WHAT a sad and solemn thing it is to witness the departure from this world of one who has lived his life here without Christ, and with no thought of the reality of an eternity so soon and so suddenly to open upon him! I have a painful remembrance of one, who was at the time of which I write my fellow workman, whose memory is well-nigh lost by those with whom the bright days of his life were wasted and spent. Alas, he had lived forty years, without knowing, for one hour, that true peace which comes only to the heart that knows God as a Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ as a Saviour.
Indifferent at first to the glad tidings of the grace of God, my poor friend at last took pleasure in making light of God’s message of grace, and would pride himself upon his success in argument when disputing with some companion who tried to win him to listen while he gave a reason for his hope,―little did he think whose servant he was, while thus trying to shake the confidence of a simple believer in Christ; but the close of his earthly career was sudden and sad indeed.
At that time it was my lot to work in one of the large iron ore mines, so numerous in South Wales, and I lived near the mine, some two or three hundred yards from the pit’s mouth. One evening, as I ascended the shaft, two men descended―they were to work all night in a dangerous part of the mine.
At six o’clock next morning I was awakened by a loud rapping at my window. One of the two men whom I had seen the night before begged me to get up as quickly as possible, and give what help I could. “Poor Charley G― is killed,” he added, slowly. Trembling, I sprang out of bed, and was soon beside him; together we descended the shaft, and I found that my companion had already brought the poor fellow’s lifeless body to the bottom.
What were my feelings as I looked upon that covered corpse, crushed and disfigured, and then thought of the awful consequences of rejecting Christ, the only Saviour!
The One whom he had so often set at naught, that soul should now henceforth only justify―for had not He, the Friend of sinners, given him in life most blessed and gracious privileges? Quickly and without warning had come the end of that fruitless life. Had the one whom I had but lately seen full of life and health, fearing nothing, indeed gone―a Christless, unwashed, unpardoned soul, bearing his own heavy burden of guilt―into the very presence of the God whom he had so deeply offended?
My fellow workman told me in few words how it happened. While Charley was in the act of barring down a heavy piece of stone, another huge mass above him had broken loose, and come down upon him, crushing his head beneath its tremendous weight. We brought him to the top, and taking a door from its hinges placed him upon it, and solemnly and sadly bore him upon our shoulders up the road. Oh, how melancholy was the aspect of that beautiful summer morning!
This is but one, my reader, of the many sad instances which occur day by day, and bitter indeed is the remembrance of such. I pray you, if indeed you have been up to this time, if not a rejecter of Christ, yet indifferent as to His great salvation, think of these things.
Did you but know the reality of your danger, more eagerly than the drowning mariner seizes some floating spar, would you embrace the precious promises of the Gospel. Christ is able to save, and willing to save you. God grant that you may come to Him. W. M.