Page 21 of New Name


  Then began that wonderful benediction:

  “Now unto Him who is able to keep you from falling—”

  Ah! Then He was able. Then he might overcome!

  “And to present you faultless—”

  Faultless! What miracle was this? Every word was burned brightly into his soul. He didn’t have to do anything at all. It was all to be done for him by One who was able!

  “—before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy!”

  Murray stood with bowed head and a great sense of thanksgiving. He did not notice the little stir around him at first as the new members went back to their seats. Someone found Murray a seat near to the front, and he sat down and looked around him as if his eyes had just been opened to the world. Then he saw that white-covered table again. Four of the elders were lifting off the cloth that covered it. He saw the shining silver of the communion service. Then the minister’s voice again:

  “The Lord Jesus, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread; and when He had given thanks He brake it and said, Take, eat, this is My body, broken for you; this do in remembranceof me. After the same manner also, He took the cup when He had supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in My blood; this do ye, as oft as ye drink it in remembrance of Me. For as often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till He come.

  “But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread and drink of that cup. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself.

  “If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.”

  It was just at this point that Murray rose to his feet. It was as though the scales had fallen from his eyes, and he understood. He saw for the first time what he had been and what Christ was. And now he knew what it was he had to do. He had come to the Lord’s table, and he was unworthy!

  He took one step forward, and the minister looked up, astonished, yet feeling that there must be something important. He had great respect for this young man who had come to their midst so highly recommended.

  The minister stepped to meet him and bent his tall head to listen.

  “There is something I must say!” said Murray earnestly in a low tone. “Now!” he added insistently. The minister laid his hand upon the young man’s shoulder and was about to suggest that he wait until the close of the service, but he saw something in Murray’s face that made him desist. Perhaps the Spirit gave him a vision of this soul’s need. He straightened up and said in his usual voice, quite clearly, so that everybody could hear: “Our brother has a word to tell us. We will hear it just now.”

  Murray turned and faced the people who had taken him in so openheartedly and let him know that they honored him. There, almost in the center of the church, facing him with admiring interest and not a little pride, sat Mr. Elliot Harper, his superior in the bank, with three or four lesser dignitaries connected with the bank not far behind him. There, a little to the right, was a group of young people who had the day before hung upon his every word and given him all the honor and respect that one human being can give to another. There, a few seats to the left, sat Mrs. Summers, with her kindly eyes upon him, thinking no doubt he was about to tell some touching incident of the convention, in which he had carried so great a part. And there, beside him, with confidence and interest in his eyes, waited the pastor, sure that they were to hear something that would lift their souls nearer to Christ. And he, what had he to tell? For one brief instant he wavered, and then the memory of those quoted words came back, “He that eateth and drinketh unworthily—” He must not begin the new life wrong, no, not if it shattered every beautiful thing that could ever come to him again. Not if it robbed him of friends and livelihood and freedom. No, this was the great moment of his life, the turning point.

  But then came those other words, just heard: “If we confess—He is faithful to forgive our sins, and to cleanse us.” Oh, to be cleansed!

  So out of his heart he spoke!

  Chapter 24

  I can’t let this go on any longer!”

  His voice was husky with a kind of anguish. The church grew very still. Everybody stopped thinking idle thoughts and gave attention.

  “I’m not the man you think I am. My name is not Allan Murray. I don’t know where he is nor what he is. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I arrived here when you expected him, and you took it for granted I was he. I tried several times to get away quietly because I was ashamed, but you blocked my way by some new kindness, and because I was a wanderer from home and needed a home and a new name, I finally stayed. Then you made me president of that society, and I wasn’t big enough! I knew I couldn’t get away with that, and I meant to run away. But the Lord stopped me. He met me right there and showed me what a Savior He was. I guess I was like Saul. My Sunday school class taught me about him—”

  Four boys in the back of the church who had been snickering softly over a picture they had drawn in the back of the hymnbook looked wonderingly at one another and got red in the face and watery round the eyes.

  “So I gave myself up to the Lord, and He forgave my sin. Will you? I know it’s a great deal to ask of you, but I had to ask it before I came down here when Doctor Harrison called my name because he told me to, but I believed all those things he asked us, and I meant it when I took that vow with all my heart.” Then he turned to the minister: “I know I’m unworthy, but you said He would forgive if we confessed our sin, and I’m taking you at your word. I’m glad I came here this morning, and I’m glad I took those vows. They are going to be permanent for me. I’d like to have a part in this ceremony you’re going to have here. I’d like to be counted in if you think it’s all right, Doctor?” He looked at the minister again. “And then I’m going back to face some hard things at home, but I’d like to be counted in with you all this morning if I may. You said the Lord would give me a new name, one that belongs to me this time, and I want it. You took me in because you thought you knew my earthly father; will you forgive me because I want your heavenly Father to be my Father, too? I’m sorry I interrupted the service, but I couldn’t go on without letting you know first.”

  He would have dropped into the front seat, but the minister’s arm was around him, and the minister drew him close to hisside and said with a joyous voice: ‘“There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.’ ‘Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see him as He is.’ Let us pray.”

  And then with his arm still around Murray, standing together as they were, with Murray’s head bowed reverently, and such a light of love in that pastor’s face, Doctor Harrison prayed as he had never prayed before. Murray felt himself prayed for as Ananias must have prayed for Saul! Ah! if Murray’s companions, back in his home city that day killing time in their various frivolities, could have looked into that church and seen their former companion, they would have stared in amazement and perhaps remained to ridicule. But in that audience there was not one who looked critically upon the young man. It was too much like a scene out of the New Testament. One could almost seem to see a flame of Pentecost coming down. Mrs. Summers sat wiping away the happy tears, for she had spent many hours in praying for the dear boy under her roof. There were others weeping and many who were led to look into their own hearts and lives through Murray’s words, finding themselves unworthy also.

  “And now,” said the minister, “let all who will forgive our dear brother and take him into our full fellowship stand with me and join with us in singing ‘Blest Be the Tie That Binds,’ and then we will partake of the Lord’s Supper together.”

  Such a volume of song went up from the hearts of those Christian people as must have made the angels rejoice. Murray, looking up in wonder, could not see a single person sitting down. A
ll were on their feet. He was overpowered with the wonder of it.

  He knew he would never forget the beautiful communion service that followed. No other could ever be so beautiful. The choir sang softly and reverently bits of hymns that he had never heard before, but that they voiced so sweetly and distinctly that they sank into his soul to be a part of the picture of this day that was to stay with him to the day of his death.

  They flocked around him when the service was over, some with tears in their eyes, and wrung his hand, and shyly said they were glad he knew the Lord. Even Elliot Harper, dazed and a bit mortified though he was, that something had been “put over on him” before the world, had the good grace or the Christianity to come over and shake his hand: “Well, sir, you gave us a surprise, but I admire your nerve and your frankness. You did the right thing. Come and talk it over tomorrow. You’re a good businessman, whatever your name is, and I’m not sure but we can get together in spite of this.”

  Elliot Harper was a good man in many ways, but he couldn’t help thinking that perhaps it would be a good thing for the bank to have it known that a young man in their employ had been so out-and-out honest as to make public confession at the communion table. That bank was a little idol that he had set up unawares.

  But perhaps the greatest surprise of all that he had was to find the girl Anita standing quietly in the aisle up which he had to pass to Mrs. Summers, who was waiting for him.

  She put out her hand and said frankly: “I’m glad you did that, and I want you to know I’m very glad you’ve found Christ.”

  He looked at her in surprise.

  “You are?” he said, amazed. “I wouldn’t suppose you’d care. I always felt you didn’t trust me.”

  She gave a quick glance around to see if anyone was listening and then lifted clear eyes to his face.

  “I went to school with Allan Murray’s sister,” she said. “He came down to commencement, and I saw him several times. He has curly red hair and brown eyes, and he is taller than you.”

  Murray gave her clear glance back again, and then his face broke into a radiant grin.

  “You certainly had it on me,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I might have known I couldn’t get away with a thing like that anywhere on the face of this little globe. But say, why didn’t you give me away?”

  Anita was nearer liking him then than she had ever been before. She looked at him with a warm, friendly smile.

  “I had a notion it might be better to let the Lord work it out,” she said.

  “He has!” said Murray soberly. “I shall never cease to thank God for bringing me here.”

  “There’s one thing more,” said Anita gravely. “I wish you would tell me just how much Allan Murray had to do with this.”

  “Allan Murray! Why, not one thing, only that I have been using his name and his things and his position.”

  “And you don’t know where he is? You have no evidence that he was killed in that wreck?” There was an undertone of deep anxiety in her voice.

  He gave her a quick, comprehending glance.

  “I don’t know a thing yet,” he said gravely. “I’ve been wondering that myself every day I’ve been here, and wishing I knew, but I’m going to make it my next business to find out. Within the next twenty-four hours, if possible. I’ll let you know the result if you would like me to.”

  “I wish you would,” said Anita, her eyes cast down. “His sister was very dear to me. She died two years ago, and I’ve lost trace of him since. But I know there are none of his immediate family living.” She was trying to excuse her deep interest, and Murray answered heartily: “I’ll lose no time in letting you know when I find him,” he promised. “I think he is alive. I have reason—but I can’t tell you about that yet.”

  He noticed a look of relief in her face as he spoke, but several people who had been talking with the minister came down the aisle just then and separated them, and he went on to where Mrs. Summers waited for him.

  Half shyly he looked up, suddenly remembering that he must not be too confident. He was no longer Allan Murray, the Christian, whose name brought only honor. Perhaps Mrs. Summers would not feel like taking him back to her house now.

  “Are you going to forgive me, too”—he hesitated—“Mother?”

  “My dear boy!” she said warmly, slipping her hand into his unobtrusively and squeezing his fingers gently with her warm rose-leaf grasp.

  He had a choking sensation in his throat as if he were going to cry like a child. It was so good to be forgiven and loved. This was real mother-love!

  “Did you suppose I was going to stop caring for you just because you had a new name? You are not Allan Murray, but you are my boy, and you always will be.”

  “That is great of you,” he said huskily, because somehow his throat seemed choked with tears. “I appreciate that more than you can ever know! I’m not Allan Murray, but you may call me Murray. That’s my own first name. That’s how it all came about. That girl came out and called me Mr. Murray, and for the first instant I thought someone had recognized me!”

  “How strange!” she said. “What a coincidence! The Lord must really have sent you here.”

  “Well, I rather think He did,” said Murray. “I don’t know anywhere else I’ve ever been where I could have gone and met Him and been taught about Him the way I have here. It’s been a miracle—that’s all there is to it.”

  They were walking across the path to her house now apart from all the other people. There were still groups of people here and there talking with one another about the wonderful service and the astounding revelation concerning the stranger in their midst. Jane had met Anita at the door of the church. There were traces of tears of excitement on her cheeks.

  “Oh, don’t you just adore him, Anita!” she greeted her friend. “Wasn’t that simply great of him to be willing to come forward like that and tell the truth?”

  “Don’t be blasphemous, Jane,” said Anita crisply. “He’s not a god, or he wouldn’t have gone around lying for weeks.”

  “Oh now, Anita! There you go! I think that’s unchristian! I thought you stood up to say you were willing to forgive him.”

  “Forgiving’s one thing, and worshipping’s another, Jane. Don’t be a fool! That’s the one thing about you I can’t abide, Jane. You will be so awfully silly! Why don’t you say you’re glad he found out what a sinner he was? Why don’t you rejoice a little in the Lord, and worship Him for His saving power? We don’t have miracles like that every day. It’s really something worth talking about and worth giving God a little extra worship and adoration.”

  “Oh, mercy! Anita! You’re always so long-faced! I think you talk a little too intimately about God—I really do! Of course I understand you, but some people mightn’t think you were a Christian, you are so free talking about religion.”

  Anita’s answer was a hearty, ringing laugh as she turned into her own gate.

  “Oh, Jane, you’re unspeakable! Well, good-bye! See you at Sunday school!” And Jane went on her gushing way, thinking how handsome the hero of the hour had been that morning, and losing the real significance of the occurrence entirely.

  The minister had been detained with a messenger, who askedhim to come at once to the bedside of a dying woman, and Murray had slipped away without a word from him, but later he came back across the lawn to Mrs. Summers’ cottage and took the young man by both hands.

  “Dear brother,” he said, “I want you to know how glad I am that you gave that confession and testimony this morning. Aside from your own part in it, and the joy you have set ringing in heaven over a sinner that repents, you did more in that brief confession to show my people what sin and true repentance means, and what the communion service stands for, than I could have done in a year of sermons. I’ve come over to congratulate you on your new birth, my boy, and to offer my services in any way I can be a help to you in the further reconstruction of your life, and the hard things you have to meet from your past.”

&n
bsp; There with the minister and Mrs. Summers, while the dinner waited in the oven, Murray told them his story. Briefly, with very few details of his home, beyond the fact of his name, and that he had been the means of killing a girl in an automobile accident and had run away from justice to protect the family name from being dragged through the criminal courts.

  “But I’m going back at once,” he said firmly. “It was all as plain as day to me while I sat in the service this morning. I asked God to show me what to do next, and that was what He seemed to tell me. I’m afraid I made a mess of your service, not understanding just what came next and where would be the proper time to interrupt you. But I just couldn’t go on and take that communion with that on my soul!”

  “You did right, brother. I’m glad you did just what you did,” said Doctor Harrison sincerely.

  “Well, I’ve got to make everything clean and clear, and then I don’t care what comes to me. I’ll have to suffer the penalty of the law, of course—that’s right—but now I know I’m not going into it alone. I’ve got to go to the girl’s mother and confess and ask her forgiveness, and then I’m going to give myself up. It’s the only right thing, of course. I ought to have seen that before. But first I’ve got to hunt up that Allan Murray and make things right with him while I’m free. And that reminds me. Mrs. Summers, there’s a letter upstairs among those you laid on my bureau that seems to be from him. I’ll run up and get it.”

  He was gone up the stairs with a bound, and the minister sat and smiled at Mrs. Summers indulgently.

  “Well, Mrs. Summers, he’s a dear boy, isn’t he? And our Lord is a wonderful God. He worketh mighty miracles and wonders. Now, I wonder what can have become of that man Murray! I feel responsible for him. I wrote his pastor that he was here, and he was all they had said he was and more. I wonder if we shall like the real man as much as his substitute.”