He wanted one more drink--the Devil's temptation!--but at last I
coaxed him to the Elevated Station at Houston Street. He said, "I wish
you could see my home and family. Will you come up with me?" It was 10
P. M. and going would mean home for me about the early hours. But I went
up to the Bronx, got to his home, saw him in, was bidding him
good-night; nothing would do but I should come in. He had a nice little
flat of five rooms. I was introduced to his wife, who was a perfect
lady. He wanted to send out for beer. I objected, and his wife said,
"George, don't drink any more! I think you have had enough."
Now was the time for me to get in a little of God's work, so I told him
my life, and what drink did for me, and I had an attentive audience.
When I finished, his wife said, "I wish my husband would take your
Jesus, Mr. Ranney. I'm a Christian, but, oh, I'd give anything if George
would take Christ and give up his drinking!" He made all kinds of
objections and excuses, but we pleaded and prayed. God was working with
that man, and at 3 o'clock in the morning we knelt down, the wife, the
husband and I, way up in the Bronx, and God did mightily save George.
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