“DO you know that S., the artist, has, through drink and gambling, fallen into great poverty, and is now dying of consumption in your district?” said a fellow tract-distributor to me one day, in one of our large seaport towns in the south of England. “He may, perhaps, see you. Do call on him, and try to get in a word with him about Christ. Hitherto he has allowed no one entrance, and he keeps a large dog to prevent people coming in. When the clergyman called, S. would only argue, and would not allow him to read or pray, and when the meek, godly town missionary visited him, he literally terrified him with dreadful language. His temper is so irritable that his children (one a boy of fourteen, the other a girl of twelve years of age) have to be kept out of his way, while his poor wife endures all, praying God to give her husband time for repentance.”
Here was a description of the state of a dying man! I had heard of S., and of his attending a meeting of Atheists, which is held regularly in our town each Lord’s day, and also occasionally on other nights. It seemed that I was called to see the poor man: so the next day I set out to visit him. It was about six o’clock, and a lovely May evening, so I took a branch of hawthorn in my hand in full bloom. On seeing me at the door, his wife fled in haste, without saying a word, but I saw from the room I had entered that she had called the dog away with her. This room had no fireplace, and its only furniture consisted of a small bed and two chairs. Upon the floor a handsome brass-bound writing case was lying―a relic of better days. Upon the bed was stretched poor S., wasted with disease, and reading a medical book on his own case. He at once entered into conversation with me about it, offering to lend it to me. I placed in the dying hand of S., the artist and the skeptic, the hawthorn bough, which, with its sweet white blossoms, by its beauty, proclaimed the Creator’s skill.
After some conversation, I said to him, Now, S., you are an intellectual man, and you must see how near death is to you. Have you ever realized how good it is of God to provide salvation for the lost? It is written, ‘God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ I saw he was listening, and added, “Have you ever thought what it must be to perish— to be utterly lost— to be shut out from God forever?”
To my joy, S. gave me permission to read a few passages from God’s word to him, so read― “God is greater than man. Why dost thou strive against Him? for He giveth not account of any of His matters. For God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; then He openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, that He may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man. He keepeth back his soul from the pit, and his life from perishing by the sword. He is chastened also with pain upon his bed, and the multitude of his bones with strong pain: so that his life abhorreth bread, and his soul dainty meat. His flesh is consumed away, that it cannot be seen; and his bones that were not seen stick out. Yea, his soul draweth near unto the grave, and his life to the destroyers. If there be a messenger with him, an interpreter, one among a thousand, to show unto man His uprightness: then He is gracious unto him, and saith, “Deliver him from going down to the pit: I have found a ransom.” (Job 33:12-24) Then I told him that Jesus, God’s Son, was the ransom God had found for our redemption, and added, “God is love, and full of compassion―yes, to you, just as you are―in your pain and misery, and at death’s door.”
“All my freethinking has profited me nothing,” said S. And he asked me to mark the chapter, saying he would read it again, for it just met his case.
“I will now read some beautiful verses,” said I, and proceeded with these words: “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven: if so be that being clothed we shall not be found naked. For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life. Now He that hath wrought us for the self-same thing is God, who also hath given unto us the earnest of the Spirit.” “Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God. For He hath made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Cor. 5:1-5 and 20, 21.)
On hearing these wonderful wordy of God, S. wept bitterly. He confessed God’s goodness to him in sparing his life, and, on my praying and giving God thanks, he joined in. Thanking me for coming to see him, he invited me to come again, and I left.
The next day a Christian friend called, to whom S. said that God had saved him, and had made him a new man, and that he was now resting on the finished work of Christ. Daily the change was manifested. “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to Himself by Jesus Christ.” Instead of his former swearing, and his constant outbursts of temper, he became loving and gentle with his family, and was grateful for every little kindness shown him.
I offered to sit up with him at night, but he would not allow it, saying it would inconvenience me too much. His delight was in the word of God and prayer.
I should add that he had kept the hawthorn bough in his fevered hand all the time of my first visit, and when his wife came in, after my departure, he said to her, “Wife, look at this beautiful flower! How could I ever doubt that there was an Almighty God?”
She replied, with tears, “Oh! how often have I prayed Him to give you time for repentance! All praise to Him! In grace and mercy He has heard me.”
S. lingered for a few days, giving testimony to all around that there is salvation for the vilest through the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Satan had lost one of the skeptics in our town, and there was joy in the presence of the angels over a sinner who had repented, and there was joy in our hearts, too, who had prayed for poor S.’s soul. God had delivered him from the pit; God had found the ransom. To Him be the glory!
Two other men, members of that infidel club, died the same week as S.; but they died in their infidelity.
G. T. was the son of a godly mother, who had prayed for him for sixty years, but he imbibed infidel principles, and attended the meetings of these Atheists constantly. He was sixty-seven years of age when he was taken ill, and lingered a fortnight. He was watched day and night by neighbors, who kindly took it in turns, for such was his agony that he wanted to put an end to his life. He died without confessing or acknowledging God. It is written, “It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.”
On the day that G. T. died, a companion of his in infidelity returned to his home to supper, and, while in the act of stooping to take off his boots, was seized with a fit of apoplexy. The town missionary, already mentioned, lived next door, and he, together with his wife, hastened to poor T.’s assistance, and, having rendered him the necessary help, prayed God to have mercy on his soul, and repeated passages of Scripture, so long as T. seemed to be conscious.
The cries and groans of the poor man were so awful that the neighbors did not go to bed, and early in the morning his spirit departed. Not one word did he utter.
In that small town three members of the Atheist club lay in their coffins at one time, a solemn lesson to all who despise the revelation of God contained in the Bible. It is a vain thing for man to try to forget that he has a soul which must live forever, either in joy unspeakable, or in woe unutterable. Infidelity ceases forever with the grave; but in this life only can a man find salvation. I pray you consider while yet there is hope, lest, my dear readers, you should be suddenly cut off, and find yourself in that awful place where there is no hope. Now the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and that precious blood is God’s own provision for cleansing ruined and sinful man from his sins.
J. McC.