Some years ago a soldier named Johnson lay ill in a large military hospital. The matter of his soul's salvation became of special concern to a devoted Christian lady named Miss Sandes who visited the hospital regularly, bringing comforts and rays of heavenly sunshine to the sick and the dying.
But Johnson, although grateful for the many kindnesses she showed to him and the others, turned a deaf ear to any mention of his soul needing a Savior. Finally he asked her to promise not to speak on the subject again. On the impulse of the moment she promised.
But one day while Miss Sandes visited in Johnson's ward, they saw through the open window near Johnson's bed a military funeral procession. It was the funeral of his friend who had died in the next ward. As the solemn strains of the Dead March, played by the regiment's band, entered the ward, Johnson's eyes were seen to fill with tears. Turning to Miss Sandes he asked in a low voice:
"Do you remember that promise?"
"Yes, only too well."
"Well, forget it. You may talk to me about my soul as much as you wish."
"Shall I tell you about that poor fellow they are taking away to bury?"
"Yes, do. I heard you were with him and that he died happy."
"Yes, I was with him," said Miss Sandes, "and he did die happy. But there was a time when he, like you, did not care for anyone to talk to him about his soul.
"While serving abroad he had saved a good deal of money, but on his return home he began drinking it away until it was all gone. I tried again and again to reach him, but he avoided me.
"One night, dead drunk, he lay outside in the pouring rain until morning and caught a terrible cold which settled in his lungs. I found him later in the hospital, very ill and very miserable. When I asked him what the trouble was, he told me his Company had gone out on detachment that day. Among them were his chums, the very men with whom he had squandered all his money. And not one of them had come to wish him good-by!
"The tears rolled down his cheeks. It was the same old story of The Prodigal Son—
“‘He began to be in want... and no man gave unto him.'
"Thank God, I was able to tell him of the `Friend that sticketh closer than a brother'— the Lord Jesus, who wanted to be his real Friend and Savior.
"He listened to me eagerly and from then on he loved to hear more about Jesus.
"One day I found him with such a look of rest and peace on his face, that I could not help remarking: " 'You are very happy today!
"Yes,' he answered brightly, 'I will tell you all about it.'
"'I could not sleep last night. I was restless and miserable, while all my past kept coming before me. Ah! I never could tell you what a black, dark life it has been. And my sins!— they rose mountain high. I knew I must stand before God, and was not fit to die. Then I thought of the verse you have so often quoted:'
“‘The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.' And the lines of a hymn I had heard at one of the meetings:
“‘The Father will not punish me
'Twas laid upon His Son.'
“‘That lifted the load off my heart. I saw that God had laid my sins on Jesus, and now, `The Father will not punish me. Oh, it is wonderful.'
“‘Doubts and fears often assailed him afterward, but he clung to those words, 'The Father will not punish me— 'Twas laid upon His Son.'
"I was with him the other day, holding his hand to the end. His last words to me were: “‘I am a guilty sinner; but Jesus died for me.' “Johnson’s heart was melted by Miss Sandes' account of his friend's conversion, and he said: "I wish I could say that Jesus died for me. I know that I am a guilty sinner. Oh, you don't know how bad I have been!"
Shortly afterward, he too believed that "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin," and was filled with joy and peace in believing. Reader, can the same be said of you?
END
"But how do you know that there is any Christ? You never saw Him!" said poor Augustine St. Clare, the slave-owner, to Uncle Tom, the slave.
"I feels it in my soul, mas'r; oh, mas'r, the love of Christ that passeth knowledge."
"But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you; what if I should tell you that I don't believe your Bible? Wouldn't that shake your faith some, Tom?"
"Not a grain, mas'r."