Deacon Lee, who was a kindly, silent, faithful, gracious man, was one day visited by a restless, ambitious, worldly church member who was laboring to create uneasiness in the church, and especially to drive away the preacher. The Deacon came in to meet his visitor who, after the usual greeting, began to lament the low estate of religion, and inquire as to the reason why there had been no conversions for two or three years past.

“What do you think is the cause of things going dull here? Do you know?” he persisted in asking. The Deacon was not ready to give his opinion and, after a little thought, frankly answered, “I don’t know.”

“Do you think the churches are alive to the work before them?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you think the minister fully realizes the solemnity of his work?”

“No, I don’t.”

A twinkle was seen in the eyes of this troubler in Zion; and taking courage, he asked, “Do you think Mr. B. a very extraordinary man?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you think his sermon, was anything wonderfully great?”

“No, I don’t.”

Making bold after all this encouragement in curt replies, he asked, “Then don’t you think we had better dismiss this man and hire another?”

The old Deacon started as if shot with an arrow and, in a tone louder than he wanted, shouted, “NO, I DON’T!”

“Why?” cried the amazed visitor, “You agree with me in all I have said, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You talk so little, sir,” replied the guest, greatly amazed, “that no one can find out what you mean.”

“I talked enough, once,” replied the old man, rising to his feet, “for six praying Christians. Thirty years ago, I got my heart humbled and my tongue bridled, and ever since then I have walked softly before God. I then made vows, solemn as eternity, and don’t you tempt me to break them!”

The troubler was startled at the earnestness of the hitherto silent, immoveable man, and asked, “What happened to you thirty years ago?”

“Well, sir, I’ll tell you. I was drawn into a scheme just like this one of yours to uproot one of God’s servants from the field in which He had planted him. In my blindness, I fancied it a little thing to remove one of the ‘stars’ which Jesus holds in His right hand, if thereby my ear could be tickled and the pews filled with those who turned away from the simplicity of the gospel. I and the man that led me—for I admit I was a dupe and a fool—flattered ourselves that we were conscientious. We groaned because there was no revival while we were gossiping about, criticizing and crushing instead of upholding by our efforts and our prayers the instrument at whose hand we harshly demanded the blessings.

“Well, sir, he could not drag on the chariot of the gospel with half a dozen of us taunting him for his weakness, while we being as a dead weight to the wheels; so we hunted him like a deer till, torn and bleeding, he fled into a hiding place to die. Then God came among us by His Spirit to show us that He had blessed the labors of His dear, rejected servant.

“Our own hearts were broken, and our wayward children were converted, and I resolved to go at a convenient season to visit my former pastor and confess my sins, and thank him for his faithfulness to my wayward sons, who like long buried seeds, had now sprung up. But God denied me that relief that He might teach me a lesson, that ‘he who toucheth one of His servants toucheth the apple of His eye.’

“I heard my former pastor was ill and, taking my oldest son with me, set out on a twenty-five mile journey to see him. It was evening when I arrived, and his wife, with a spirit which any woman ought to exhibit toward one who had so wronged her husband, denied me admittance to his chamber. She said—and her words were as arrows to my soul— ‘he may be dying, and the sight of your face might add to his anguish!’ ‘Had it come to this?’ I asked myself, ‘that the man whose labors had, through Christ, brought me into the fold, who had consoled my spirit in a terrible bereavement, and who had, until slandering men alienated us, been to me a brother—that this man could not die in peace with my face before him!’

“I confessed my sins to that meek woman and implored her for Christ’s sake to let me kneel before His dying servant and receive his forgiveness. As I entered the room of the blessed warrior, whose armor was falling from his limbs, he opened his weak eyes and said, ‘Brother Lee! Brother Lee!’ I bent over him and sobbed, ‘My pastor! My pastor!’ Then, raising his white hand, he said in a deep, impressive voice, ‘Touch not My anointed and do My prophets no harm.’

“He was now unconscious of everything around him. The sight of my face had brought the last pang of earth to his troubled spirit. I kissed his brow and told him how dear he had been to me. I craved his pardon for my unfaithfulness, and promised to care for his widow and fatherless children, but his only reply, murmured as if in a troubled dream was, ‘touch not Mine anointed, and do My prophets no harm.’

“I stayed by his bed all night and at daybreak I closed his eyes. I offered his widow a house to live in the remainder of her days, but like a heroine she said, ‘I freely forgive you, but my children who entered deeply in their father’s anguish shall never see me so thoughtless of his memory as to take anything from those who caused it. He has left us all with his covenant God and He will take care of us.’

“Well, sir, those dying words sounded in my ears from that coffin and from the grave. When I slept, Christ was there in my dreams, saying, ‘Touch not Mine anointed and do My prophets no harm.’ Those words followed me until I fully realized the esteem in which Christ holds those men and women who have given up all for His sake, even if they are not perfect. Since that day, sir, I have talked less than before and have supported my pastor, even if he is not a very extraordinary man. My tongue shall cleave to the roof of my mouth and my right hand forget her cunning before I dare to put asunder what God hath joined together. When a minister’s work is done in a place, I believe God will show it to him.

“So, I will not join you, sir, in the scheme that brought you here. I would give all I own to recall what I did thirty years ago. Stop where you are and pray God if perhaps He will forgive you the thoughts of your heart.”