THE father of a family had suddenly been I laid low by a paralytic seizure. For several days he lay apparently taking little notice of his agonized wife or sorrowing children; only at intervals there seemed to be a glimmering of consciousness, while upon the fourth day there frequently escaped from his lips in these intervals a sigh or ejaculation. The only daughter stood by the bedside of him who was too evidently her dying father, her memory and imagination busy in recalling the entreaties and warnings of this same father, and the many prayers which had been offered for his children by the lips so soon to be silent in death.
The heart of this loving child appeared full to overflowing, as she clasped the unresisting hand, and wiped the death-sweat from the clammy forehead. Thinking she perceived a ray of recognition in the much-loved features, she bent forward and whispered, “You are very ill, father.”
“Yes, very ill,” came the faint answer from the dying christian.
The father had been remarkable for strong faith in God, the daughter wondered if doubts perplexed or afflicted him now, so she asked, “Can you trust Christ now?”
The filmy eyes unclosed, and with a look expressive of great surprise, and with such emphasis that the daughter will never forget, the dying saint replied, “I should think I could!”
After this emphatic reply he again sank into a state of insensibility, from which he passed to the land “where faith is sweetly turned to sight.”
The eyes which are looking upon this page may someday be dim―the hands now holding this magazine be powerless. Friend, have you trusted your eternal all to Jesus? R. C. C.