ON the 31St March I called to inquire for P. D. O., who had already suffered, and that most patiently, for three years, in order to see for myself how he was, and to learn if there were any hope of ultimate recovery.
He had, a few weeks earlier, passed through a severe attack of the “influenza” epidemic, by which his frail body had been sorely reduced, ―an attack so prostrating that at times his mind would wander, and then he could neither exercise it himself, nor allow others to speak or read to him. Indeed, so thoroughly was he then unfitted for work, that he could not even think of the Lord, or of things dearest to his heart. There was, he told me, but one fact on which he could rest, viz., “that underneath were the everlasting arms; overhead a glorified Christ; and himself between them.”
But by this time the dire effects of the influenza had passed away; and, other symptoms being favorable, he cherished the hope that, if it were the Lord’s will, he might yet be raised up; and spoke of taking a change of air to Rothesay when the season had advanced a little.
There was at work, however, another form of disease, the true nature of which was, perhaps, unsuspected by him. Other eyes could see, if his could not, the subtle inroads of consumption, made all too plain by the tickling cough of which he was conscious, and which refused to yield to treatment.
At the close of my visit we had a season of prayer together, ―one of those memorable occasions, known to many of his fellow-laborers, when his soul poured itself out in customary fullness, unction, and power before the Lord; and then I bade him farewell, cheerfully and even hopefully.
Three weeks passed, and then I received from him a pencil note, written in a shaky and feeble hand, and dated 23rd April, as follows: ―
“My DEAR BROTHER, ―A word. I have been getting worse since you were here―had Dr. B. and Dr. L. here yesterday―can hold out no hope of recovery-both lungs affected. Tell dear G. and H. I ask your prayers for special grace to hold up my soul. Love to all. Farewell. P. D. O.”
His sudden “Farewell” took me by sad surprise. I had hoped against hope, and had often looked to the Lord that He might, even yet, spare a servant so promising, and so devoted, as he. But such hopes were crushed by the sorrowful tidings of this letter.
I felt that the end could not be far distant, and hastened to make one more visit to his now dying bedside, ―again to grasp his hand and hear his voice.
Accordingly on the 7th May I found myself beside him. His appearance was greatly altered and awfully reduced. The strong, kindly old grasp of the hand was almost the only outward mark of his former self. But that still remained: it was truly characteristic. He was able to speak but little, and slowly, but with perfect coherence. A rather better night’s rest had strengthened him, and therefore he was able, in a measure, to converse freely on subjects that were mutually dear. Amongst other matters, I mentioned to him a passage from which I had heard him preach, viz., “What, then, shall I do with Jesus?” “Ah,” he replied, “several souls have been saved by that!”
He then paused, and, as though casting a glance both backwards and forwards, he calmly said, “But what is all our little work? We must go home... through the Blood of the everlasting covenant!”
A true and happy confession, I thought, and a clear testimony to the blood of Christ as the only passport to the kingdom of God. Service the most devoted―ways the most irreproachable―a life the most blameless―furnish no title thither! What, indeed, is all our work? It is, at best, but the fruit of grace; and, even then, how imperfect! Hence our only, but all-sufficient title―the title of the “dying thief,” or the martyr Paul―the title of the feeblest believer, as of the most pronounced―is solely in the blood of Jesus. That is the one truth by which to die, while we cannot afford to lose one part of the whole word of God by which to live. We live by every word which proceedeth out of the mouth of God. We die victors, by faith in the blood of Christ!
I recalled to memory how much he had been used of the Lord in leading souls to Him, especially in his own neighborhood, and so I asked him if he could tell to how many he had been thus instrumental. He answered that for a long time he had kept a record of the particulars of each of his meetings, but that latterly he had given up doing so. But he mentioned, with evident gratitude, a case just reported to him, of a conversion under his preaching some seventeen years previously, and of which he had never heard until then. This happened at the very dawn of his evangelistic labors. Such instances of the Lord’s favor to him filled his heart with joy and thanksgiving.
Then I alluded to the path of faithfulness being narrow, and to the fact that, in paying due regard to the truth of the Church, the sphere of the evangelist is apparently limited. He replied quickly, “That’s not the point; it is Christ’s path.” He said these words with determined emphasis. “But,” he added, with deep feeling, “I think Christ will soon come and take His bride home. Things, everywhere, are in a fearful state. The devil seems to have taken possession of men.”
A true witness every way, I felt; but, if true, how solemn! Things around hopelessly evil; and Satan’s power terribly evident. Nothing remaining now but the coming of the Lord for His bride! That coming may be very near. Till then it is “the path of Christ” for each of His people, and the honest, faithful effort to lead souls to Him.
I asked him if he had any parting message for the unconverted, which I might pass on. He made a very long pause, and then, with striking deliberateness, said, ― “THERE’S PLENTY! NONE LIKE CHRIST TO LIVE FOR, AND LABOR FOR, ON EARTH! NONE LIKE CHRIST FORD A DYING BED, AND ALL WE WANT FOR ETERNITY!!!
Without a word of comment, I give to you, dear reader, this last message, and not the least noble sentence, of one whose Christian life for eighteen years had given bright confirmation to its every syllable. Yes, I give it to you, with the prayer that you may make it as a living voice to your inmost soul, so that your life may take more distinctly the form of one who can also declare that there is none but Christ to live for on earth.
Ten days of suffering followed, and then, still it the prime of life, the dear patient sufferer was taken home to be “absent from the body, present with the Lord.”
“ ‘For ever with the Lord!’
Amen so let it be:
Life from the dead is in that word,
‘Tis immortality.’”
J. W. S.