WILLIAM WAS A CARPENTER. When a boy in the Sunday-school he learned to think of his soul and of eternity. But as he grew up, the cares of business drove these thoughts from him, and he settled down to the duties of daily life as if he should live forever. But one day, while lifting a great piece of timber, he strained himself. His strength gave way, and William had to exchange the cares of business for a sick bed. There the lessons of his childhood came back to him, and his overanxiety for the bread that perisheth was supplanted by the cry of his soul, “What must I do to be saved?”
“Ah, sir,” said he to me, “it goes hard with a backslider when he comes to lie upon a bed of sickness.”
“Yes,” I replied; “and it will go hard with us all if God should deal with us after our deservings; but the precious blood of Christ cleanses the blackest heart from every sin.”
Upon seeing William again, I found him grasping these words of Jesus: “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). The Spirit of God had given him a sight of himself, and a sight of the Savior. The burden of sin was rolled away, his sorrows were gone, and increasing pain and weakness only proved his patience.
A long illness set in, during which William’s faith was strengthened, and his love to Christ increased. One day he said, “I wish to die, that I may go to see my precious Jesus. Oh, what love it was in Him to find me out! I should never have come to Him, unless He had brought me. And what should I have done without Him? I should be where there would not be a drop of water to cool my burning tongue. Oh, the love of Jesus!—His hands, His feet, His side! He forgives and casts none out. None—none—none!”
On one of the last days of his long and weary illness, I said, “Even today Jesus may say, ‘Thou shalt be with Me in paradise'.” His sweet smile seemed to answer, “Oh, that it might be so!” In the after-part of the day he rallied, and said to his mother, “I want—I want"—“Well, my dear,” she replied, “what is it?” “To sing,” said he, “and you, and father, and all join with me.” He then began—
“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
This is your accepted hour,
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love and power;
He is able!
He is willing! Doubt no more.”
As he proceeded, his eyes fixed on heaven, his voice grew louder, and for a time his soul seemed to gain victory over the weakness of a dying body; while the sobs of the family were choking their voices, death, so close at hand, could not overcome his. “Come to Jesus!” he exclaimed, “Come, whosoever will! Come now, this is your accepted hour. Jesus will not cast any out! Jesus is ready to save you. Come to Jesus. None but Jesus can do helpless sinners good. Oh, come now, and do not delay; put it not off. He will cast none out.”
He entreated his brothers and sisters to come to Christ. One of his sisters said, “Oh, William, we will pray.” “That will not do,” he replied, “you must come to Him, now, now! Ah, you little know what I suffer for your soul. My pains of body have been nothing compared with this. The tears I have shed for myself have been nothing to those which I have shed for you.”
And so he passed away, and his humble testimony appeals to you, dear reader. How many such appeals have you not heard? “Come, Come,” these entreaties cry to you. Come to Him who came to earth and died to save; who has gone to heaven, to bring to Himself up there everyone who receives Him here. —R.