Christmas Eve on the Delaware
I have heard variations of this story told several times and although it is not what I would classify as a "fishing story," it IS Christmas and it DOES take place on the Delaware River. :) I researched it and bounced it against several sources, none of which were copyrighted. So I would like to present to you what I believe to be the most accurate recollection of what I have chosen to call…
Christmas Eve On the Delaware
This true story takes place December 24, 1875. The place; aboard a steamboat heading north on the Delaware River.
To add some perspective, Ira Sankey was to Dwight Lyman Moody in the late 1800’s as George Beverly Shea is to Billy Graham today. He was a most famous gospel singer in both America and in Europe. Just prior to this event, Moody and Sankey had been leading revivals in Great Britain and had waited quite late to travel back to America for the Christmas holidays. Sankey was quite provoked with Moody for his insistence of various meetings. So, not willing to be recognized, he mingled incognito among the passengers on the crowded steamer as she chugged along, upriver, ever so slowly. He was fretful and wished to stay to himself. He knew that he HAD to make a train connection in Philadelphia if he was to make it to Newcastle in time for Christmas. So there he was…out of sorts and inwardly distraught.
Suddenly someone said, “Why, aren’t you Ira Sankey the gospel singer?” Without a word, he smiled at the lady and her husband, believing himself to have lent a fair amount of dignity to the event. “We’ve seen your picture in the newspapers!” “Oh, not tonight, of all nights, Lord,” he thought. He didn’t want to be recognized but, being that as it may, he was a famous person—like it or not--and with that came a price. “We thought you were still in England, Mr. Sankey.” “We returned last week, Madam.” He retorted in his distinctive baritone voice. “Had it not been for the last-minute conferences and meetings, I could be in Newcastle as we speak.” He broke off the conversation, not wishing to be negative. Instead of being next to his family, he was a captive holiday traveler on an old steamboat, as were the others…all heading home for Christmas.
“Mr. Sankey, would you sing for us? It IS Christmas Eve and we would be delighted to hear you.” Mr. Sankey reluctantly agreed to sing and several excited voices announced his name throughout the vessel. Attempting to hide his melancholy mood, he silently wished to have his trusty portable pump organ at hand to compliment his voice in a carol or two. It was no matter; he would sing unaccompanied to the now gathering travelers.
As he leaned against a stack, bathing the upcoming performance in prayer, it came across his heart to sing one of William Bradbury’s hymns. Perhaps God had orchestrated the entire event; this place, this boat, these people and at this time…all by divine appointment. Of course.
“Sing one of your songs,” demanded a voice from the crowd. “How about ‘The Ninety-and-Nine,” said another. He gazed over the crowd. “No thank you, but I have a song that has been placed upon my heart, just for you. If you know it, as I know many of you do, hum it with me as I sing.” He found a place of slight elevation so that his voice would carry as far as possible over the eager throng of travelers.
He felt much better about the circumstances now, knowing God was in full control. Sankey began to sing with the unmistakable resonance of that uniquely famous voice the world had heard so many times.
“Savior, like a shepherd lead us. Much we need thy tender care. In thy pleasant pastures feed us, For our use thy folds prepare; Blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, Thou hadst bought us Thine we are.”
He sang all three verses, powerfully. The words and melody filled the deck and spilled out onto the rolling Delaware onto the Pennsylvania riverside. It was a still, starlit night and the song seemed to project itself forever. Then there came a strange silence upon it’s completion. He saw no reason for another song and bid the crowd a Merry Christmas, excusing himself as the crowd hesitantly muttered a return of the greeting. The silence was again upon Mr. Sankey and he was alone…once more.
After a few fleeting moments of peace, the coveted silence was suddenly shattered. “Excuse me, sir, but is your name really Ira Sankey?” a voice from nowhere said. “Yes it is,” he replied, not recognizing the voice nor the individual strolling forward from the dimness.
The man was about Sankey’s age. He was well dressed though not fastidiously so, sporting a beard of partial gray and black—perhaps a banker, like his father—or a salesman…
“Were you ever in the Army, Mr. Sankey?” “Why, yes I was. I joined up in 1860.” “I wonder if you could remember a date in 1862. Were you ever on picket duty at night, in Maryland?” “Yes, yes. That would have to be Sharpsburg.” His memory flooded him suddenly. Who was this man asking all the pointed questions? He was to find out.
“I was in the Army too, Mr. Sankey—the Confederate Army.” Sankey looked at him with a careful wariness. “I saw you one night, there…on picket duty. You were pacing back and forth in your blue uniform, in the full moonlight I might add. I was in the shadows, not even 50 yards away—a simple shot for my Enfield. I put you in my sights. I placed the bead right on your brass breastplate. I began to tighten my grip on the trigger with my index finger. I felt it give…ever so slightly–and then—then you began to sing as you walked, eyes lifted, arms outstretched, palms open to the heavens. "Savior like a shepherd lead us...”
“I remember that time!” Sankey said. The man continued…”My mother used to sing that song to me so much. I never expected a soldier to be singing it at midnight—let alone a Union soldier. It so gripped my weary heart. I thought, ‘I’ll let him finish. Then I will kill him. I can’t miss.’ You continued to sing and as you sang the words ‘We are Thine, do Thou befriend us, Be the guardian of our way…’ I could no longer level my weapon at you and take deadly aim, although you were perfectly still in the full moonlight. I had no choice. I retired my rifle, arms dropping uselessly to my side. My heart just ached. I cannot tell you all that I pondered that evening.
But as you sang that same song tonight, I instantly recognized your voice. I have wondered over the years who you were and just who that shepherd was you keep singing about. My life is miserable and in pieces. I have never found the shepherd, nor you, for that matter…until this very instant. I am but a remnant of a man and my heart again feels as it did on that cold night thirteen years ago. Would you, Mr. Sankey, help me find that shepherd tonight?”
With that heartful plea, Sankey, overcome with emotion, wrapped his burley arms around a man that was once his enemy who most certainly could have ended his life so many years ago. On that steamer, that Christmas Eve night in 1875, on the Delaware River, two former enemies embraced and one led the other to that tender Shepherd who so cares for us all... if only we will receive Him. You see, the good Lord orchestrates it all; even this story for you, this Christmas of 2008!
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If any man hear my voice, and opens the door, I will come into him.”
Jesus - Revelation 3:20
Merry Christmas Eve <><
Arkie
It would make a marvelous documentary...
...but I'm afraid Hollywood is just not "into" Jesus, sadly, except in the most negative of ways.
Merry Christmas, JSC. God is in control.
aj
Quote:
Originally Posted by
JSC
Arkie John
That was a great and moving post ... why can we not have this on TV ???
I know I opened a "Can Of Worms" and will not elaborate on it .. it is sad that we have come to the stae of affairs that we find ourselves in this nation today...
Thanx again here on Christmas Eve ....
JSC
Herewego, thanks for reading and posting!
It was a special Christmas, way back in 1875...and it can be, once again, here in 2008.
Merry Christmas,
aj
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Herewego
Arkie John thanks for posting, wonderful story. Have a blessed Christmas and a Jesus filled day.
