AMONGST the passengers who left Dublin, one day in the autumn of 1865, en route for Easky, a small town in the west of Ireland, was a collegian named P. M., a young man possessing rare mental powers, but a skeptic. His tendency was to cast ridicule upon everything, especially upon sacred subjects. Seldom would you meet with a stranger contradiction. At one time he would be found advocating the cause of total abstinence to an attentive and delighted audience, having, according to his own confession, drunk freely of whiskey before going to the meeting, to prepare himself for the occasion. At another, he would be the confidential friend and adviser of Fenian conspirators. In his rooms secret meetings were held, and treasonable schemes concocted and debated. At the same time, he held a responsible post as schoolmaster and church organist. His chief delight, however, was to surround himself with his college friends and fellow students, and to mimic and ridicule well-known evangelical preachers. His powers of mimicry were considerable, and he became the admiration of a set of godless young men, who, like himself, were on the broad road to destruction.
Having introduced P. M., and briefly described his general characteristics, I want to tell you of three links in the marvelous chain of God’s providence towards him. And as you read, let me ask you to remember that God who moves in such mysterious ways in the actings of His providence, and who wrought so marvelously to draw this slave of Satan to Himself, is He who so loved the world as to give His only begotten. Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have ever lasting life.
LINK No. 1. —The train from Dublin arrived in Sligo two hours late. The coach carrying the mails from thence to Ballina, and calling at Easky, had left before the train reached its destination. It was the last conveyance to Easky that evening; there was, therefore, no alternative for the traveler but to remain in Sligo until the next morning. P. M.’s active mind sought for some congenial way in which to pass the evening, and his eye caught sight of a placard announcing addresses by certain well-known evangelists. He quickly decided what to do—he would go and hear what might furnish fresh material for ridicule, or at least, help to wile away the time. He went, lie hastened, and upon leaving was addressed by one of the preachers. His clever reasoning powers were brought to bear upon the preacher, and apparently P. M. gained an easy victory; but the preacher’s earnest manner, and plain pointed words, pierced beneath the garb of seeming indifference, and rankled uneasily in the conscience. Vainly he tried to stifle his convictions, and free himself from the impressions they had produced.
The vacation over, P. M. returned to Kingstown, but not to peace or rest. The remembrance of that evening at the Gospel Hall in Sligo haunted him, and caused him many uneasy and sleepless nights. In vain, reason, skepticism, and infidelity were brought to bear upon his restless conscience.
Infidelity gives its votary no solid resting place, nothing sure and certain to hope in; no balm for a troubled heart, no comfort to soothe an uneasy conscience. As day after day rolled away, his trouble and anguish increased. “There is no peace, saith my God, unto the wicked”; the truth of this he was now learning.
At length Satan whispered, “End it all; death is the sure way to rest and peace.” The poor unhappy skeptic gladly caught at the suggestion. He would end all his troubles by ending his existence.
LINK. No. 2.—After due consideration, he deliberately made up his mind to drown himself. He selected a spot off Kingstown at a place where the tide runs out very rapidly from which to throw himself.
Upon consulting a tide table, he found that two hours would elapse before the, turn of the tide. Stoical and determined, he went to his rooms in Kingstown, ordered some coffee, then sat down and wrote a paragraph headed “Mysterious disappearance,” the substance of which he intended should appear in the Dublin and Kingstown papers. This done, he took down a textbook, and spent the remainder of the two hours in solving mathematical problems. When the time was up, he put on his hat, and walked out to the spot which he had selected for the act. As he went along, he said to himself, “Ah, M., you will soon know all that is to be known of the hidden world. The great secret will soon be out, the great mystery solved!”
Having reached the place, he slid down several feet to a projection immediately over the dark waves. He paused for a few moments gazing on the restless waters, ere he took the plunge—a plunge through the portals of death right into the endless horrors of a sinner’s eternity! The night air was calm and still. As he lingered a moment, softly, solemnly, distinctly, he heard a voice a short distance of singing; and these words fell upon his ears—
“Guide me, oh! Thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land.”
A strange awe and solemnity fell over him at hearing these unexpected words. “Others, then, as well as myself, have found this a weary land, and yet they have not left it,” he thought; “ought not I to try it a little longer?”
At once a revulsion of feeling set in: and he shrank with horror from the act he had been so eager to commit.
To retrace his steps, however, was not so easy, for an almost perpendicular wall was above him. The love for life returned with tenfold ardor, and each nerve and muscle was strained to climb the wall. How he did reach the top he knew not. Lacerated and bleeding, he dragged himself to his rooms, and such was the effect of the reaction, that he was confined to his bed for many days.
As he lay alone in his room, his guilt and sins passed in dread array before him. The Spirit of God had truly convicted him of sin. He dreaded to go to sleep, lest he should awake in hell. His conscience was thoroughly plowed up, he was indeed a miserable sinner. He had now reached the point where God could come in as Jehovah that forgiveth all iniquities, and healeth all diseases—a point where the laboring and heavy laden can hear of rest—rest for time and eternity—rest on the bosom of Jesus, the Saviour and Friend of sinners.
LINK No. 3.—We now reach the third link in the chain of God’s providences over the poor skeptic, once on the point of suicide, now a suppliant at the throne of grace.
The postman’s knock is heard, and a package addressed to P. M. is taken to his room. He looks at the handwriting: it is strange to him. He opens the cover, but there is no clue in it as to who is the sender. He proceeds to investigate the contents. It proves to be a little book entitled “The Blood of Jesus.” The blood of Jesus! surely that was what he needed. The blood that made an atonement, the blood that made peace, the blood that purges the conscience from dead works. He read the book over and over again, and God blessed its contents to his soul. He cast himself by simple faith upon Jesus, and found that blessed word true, “Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.”
Having believed with his heart unto righteousness, he soon made confession with his mouth unto salvation. He forthwith purchased several copies of the little book which God had used to his blessing, and posted them to various friends and fellow students.
The last tidings we received of P. M. were from the far west of America, where in spite of much physical weakness he was laboring successfully for the salvation of precious souls.
Reader, are you skeptic, infidel, or aught else naught but the precious blood of Christ will cleanse your sins away. None but Christ can give you rest.
Are you vainly seeking in the chaos of human philosophy to solve what is to such seekers the dark problem of the unknown world, the mysteries of eternity?
Would you know them? The word of God lifts the curtain and tells us that “tribulation and anguish” is the portion “of every soul of man that doeth evil.” That to the “fearful and unbelieving,” there will be weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.
But to him who trusts in Christ there will be “no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying,” but a home in the Father’s many-mansioned house, a glorious body, and a harp of God, and the endless song adoring the Lamb who was slain to redeem the vilest of sinners. Reader, which is your portion?