Four years after the Titanic went down a young Scotsman rose in a meeting in Hamilton, Canada, and said, 'I am a survivor of the Titanic. When I was drifting alone on a spar on that awful night, the tide brought Mr. John Harper of Glasgow, also on a piece of wreck, near me. "Man," he said, "are you saved?" "No!" I said, "I am not." He replied, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved."
`The waves bore him away; but, strange to say, brought him back a little later and he said, "Are you saved now?" "No," I said, "I cannot honestly say that I am." He said again, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved," and shortly after he went down. There, alone in the night and with two miles of water under me, I believed. I am John Harper's last convert.'
(Acts 16. 31)
It had been a dull year in the little country church. The deacons finally said to the pastor: "We love you, pastor, but don't you think you had better resign? There hasn't been a convert this year."
"Yes," he replied, "it has been a dull year. Yet I mind me that one did come—wee Bobby Moffat. But he is so wee a brian that I suppose it is no right to count him."
Years later, when Robert Moffatt came back from his years of missionary work in Africa, the King of England rose and uncovered in his presence. The humble old preacher, who had but one convert and who was so discouraged, is dead and forgotten, and yet that was the greatest year's work he ever did.