fearful eyes, will you save me? Quick as thought, the miner saw that he could not save the child and his money as well, but he soon decided, and overboard went the gold. Creep up, my darling, put your arms round me next, tighten the next moment.

He was strapping the little lassie where a few seconds before he had been fastening the gold. Then plunging into the billow, he swam and swam until a brief wave landed him on the shore. They bore him to a cottage, and opening his eyes, he asked, Where am I? When the same little form creeping up his bosom, kicked him on both feet and said, Please, sir, I'm so glad you've saved me.

All around you on the waste waters of life, in their poverty, miseries and sins, the people are seeking you, will you help them? Keep neither money, pride or self far the way, overboard with it. Put your trust in God, throw your arms round the perishing, and swim and swim until by and by, when the kindly hand of death lands you on the golden shore, the spirit whom you have saved shall bear you away on their snowy wings to the feet of your Lord, and say, This is the man, this is the woman who saved me.