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Pulling his coat tight against the bitter wind, the old man stopped at the crest of Blue Bank Hill, near Flemingsburg, Kentucky. Above him, the winter sky pinked with the first blush of dawn: a blush reflected in the snow all around him and in the treacherous ice beneath his feet.

Just in front of him, the road dropped off like a roller coaster -- a roller coaster coated with deadly ice! Beside him, his weary mules chomped at their bits, their warm breath forming instant puffs in the freezing air. Behind them loomed the wagonload of railroad ties they had been pulling ever since four o'clock that morning along twisting, unpaved eastern Kentucky mountain roads. They were ties that he himself had logged and dressed from his own forest, for although he was already 75, Reason ("Reece") Hinton was still as strong and ramrod-straight as a man half his age.

But was he strong enough to make it down that hill without losing his load, his mules, or even his own life? If only he had known about this ice when he left home! Then he could have asked one of his sons or grandsons to come along -- though they probably would have had the sense not to in such weather. Unfortunately, Reece Hinton was a stubborn man, to his usual regret. But, somehow, God always managed to come through to help him out of all of his difficulties.

For instance, when he was very small, his beloved mother, Clarinda, had died. But God brought a new mother into his life, whom he came to love just as deeply. Then, after he was grown and married, and the children came one after another -- eight in all -- his wife, Laura Belle, was always in poor health. Then he, himself, became so ill that the doctor feared for his life. "Dear God," he had prayed then, "please let me live long enough to raise all of these little ones. If you do, I will serve you with my whole life."

God answered that prayer beyond all expectation. Indeed, Reece hadn't been sick a day since. In gratitude, he vowed to spend his life learning the scriptures and praising God. Eventually, he committed whole chapters of the Bible to memory. Also, he used the beautiful voice God had given him to sing God's praises everywhere he went, including hymns he composed himself.

Even as he stood in his current predicament, "O God Our Help In Ages Past" burst into his mind, begging to be sung. But he needed every ounce of energy possible to keep his wagon from careening out of control on the way down that hill. Not enough brake action could cause a wild, and possibly deadly, plunge; too much could lock the wheels, jerking them sideways and pitching those heavy logs forward onto his helpless mules.

Still praying, he spoke encouragingly to the protesting animals, then clicked the reins. As they lunged, he jerked the wooden brake stick back and forth to maintain control. Inch by inch, they moved forward. Then, suddenly, the wagon began gaining momentum while the mules fought in vain for footing on the glass-slick ice.

Desperate, now, Reece fought with the brake, his fingers almost frozen from the cold and the effort. But between the ice and the down slope, and with the rapidly increasing speed, he was quickly losing the battle.

"Dear God!" he prayed out loud, "If you're going to help me, please do it quick!"

"Hey there, Mister, could you-all use an extra hand?"

Jerking around, Reece saw a farmer sitting on a fence post beside the road. Not even stopping to wonder why anyone would be out there this bitterly cold morning, Reece yelled back, "Sure could, son."

In a moment the stranger had reached him. "Can't blame you. This hill is almost impossible when it's iced up like this. Headed into town?"

"Right. Got to deliver this load of ties. Sure glad to see a friendly face."

Reece expected the man to help with the reins up front, or to pull back on the wagon from behind. Instead, the stranger just put his hand on the wagon's side and walked companionably alongside it in the snow. But something remarkable happened. Instantly the mules stopped sliding; the wagon stopped skidding. They could have been traveling on flat ground!

The two men continued talking about mules and lumber and things of the Lord all the way down the hill. At the bottom, the stranger said, "Well, I guess I'd better go now."

The old man reached for his new friend's hand. "You'll never know how much I've appreciated your help, son. You-all from around here? Sorry, I didn't get your name. You know how us old men forget to...." He stopped. There was no one there. Now that all the danger was past, the stranger had simply vanished into thin air.

As soon as he returned home to his farm in Muses Mills late that night, Reece told his daughter, Alice, and his granddaughter, Ruby, about this wonderful stranger. And he continued to talk about him until his death at eighty, insisting that God had sent a Heavenly Being to help him that bitter, icy morning.

My great-grandpa never stopped thanking God for it, either!