Pastor Eruke

THE INFLUENCE OF A MOTHER’S PRAYERS.

More than thirty years ago, one lovely Sabbath morning,
about eight young men, students in a law school, were
walking along the banks of a stream that flows into the
Potomac river, not far from the city of Washington. They
were going to a grove, in a retired place, to spend the
hours of that holy day in playing cards. Each of them had a
flask of wine in his pocket. They were the sons of praying
mothers. As they were walking along amusing each other
with idle jests, the bell of a church in a little village not two
miles off began to ring. It sounded in the ears of those
thoughtless young men as plainly as though it were only
on the other side of the little stream along which they were
walking.

Presently one of their number, whose name was George,
stopped, and said to the friend nearest him that he would
go no farther, but would return to the village and go to
church His friend called out to their companions, who
were a little ahead of them ‘ Boys! Boys! Come back here;
George is getting religious; we must help him. Come on,
and let us baptize him by immersion in the water.” In a
moment they formed a circle around him. They told him
that the only way he could save himself from having a cold
bath was by going with them. In a calm, quiet, but earnest
way, he said:
“I know very well that you have power enough to put me in
the water, and hold me there till I am drowned; and, if you
choose, you can do so, and I will make no resistance; but
listen to what I have to say, and then do as you think best.
“You all know that I am two hundred miles away from
home; but you do not know that my mother is a helpless,
bed-ridden invalid. I never remember seeing her out of
bed. I am her youngest child. My father could not afford to
pay for my schooling; but our teacher is a warm friend of
my father, and offered to take me without any charge. He
was very anxious for me to come; but mother would not
consent. The struggle almost cost her what little life was
left to her. At length, after many prayers on the subject,
she yielded and said I might go. The preparations for my
leaving home were soon made. My mother never said a
word to me on the subject till the morning when I was
about to leave. After I had eaten my breakfast she sent for
me, and asked me if every-thing was ready. I told her all
was ready, and I was only waiting for the stage. At her
request I kneeled beside her bed. With her loving hand
upon my head, she prayed for her youngest child. Many
and many a night I have dreamed that whole scene over. It
is the happiest recollection of my life. I believe, till the day
of my death, I shall be able to repeat every word of that
prayer. Then she spoke to me thus:
“My precious boy, you do not know, you never can know,
the agony of a mother’s heart, in parting, for the last time,
from her youngest child. When you leave home, you will
have looked, for the last time, this side of the grave, on the
face of her who loves you as no other mortal does or can.
Your father cannot afford the expense of your making us
visits during the two years that your studies will occupy. I
cannot possibly live as long as that. The sand in the
hourglass of my life has nearly run out. In the far off
strange place to which you are going, there will be no
loving mother to give counsel in time of trouble. Seek
counsel and help from God. Every Sabbath morning, from
ten to eleven o’clock, I will spend the hour in prayer for
you. Wherever you may be during this sacred hour, when
you hear the church bells ringing, let your thoughts come
back to this chamber, where your dying mother will be
agonizing in prayer for you.. Kiss me-farewell!”

Boys, I never expect to see my mother again on earth. But
by God’s help, I mean to meet her in heaven.”

As George stopped speaking the tears were streaming
down his cheeks. He looked at his companions. Their
eyes were filled with tears.
In a moment the ring which they had formed about him
was opened. He passed out and went to church. He had
stood up for the right against great odds.
They admired him for doing what they had not the courage
to do. They all followed him to church. On their way there,
each of them quietly threw away his cards and his wine-
flask Never again did these young men play cards on the
Sabbath.

From that day they all became changed men. Six of them
died Christians, and are now in heaven. George is an able
Christian lawyer in Iowa; and his friend, who wrote this
account, has been for many years an earnest, active
member of the church. Here were eight men converted by
the prayers of that good Christian woman. And, if we only
knew all the results of their examples and their labors, we
should have a good illustration of a mother’s prayers—
Bible Models.

Pastor Eruke Taunu (PET)
+2348033693211, BB Pin 79E7A704
Twitter handle : @Pastor_Eruke .

Sweet mother, I no go forget you. But op,

[quote author=honeybunch83] Six of them
died Christians, and are now in heaven.

The agonizing prayer from the heart of a sincere mother can break many chains and ensure fulfilment of destiny
Thank God for mothers and fathers who birthed us in the place or prayer
In truth, some of these werent event bilogical parents

@ oluchikeh: God bless you real good. I very much well concur. Your comment is a living truth.


@ egopersonified: thanks for chipping in that evergreen song of appreciation to all mothers.