The Titanic's Last Hero Read Online Free PDF

Without a doubt, as those who knew him well can testify, the passionate, vehement longing that found expression in his public utterances had its well-spring in the seasons of prolonged supplication to which he gave himself. He was preeminently a man of prayer. Barely one month before his end, when in Glasgow on a visit, he spent half an hour with several people over a cup of tea, and the last word they remembered him saying was that the need of today was a deeper prayer life.
    His brief ministry at Walworth Road was significantly blessed of God. Progress was made. The church membership increased. Everything looked hopeful. New ties of interest were formed. New friendships were made. Then came the invitation to conduct special services in Moody Church in Chicago during the past winter. References to that notable work appear in the later pages of this volume.
    When he returned to London in January, it was not thought that he would agree to pay a return visit quite so soon as he arranged to do. But he was going off “early in April,” he said a fortnight before he sailed.
    “Why are you going back so early? Surely not again to conduct special services?”
    “Oh, no,” he said. “I am going to conduct the regular services in the Moody Church and speak at conferences and other gatherings elsewhere.”
    Full of hope, he set out on the ill-fated steamer and met his demise on the way. But, is that what we should say? Should we not rather say that he met his Lord on the way?
    On that fateful Sunday night, just an hour or two before the Titanic struck the iceberg, Harper looked at the sky. Seeing a glint of red in the west, said, “It will be beautiful in the morning.” Yes, so it would, but the beauty that would break on him was not that which he alluded to when he spoke these words. The beauty of the Savior would fill his vision.

Photo of Pastor George Harper

CHAPTER 3
    MY BROTHER AS
I KNEW HIM
    By Pastor George Harper
    Edinburgh, Scotland
    The fear of death did not for one moment disturb me.
    I believed that sudden death would be sudden glory.
    John Harper, after nearly drowning at age 32
    TO ME, PASTOR JOHN HARPER, who sank along with more than fifteen hundred other people in the never-to-be-forgotten Titanic catastrophe on April 15, 1912, was my brother in a double sense—in the flesh and in the Lord. He was my only brother in the flesh (as four other siblings were our sisters). Together we were brought up, together we bowed at the family altar, as our godly father “…kneeling down to heaven’s eternal King, the saint, the father, and the husband prayed.”
    Together we slept as boys in the same room, together we went to school, together we fished for trout in the little burn that flowed not far from our cottage home. Together we sat in the village church, and with but the brief space of three months between, I may add, together we entered the heavenly pathway, and as the years rolled on, we kept step in our beliefs and convictions, in matters spiritual, sharing our joys and sorrows in every possible way. The great ingathering of precious souls into our Lord’s Kingdom, which my dear brother witnessed in Chicago that winter, afforded me unbounded joy. Surely, then, my text will not be grudged me when I quote it. “I am distressed for thee, my brother John; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women” (David’s words of grief at Jonathan’s death, II Samuel 1:26.)
     
    SAVED FROM DROWNING AT TWO YEARS OF AGE
    The earliest recollection of my boyhood days is associated with an accident that befell my brother. We had been playing some little, childish game beside the rather deep spring well at the end of our garden, when John missed his footing and tumbled into the well. He was then only two and a half years old. What could I do? The only thing was to stand at the top of the steps and cry “Mother! Mother!” for all I was worth. Mother came to the rescue just in