IT was a very severe night. The ground was covered with snow, and the wind was piercingly cold, when we entered the night train for the south at Newcastle. One of the passengers, after speaking of the severe weather, muttered in a low tone, "A day's march nearer home." I said, "Do you really mean that?" But he gave a very vague reply. He was sitting exactly opposite me, and observing he was ill-provided with rugs, I offered to share mine with him. He was a gentlemanly man, and very modestly accepted my kindness. But not taking so much of the rug as I wished, I said, "Do not be afraid, for as a follower of Christ, I feel I ought to love my neighbor better than myself." He smiled, and sat very quietly for some time. At last I broke the silence by saying, "I heard you repeat just now a line of a hymn that I know very well, found in this verse—
‘Here in the body pent,
Absent from Him I roam;
And nightly pitch my moving tent,
A day's march nearer home.'
and it struck me much. Pray, Sir, may I ask if you have peace with God?" To which he readily replied 'in the affirmative. On asking him if he had long enjoyed peace with God, he said," I tried for a, long time to save myself, but the more I tried the more darkness and misery I knew, till I saw that Christ had done it, that He had saved sinners by His death upon the cross." It was comforting to find a passenger in a railway carriage reply so clearly to such a personal and pointed interrogation, and our conversation went on to the consideration of such scriptures as show that the true believer has the present possession of everlasting life, &c.
But what struck me especially was his saying that he had tried for a long time to save himself, because it describes the state of thousands, if not millions, in the present day. They are working and praying, keeping days, sacraments, priding themselves on their benevolence and sincerity, hoping to merit heaven in this way; closing their days, as they say, with the happy reflection of a well-spent life, while, at the same time, they are dead in trespasses and in sins—without Christ as a Savior, but trying to save themselves. How different is God's way of salvation. He cuts down all their self-righteous law-keeping pretensions by one sentence, that "By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight," and that salvation is entirely by grace—the free love and favor of God to sinful men, and not of works, lest any man should boast, Should these lines meet the eye of any dear soul; who are thus blinded, may you be turned from darkness to light, from the darkness of your own thought, to the light of God's word, and the crucified Son O, God. Then only will you learn God's way of saving men, and you will find it done only by the death of the Son of God. Observe it is done. He said upon the cross, "It is finished," and bowed His head in death at once. Redemption is what you need, and it has been accomplished. Hence the Apostle said, "In whom (Christ) we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace." (Eph. 1:77In whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace; (Ephesians 1:7).)
May you then, dear reader, give up at once every thought of your own goodness, of your getting better, of your making peace with God, or becoming by your own works in any degree fit for His presence. Such 'religion is all false. Look only to Christ's death upon the tree—see Him there made sin for you, made a curse for you, bearing your judgment, purging your sins, and now your life and righteousness at the right hand of God. This alone is God's way of peace; for He has made peace by the blood of His cross. But you say, Must I do nothing in order to be saved? Nothing, absolutely nothing—it is finished. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." When you have peace with God, you cannot work too much to please and honor Him who saved you in such wondrous mercy, and at such a cost.