IN a previous issue of this magazine we told the story of a lady who was led to seek and find peace with God through reading a copy of "The Gospel Messenger." She passed in triumph into God's presence, while the one who gave her the message continued on life's journey, still scattering "the good seed.”
Some thirty years later, when the war clouds hung heavily over stricken Europe, he also was drawing near the heavenly portals. War might rage all around him, but the peace which God had given him many years before was as real as ever, and peace which lasts "through all life and what is after living" is surely worth possessing.
It was often a deep pleasure to hear his bright testimony to God's unfailing faithfulness through a long life, with all its joys and sorrows. There was no fear as he faced Eternity—death held no dread for him, for it was only a passing over unto "the other side" in the company of his Savior. The ground of his peace found expression in words he often quoted in those closing days:—
“Peace with our holy God,
Peace from the fear of death,
Peace through the Savior's precious blood,
Sweet peace—the fruit of faith.”
Peace with God, and from the fear of death who can estimate its value? and such is the portion of all who rest entirely on the merits of "the Savior's blood." But it was not only His blood which was precious. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself was "a living bright reality" to the aged sufferer.
One day when apparently lost to all on earth, with eyes fixed on the corner of the room, he said (as if speaking to One verily present), "My precious Lord Jesus—my precious Savior!”
A few days before he entered His immediate presence, one of the Lord's servants called to pay a final visit to his friend. The mental powers had almost gone, and he did not at first recognize his visitor, but a relative remarked, "It is Mr.— who preaches the Gospel," while the friend added, "The Gospel you believed, you know.”
It was wonderful to see the failing intelligence reassert itself at the sound of the much-loved word. "Yes, I believed it," he answered with emphasis, and added, "Did I ever tell you how it came about?" and then with joy he told the story for the last time.
“I was very anxious about my soul," said he, "I wanted something I hadn’t got, I wanted light. Then one day when I could bear it no longer, I went to the little back bedroom to have it out with God and get the matter settled. He gave me that beautiful word, The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?' (Psa. 27:11<<A Psalm of David.>> The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1)). And I saw it in a moment—the Lord was light.”
“And you accepted it?" said the visitor.
“Yes," was the response, "I accepted it. I made it my own.”
Psa. 27 was naturally very precious to him, and the first verse, whispered into his ear when consciousness had almost gone, drew forth even then a faint response, "The Lord is my light, what a word”
A short time before his death he awoke from sleep with a joyful smile and said, “I have had such a lovely dream I saw quite a number of those I spoke to years ago about their souls. They all passed before me one after another, and they were such a happy company. It has made me so happy." Long ago the Apostle Paul wrote to some to whom he had spoken God's word," What is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at His coming " (1 Thess. 2:1919For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? (1 Thessalonians 2:19)). This paper may possibly fall into the hands of some whose own salvation is secured, but who have never yet tried to win others for the Savior. No such glad recollection, or blissful prospect, could bring joy to their hearts on a dying bed. May they be stimulated to begin at once, for
"At the end of the day 'twill be sweet to say,
I have brought some wanderer home.”
No gift of oratory is needed for this, for the one of whom we write never gave a Gospel address in his many years of service for the Master. A tactful word here, a Gospel booklet there, a word of sympathy, or a conversation to help to settle soul-difficulties—these were his methods, but many think of him as their "father in Christ.”
Go and do thou likewise," for" ye are My witnesses, saith the Lord.”
“Have you not a word for Jesus,
Will the world His praise proclaim;
Who will speak if ye are silent,
Ye who know and love His Name?”
ANON.