" Then he said, "Father, you don't want
me to drink, do you?" I wondered at these questions, and looked at him
with tears in my eyes. I said, "No, Bill, my poor boy, I would rather
see you dead and in your coffin beside your poor mother, and know you
were going to be buried to-day, than to know you would ever drink or be
like your father was. Bill, don't you ever take the first glass of beer
or whiskey! Ask God to keep you from it."
I wondered what was coming next, but I didn't have to wait long. The boy
said, "The people are watching you and say you won't come back from the
grave without having a drink, and that you won't be sober a week from
now. Pop, trust in the God that saved you ten years ago, won't you? You
know we promised to meet mother. Fool these people and let them see that
you are the man and father I love."
I straightened up, looked at the lad, and out went my hand. We shook
hands and I said, "Son, with the help of God I'll never drink again."
And there at the head of the coffin we knelt and asked God to help us
and make us men such as He would have us be; we asked it in the name and
for the sake of the Christ who died for us.
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