I got into a streetcar in Buffalo with a prayer in my heart that I might speak to some lost soul about Christ. When the conductor came for my fare I also gave him the leaflet: "Where Hell is." As I handed it to him he laughed and said, "You always give me one of these religious papers! I suppose you think me a very wicked fellow; but I am about as good as they make them.”
I held up my Bible and asked: "Do you see this book? It tells me, 'The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,' Jer. 17:99The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9). That means your heart and mine. That doesn't sound so very good, does it?”
"Oh, well," he said, "there is plenty of time for me to think about these things. I am still young.”
"Yes," I answered. "But if you go into any cemetery you will see graves of all sizes. A little girl once asked her mother how old must one be before he dies. The wise mother gave her child a piece of string and told her to go into the graveyard and measure the graves, and every time she measured to tie a knot.
"Soon the child came back with the string full of knots. 'Look, mother, the graves are all sizes'
"'Yes, dear, that is when people die; at all times and ages.'”
Again the young man laughed and said, "There is plenty of time for me.”
As I was leaving the car I said to him: "Remember, the time is short! You need not go to a Christless grave and to hell. Jesus died for you.”
This young man had been a conductor for only a few weeks, but during that time I had often met him, and always gave him a tract. As this was not a busy line, I often had a little talk with him and other conductors, and sought to bring Christ before them.
The next morning I traveled by the same car, but a new conductor was on it. He told me that the one I had spoken to the day before had intended going for an afternoon's pleasure trip; but in jumping from one car to another he had missed his footing. He had fallen under the car, and was so badly injured that in a few hours he had died.
Now my heart was indeed burdened. Had he gone to a Christless grave? Or had that solemn warning by the Spirit been just in time? I went to his home, and as I looked upon the young man's face in death, I could not help thinking what an awful warning to anyone who thinks "there is plenty of time for me.”
God in His love and mercy had given this young man time, but, oh how short that time was! God gave him a last message. Reader, this may be God's last message to you!
Oh, will you not come to the Savior now?—Tomorrow may be too late.