Were it not for the encouragement and, it may be, the help of those who are engaged in the happy work o: leading souls to Christ, there would be no good reason for referring to the last days of Mr. W. Besides, it is often difficult to speak with certainty about death-bed conversions. Real, we know, they may be, from the fact of the conversion of the thief on the cross; but in the near approach of death there is everything to create concern about the soul’s salvation, and nothing from the outer world to attract or draw it aside. Willingly or unwillingly it is done with the things of this life, and unless there be great hardness of heart, or great delusion, there is generally a readiness to listen to the story of the Savior’s love.
Most of the conversions that we hear of amongst the aged seem to take place in the sick chamber; comparatively few are met with in the preaching room. In the ordinary work of the evangelist, the majority of his converts will be found between the ages of twelve and twenty-five. This is a deeply solemn thought, but the remark has been made by many of great experience in the Lord’s work. Still, in the judgment of charity, there are many above that age, in times of affliction and trial, and in the prospect of death, brought to repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. His name have all the praise and glory!
The excuses which the Lord refers to in His parable of the “ great supper,” seem to strengthen this impression. “ Then said he unto him, A certain man made a great supper, and bade many; and sent his servant at supper time to say to them that were bidden, Come; for all things are now ready. And they all with one consent began to make excuse. The first said unto him, I have bought a piece of ground, and I must needs go and see it; I pray thee have me excused. And another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them; I pray thee have me excused. And another said, I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.” As it is always easy to find a good reason for a bad thing, so here lawful duties are urged as the most unanswerable excuse. But the truth is, the mind was pre-occupied with the cares of this life—they were now on their own responsibility—and there was no room for Christ. Time and thought were entirely absorbed with present things, to the utter neglect of spiritual things.
Mr. W. was one of this class; utterly careless through a long life of commercial activity in London. Well “ read up” in politics, in all exciting cases in the law courts, and fond of discussing such subjects. But, alas, the Bible rarely read; seldom in any place of worship, and as for prayer, there could be none. The daily paper, the fresh excitement, unfits the mind for the presence of the living God—the searcher of hearts. Such was the life of Mr. W. for about forty years, and such is the/life of thousands and tens of thousands at the present time, and the whirl and the excitement are ever on the increase.
On hearing that one I had known for many years was seriously ill, I called to see him. The change in his appearance was great; he was so reduced and altered that I could scarcely have identified Death-stricken, the end, I saw, could not be far off. he expressed the greatest pleasure in seeing the face of an old friend; at least one he could count upon as a friend in his lonely sick chamber. He knew what I had come for. After a few words about his bodily state, he looked at me anxiously, and said, “I am done for now.... I am dying.... I can never be better.” A solemn conversation followed on the great realities of the soul and eternity. The following is substantially, almost exactly, what he said to my inquiry as to the state of his mind; and being very able to express himself, he made rather a long speech. But as it expresses the state of most minds in Christendom, we think it worthy of a place in our magazine.
“ I know I am dying, and I have no hope but in the mercy of the Almighty; and I have been paying more attention to my religious duties lately.... I have neglected them too long.... I have been asking the Almighty in prayer to forgive my sins. I know I am a great sinner, but He is merciful, and I trust He will hear my prayers I mean not to forget these things any longer. Last evening after I had spent some time in prayer, I felt great consolation within me....”
That word, “ great consolation,” exhausted my patience. I felt it was time for me to speak; besides, he was greatly fatigued, being short of breath; but I felt that my work was not to soothe him in his delusion, but to disturb his false dreams of “ consolation.”
“ I am glad,” I said, “ that you are thinking so seriously about these things, but you will not think me unkind if I say that you have completely overlooked the only remedy for sin.” “ What is that?” he inquired. “ The blood of Christ,” I replied. He looked very anxiously at me. “ It is a right thing, of course,” I said, “ to pray, but no amount of prayers or consolation within you, apart from the blood of Christ, will over remove one single sin from your soul. Unless you are washed in that blood, be assured, you must go down to the place of torment under the guilt of all your sins.” Knowing his circumstances and his past career, I spoke plainly and strongly. I pressed this one point—The blood of Christ shed on the cross for the chief of sinners, God’s only remedy for sin. That it was either implicit faith in that precious blood, or the flames of hell forever. That the grand truth for him now to seize was this—There is no limit to the power of the blood of Jesus Christ, and that faith in the efficacy of that blood would bring down from heaven the immediate, full, and everlasting forgiveness of all his sins. And now to pray that he might have a deeper sense of his sin, and of the precious blood of Christ.
After giving him some texts to think over, and praying with him, I left. But I could not get him out of my mind. So I wrote to him the same evening and embodied in a letter all I had said about his sins and the blood; and sent him some tracts and books besides. I allowed one week to pass before calling again, when I received a letter from his daughter begging me to call, as her father wished to see me. I went the same day. A.s I entered the room, he raised his hand, with a glad welcome expressed on his countenance; and when I said, “ How is it with you now?” “Nothing but the blood!” was his only reply; “ Nothing but the blood.” I could scarcely reply for a moment; my heart was so full. “ Praise the Lord! praise the Lord!” was nearly all I could add for a little. The Lord had graciously opened his mind and bowed his heart to the great truth about the blood of Christ. I found he had read the tracts and was diligently reading the scriptures. He said that he was happily resting on the truth that Christ had died for him, and that he was saved through faith in Him.
He lived about three weeks after this: I saw him repeatedly, we had free conversation together about the things of the Lord, and he always seemed happy as to his spiritual state; but I would only add, that my last visit is one never to be forgotten. It was the closing scene. There is always a peculiar solemnity and reality in seeing a man die. If he is not right before he dies, he cannot be put right after, the scene closes for over. All my anxiety seemed to awaken as at first. He could hear, but not speak. I begged him to assure my heart it he were perfectly happy, resting on Jesus and His precious blood, by pressing my hand, which placed in his. He pressed it, moved it to and fro, with his eyes staring on me as if to say, What more can I do? All is peace.
I prayed, as if to help him across the line. But, oh 1 The parting! His wife and daughter were convulsed in tears and sobs; he was far past such violent emotion. As I had to attend a meeting, I was obliged to leave about an hour before he died. The farewell was almost too much. Pointing to heaven as the place of our next meeting, to which he assented with a slight movement of the head, and a bright speaking expression of the eye, I rushed into the open air to dry my eyes and recover my natural self.
Since his departure I have learned from those who called to see him that he said, speaking of himself as a sinner, “ Yes, I have been a careless sinner, and there is nothing between me and the flames of hell but the blood of Christ; that is all I have to rest upon.” This has been a great comfort to me.
Perhaps my readers will think that I am not very easily satisfied; certainly not with death-bed conversions. I would seek to be doubly sure with such, as there is no world then to attract or ensnare them. Besides, the subtlety of Satan, and the flatteries of friends with the view of soothing them, may be fatal to the immortal soul. The subject of this paper was no doubt well pleased with his religiousness when he felt “ great consolation within him,” on rising from his knees. This was the snare of Satan, intended for the eternal ruin of his soul. And had he passed away under this consolation, his conscience undisturbed, he would have had no bands in his death, and fond friends would have said that he died perfectly happy; that he passed away so peacefully. Whereas, in plain truth, he was only soothed and flattered by the enemy. How many, alas, die under this satanic delusion!
But think not, my dear reader, that my anxiety to see reality in such cases, leads me to be less hopeful or earnest for the conversion of the aged or dying—most assuredly not. It is as easy for divine grace to save the old as the young—to save the drowning mariner when the waters of death are gurgling in his throat, as the man who lies peacefully on his bed and surrounded with praying friends. If the heart cries to God for mercy in the last moment, He will never say, I have no mercy for thee. He Himself has put the cry there—not to disappoint it—but fully and forever to satisfy it. But the uncertainty connected with death-bed conversions, should make us a thousand-fold more anxious for the salvation of those who are in youth, health, and strength. Why delay till there is feebleness of body and mind—till there is distraction from pain and suffering? Why not come to Jesus in early life? Why give the world and Satan the bloom and vigor of youth, and the merest dregs of thy existence here to the blessed Lord? Why not lay thy youthful heart on His altar, as an offering wholly consecrated to His service and glory? “ My son, give me thine heart,” is a fair but most gracious demand.
Forget not, my youthful reader, His just claim upon the entire homage of thy heart. He climbed the bill of Calvary for thee, worn and weary, and knowing all that was before him. There he was bound to the altar of judgment for thee, and wreathed with a crown of thorns; there He suffered, bled, and died, that thou mightest be saved from the flames that will never be quenched, and from the worm that will never die. What hast thou done for Him? What hast thou suffered for Him? What has been thy gratitude to Him? Wouldst thou be happy to see His face to-day? Is He all thy salvation—all thy desire? Oh think of His love, of His sufferings, of His fair claims; and as thou art crossing the threshold of another New Year, be sure that thou commence it with a heart undivided for Him. We know of no happiness for a new year, or for any day in all the year, but in fullest, sweetest, fellowship with Him. All happiness without Christ is vapid and worthless, and must soon pass away, as time rolls on rapidly, and make way for the endless torments of the lost in hell. Let thy first business then, in the year 1875, be the salvation of thy soul through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
That all our readers may have a happy new year, in the richest and truest sense, and one of happy service and communion with the Lord, is our most earnest and fervent prayer.