A short time ago, as a dear daughter was watching by the bed-side of a dying mother, she observed her unusually restless, and apparently in great suffering. With the tender anxiety of a child, and of one who had nursed her during her illness, she softly said, “Can I turn you, mother dear?” But, oh, what was her answer? With a wild and frantic scream of despair she exclaimed—“Turn me from hell!” And thus she died; leaving on the heart of her own child these words of burning agony—“Turn me from hell!”
She had been often warned—often entreated to repent, believe, and turn to the Lord; but, like many others, she found always so much to do as to this present life, that she had no time and no heart for the things of God—of the soul—of heaven—of hell—of eternity. But the day came when she had to leave all behind her and appear before God to answer for the deeds done in the body.
Before laying down this paper, my dear reader, do listen to that most tender, loving, and pathetic complaint—“Ye will not come unto me [said Jesus] that ye might have life.” And is this really the cause of the unreasonable—the unaccountable course of so many? “Ye will not come to me, that ye might have life!” Come then, oh, come, my fellow sinner, to the blessed Jesus; why should He have to complain that thou wilt not come to Him? In the greatness of His love He died for thee—He died on the cross for thee—He has opened up the way for thy return to God and glory. The precious blood of His perfect sacrifice has been sprinkled on the throne of God; and whosoever comes in the faith of that blood is welcome and blessed according to its value in God’s sight. Oh, then, believe in His wondrous love, trust His precious blood, rely on His faithful word, give thy heart to Him—“Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him.”