“JESSIE S— is dying of galloping consumption,” was the news brought to me. I did not know the girl, but had heard of her as being the only one now left of a large family, who, with the mother, had all died of consumption. The father, too, was lingering on with the same terrible disease.
What a precious message of salvation I could take to them in their sad circumstances. That Christ Jesus came into this world to save sinners, and that His blood could cleanse them from all sin—the message which years before had reached me, a lost sinner, saving my soul and making my heart glad, and which would theirs too, I hoped, if it had not done so already. What an eternity of joy lay before them if they received it!
When I called at the house a young person led me up to Jessie’s bedroom. The disease had, indeed, made rapid progress, for she who only a few weeks before had been going about apparently in good health, was now just nearing the end of her young life.
Her cold, curt greeting told me that I was no welcome visitor, and when I spoke to her of the Saviour who had died to save, and whose precious blood could cleanse her from all her sins, her peculiarly hard, repelling manner showed that the message was as distasteful to her as the messenger was unwelcome.
Poor Jessie! I felt reluctant to leave her in that state with eternity so near, and again I spoke to her of the Saviour who had said, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28).) But there was no response, and the cold, hard look never left her face.
On leaving Jessie, the open door of the next room showed the father in bed, apparently as near death as was his daughter. I asked if I might come in, and he nodded assent. He talked of their illness and sad family history, and then, in the hope of bringing the conversation round to eternal subjects, I asked where he had got a book called “Grace and Truth,” which I had seen amongst a pile of novels in Jessie’s room.
“A man I worked with gave it to me,” he replied.
“I wonder how he got it,” I said, “for I know the book well as one much used in bringing souls to Christ.”
“Well, it was in this way. Soon after we began to work together my mate got married to a young woman he was very fond of. A year or two after, an old sweetheart of hers came to live near them, and, after a bit, persuaded her to run away with him. My mate, poor fellow, was almost beside himself, and was determined to follow them, fully bent on killing the man who had taken his wife from him; but some religious people came and talked to him, and one of them gave him this book. Well, from reading that book my mate became a thoroughly religious man—a changed character altogether. He was always talking to me, and when he left he gave me his book, and begged me to read it.”
When he had finished his tale, which had often been interrupted by his terrible cough, I said, looking at him earnestly, “And has that book been the same blessing to you as it was to your mate?”
The question seemed an unfortunate one. Perhaps it had recalled to his mind his mate’s constant pleadings with him and the deaf ear he had turned to them. He made no reply, but hastily covering his face up to his eyes with the counterpane, fixed them on me with what I was sure was no friendly gaze.
I felt, however, that I must not let the opportunity slip, so, as plainly as I could, I told him of God’s great salvation: how God had sent His Son into the world to die for sinners, and that in virtue of His atoning death on Calvary’s Cross, God forgave every sinner who, in repentance, turned to Him. In some such words I put before him what he must often have heard from the lips of his friend.
I could see the man was under the power of strong feelings by the working of the upper part of his face; but whether it was anger caused by my question, or whether it was the Spirit of God once more striving with him, I could not tell, for he did not speak again or remove the covering from his face while I was there.
All hope that he was turning in repentance to God was dispelled, when a few days after I got a joint message from father and daughter requesting me “not to go to see them again, for they did not believe in my doctrines.”
In little more than a week Jessie was dead, and was soon followed by her father.
Is there anything in this world half as sad as a Christ-rejector’s deathbed? No present joy, or hope of future happiness. On the brink of a lost eternity, yet rejecting God’s offered forgiveness, which alone could save from it.
Reader, are you saved?
F. A.