I HAD been for some weeks attending on Mrs. H―. An incurable disease slowly, but certainly, was shortening her days, but, God be thanked, as the outer man grew weaker, and more attenuated, the inner man developed in vigor and power.
She had known the Lord many years, her heart was in the enjoyment of His love, and, as she felt the chill hand of death each day more firmly settling on her, her spirit brightened, as the prospect of soon beholding Him, who had loved her and died for her, became more distinct before her soul. Two or three days before she passed away I said to her, “I am going to speak this evening at a cottage meeting in a village; there will be many young people there, have you any message for them?” She looked surprised at my question, and replied, “I do not know them; how can I have any message for them?”
“True,” I said; “but you are on the very verge of eternity, on the border land, within sight of the gates of glory; have you no word to send back to those that are young and careless?”
For a minute she fixed her eyes on me in silence, and then, deeply feeling the words she uttered, and which came with great power and solemnity, she replied, “Tell them to come to Jesus, and bid them come now, and warn them not to put it off till a death-bed, for it takes it all―” Here her strength and breath failed, and she could not finish the sentence.
I gathered her meaning, and responded, “By ‘It takes it all,’ I suppose you mean, that, when the death-bed is reached, the body is so racked with pain, and the mind so feeble, that the affairs of the soul, if not previously settled, are neglected then, as the body claims such attention.” She nodded her head in full assent, merely adding,
“Yes, bid them not put it off.”
I then said “Good-bye! I will take your message. We shall not meet down here perhaps any more, but we shall meet by-and-by, shall we not?”
Slowly she withdrew her emaciated hand from beneath the bed clothes, and, pointing with one finger upwards, softly replied― “Up yonder!”
They were her last intelligible words to me, I have never forgotten them, though years have rolled by since they fell upon my ear, and sure am I that “up yonder” I shall meet her.
And now, dear reader, permit me to ask, shall I meet you “up yonder”? Will you form one of the ransomed throng that will gather round the Lamb, and swell the chorus of redeeming love “up yonder”? I hear you say, I hope so. This will not do, it must be more than hope. With you hope means uncertainty. In Scripture it never does; there, it is the heart’s bright anticipation of things not seen as yet, but which it knows it possesses. The personal knowledge of Jesus alone can give this. Have you come to Him? If not―oh! I beseech you to give heed to the pointed word of warning above related. If unconverted, the enemy knows well how to whisper in your ear, “There’s time enough.” God’s saint replies, “Warn them not to put it off till a death-bed.”
Friend, this is a true witness, beware lest thou shouldest despise her testimony, and find at length that instead of being “up yonder,” as you vainly “hope,” your portion is in “outer darkness,” and your bed in hell forever. This is the inevitable issue, and final condition of all procrastinators. If you would be “up yonder” you must respond to the words, “Tell them to come to Jesus, and bid them come now.” Yes, now, even Now, while this paper is in your hand. Come, simply as you are, to Jesus. Your sins are no hindrance. For sins and sinners Jesus came―to purge away the former, to deliver and save the latter. If you come to Him by simple faith, He will not put you away, but He will give you to know, that, by His death and blood-shedding, He once and forever put your sins away from God’s sight, so that they can never rise again; and, further, that in His own death a foundation is laid in righteousness on which you can stand before God “clean every whit,” your heart also now possessing the blessed assurance that through His love, and finished work, you will shortly be with Himself “up yonder.”
W. T. P. W.