IT was Sunday night, and in a seaport town a congregation was just dispersing, when the preacher took note of a little girl, who seemed to be lingering behind, and kept her eyes upon him with a wistful expression. He spoke to her.
“How old are you, my dear?”
“I am just seven.”
She turned as if to go away; then, making a sudden effort, said earnestly, ―
“Oh, sir, everyone says my father is dying, and I am sure he is very ill, and no one tells him about his soul.”
“Do you think he would let me come and see him, my child?” said the aged evangelist, deeply touched.
“No, sir,” replied the child, in a mournful but decided tone; “I am sure he would not see you.”
“Well, my dear, you must go home and pray to God, who hears every word you say, and knows every wish of your heart; ask God, our Father, with whom nothing is impossible, to make your dear father willing to see me.”
The little girl’s face brightened as she said goodbye, adding, “I won’t forget.”
In the course of the evening word came to Mr. S― that if he would call at ten o’clock the next morning, Mr. E― would be happy to see him. He afterward learned that when his little daughter, in her simple loving way, had said, “Papa, there was a gentleman preaching in the great hall tonight, and he was so sorry when I told him you were ill, and he said he wished he might come and see you. May he come, papa?” the father had at once answered, “Oh, yes, by all means, let him come if he likes.”
Next morning, at the appointed time, Mr. S― called, but was asked to wait in the drawing-room as the doctor was paying his visit. Presently he heard a sound of laughter, broken by a hollow cough, and saw the patient accompanying his physician to the top of the stairs, and wishing him good-morning. Through the open-door Mr. S― could see the worn tottering figure, and could even hear the rapid painful breathing of the sick man; and as he turned to enter the drawing-room, his face wore a haggard, lifeless look, which, accompanied by the terrible cough, told its own tale.
Laughing loudly, and rubbing his hands, Mr. E― came to greet his visitor. “The doctor tells me my lungs are as strong as his own,” he said. “There’s nothing the matter with me but what a little time and change will soon set right.” But, even as he spoke, his voice was broken by the relentless cough, and he sank breathless upon a chair.
“My dear sir,” said Mr. S―, too much shocked to wait for chosen words in which to set his ease before him, “I implore you, let no one deceive you. You are a dying man; time will indeed bring a change for you, but it will be the great change of death.”
“I believe you are right, sir,” said Mr. E―, burying his face in his hands; “those are terrible words―startling words―a mighty change indeed, from life to death; but you have had the courage to tell me the truth, and I thank you.”
“Let me read you a few verses from God’s Word,” said Mr. S―. Taking his Bible from his pocket, he read the well-known verse, “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” “The love of God―”
Mr. E― looked up. “I know nothing of these things,” he said hurriedly; “I never went to church but twice in my life. They took me there when I was a baby to be christened, and I went to be married. I know nothing of religion.”
Not noticing this sad interruption, Mr. S― continued in simple earnest words to speak of God’s love in the gift of His Son. Then, fearful of exhausting the little strength of the sick man, he took his leave, not without permission, readily granted, to renew his visit.
Each morning during the week found the aged evangelist at Mr. E―’s door, glad in the thought that he was about to speak the life-giving word to ears which God Himself had opened to receive them. Day by day, as simply as a, little child would receive the word of its father, did Mr. E― drink in the message of the love of God, even to him, who until this last hour of his mortal life had never thought of Him. Monday morning came, and at the usual time the invalid came to greet his visitor. Tottering into the room, he fell upon the couch, and had just strength to whisper, “I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ―and I am going―to be with Him―forever.” And he was gone the mighty change had come, but it was a change, not from life to death, but from death to life, a “stepping out upon the platform of eternal life.”
C. C. S.