You should have seen the look which accompanied the above words, faintly whispered, fox. the poor body was almost worn out, and the battle for each breath had rendered the voice nearly inaudible; but there they were, distinct and emphatic, not a shadow of a doubt now.
It was in reply to a question, after repeating what one had often said to the now rapidly sinking — no, not sinking, but GOING up — one.
“Not a cloud above, not a spot within,
Christ died, then I AM clean!”
“Is it all bright, M—?”
“Bright, bright, bright,” was the Whispered answer.
On saying, “Farewell M —, God bless you,” not expecting to see him in the body again, though I knew I should meet him in glory, M — replied,
“He has blessed me and is blessing me!”
Do you want to know who the one was who said, “Bright, bright, bright,” my reader? Not to gratify curiosity, but looking up to God to bless it to some soul, as He alone can, also for a warning to others, and above all to show in some little measure the faithfulness of Him, Who in spite of the wayward. ness and naughtiness of His children, never leaves, never forsakes, and to exalt the riches of His grace — I will tell you a little.
M— had been in his youth a professor, a member of a church, as people say, but over whom the old enemy had been for a time permitted to have power, so as to drag him back into the world, and let him, as the prodigal, have a taste of the “far distant country,” and all its concomitants, the “husks,” the swine troughs, and all that.
When I was asked to visit him, he had been discharged from the service as being unfit through consumption to soldier any longer, and was evidently in the last stage of that fell disease.
Being an old soldier one’s self, one could talk to him of days gone by, the active service he had seen, the hardships gone through, the dangers delivered from, and we got on famously. But I found when one tried to touch upon the things of God and his soul’s salvation, there was a reticence and retreating into self, which to me was most painful, knowing I was dealing with a dying man. However one looked up, kept on visiting still the same, seeking to set before him THE important thing to one in such a state of health, for does not the word say, “Boast not thyself of TOMORROW” (Prov. 27:11Boast not thyself of to morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. (Proverbs 27:1)), and “Now is the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:22(For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succored thee: behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.) (2 Corinthians 6:2))? The world says, “Tomorrow never comes,” it is always “tomorrow.” The Devil loves “tomorrow,” and if he can only get you to put off from God’s “NOW” to his “TOMORROW,” which never comes, the salvation of your soul, he will be delighted. Don’t please him.
Well, one was driven, shall I say, to the believer’s remedy, refuge, resort, in his felt helplessness, to prayer, and prayer for this dear soul was asked for at a little meeting one attends, and where God has heard and answered prayer to him for individual souls — blessed be. His holy name, for His faithfulness— many a time.
M—got worse and worse, till now he was confined to bed, all hope of getting better given up, and a sense that eternity had to be faced, arrived.
Do you know what that is — every prop, every refuge, gone, and face to face with death P Is it not awful? All the brazen bravado of infidelity knocked out of you, all the unstable scaffold of human religion, forms, ceremonies, ordinances, kicked from under you, like when the bolt is drawn, and the “drop”, falls, and you “dance upon nothing,” as the world speaks of the hanged criminal. Do you know what this is, and death staring right into both eyes? It is very real, my friend.
It will be such, without Christ, not washed in His blood. Who will form that prayer meeting mentioned in the 6th chapter of the book of Revelation? Read it, and God grant you may never form one of that company, my reader.
Well, M — was now getting to the end of his earthly tether. One day I found him very miserable, (thank God! ah! yes, thank God, again and again) and he opened up a little. I do not wish to reveal the secrets of that sick-chamber, but only to show, as I said at first, the grace and faithfulness of my God and Father.
Bit by bit it came out, a backslider, who had found the service of Satan and the world hard. The Holy Spirit was doing His blessed work, “convincing of sin,” ploughing up the conscience, but not leaving him there. In His rich mercy, the loving Father he had strayed from, BUT WHO HAD NEVER LEFT HIM, no, NEVER! was paving the way to RESTORE the joy of His salvation. David never asked to have salvation restored — he knew better than that — but the “JOY” of it. And gradually the light came into his soul, till he was again rejoicing in Jesus as his Saviour, and the Holy God as his Father.
The means used I need not speak of. Of course they were the truths of the word, about the faithfulness of God, the work of Jesus, and the witness of the Holy Ghost.
One interview, nearly the last, I shall never forget He was very communicative, humbly, not boastfully so; very, very different to when we first met. One could not but be melted, and worship Him Who is true to the work of His Christ, and His own word.
But what M — must have gone through in his exercised state, anguish and remorse filling his soul, no one can tell, till suicide in all sorts of shapes presented itself to his tortured mind, even to visiting the sergeant instructor of the local corps of volunteers, where he knew rifles and cartridges were stored, hoping that an opportunity might occur when his brother non-commissioned officer’s back was turned to secure both rifle and ammunition, and shoot himself. This was prevented; then he got up, dressed, and got ready, even to his hat, gloves, and stick (his own words), intending to walk out and throw himself under a train, at a station very near his house; but when he got up he was too weak to walk, and had to return to bed again, Which he never after left.
“God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform,”
wrote one, who himself had entered a hackney coach of those days, and ordered to be driven to London Bridge, intending to throw himself into the Thames; but the coachman happened to be too drank to understand his orders, and drove about, round and round, for some two hours, till the fit of self-destruction having worn off, he found himself at the same spot he entered the coach. He got out, returned home, thanked God for His mercy, and wrote the well-known hymn.
Yes, God does work in a mysterious way, and what He performs is always wondrous, as M — learned.
Oh! reader, it is His faithfulness, not mine, or thine. What a mercy!
I asked M — what sort of a night he had had, as to sleep?
“A bad one; awake nearly the whole of it.” But as he lay he seems to have had a wonderful time of thought which he named to me. He said to Satan, “Ah! Satan, you all but had me,” — “ALL BUT,” — and it was these two words I had nearly put at the head of this little article. Yes, “ALL BUT,” but not quite; then he turned towards me, and said,
“You know, sir, how they mark and call the score at a game of bowls, and I thought the Devil and I were going to have a game. I fancied someone rushed into the alley just before we began, and shouted, ‘How’s the game?’ ‘Love all,’ said the marker. Then we set to work, the devil began to score, and soon the marker cried, ‘One leg off,’ that is when ten is scored. Ah! I thought, he has badly wounded me, ‘One leg off!’ On again. And presently the cry was, ‘Look sharp!’ this when eighteen had been made, twenty-one being the game. Soon after the marker shouted, ‘ALL BUT.’ Satan had scored twenty. Only one ace more, but he didn’t beat after all; he ‘all but’ had me, but not quite.”
“No,” I replied, much moved, “Jesus was stronger than Satan, dear M —, and came in and delivered you! What a mercy. ‘Hallelujah, what a Saviour!’”
A great deal more was said, for strength was given him for all that, but enough.
It was at my next and last but one visit that he whispered, “Bright, bright, bright.” Ah! and he looked it too; no more averted face, no more reticence, no putting off the truth, “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh” (Matt. 12:3434O generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. (Matthew 12:34)).
At one’s last visit one could but commend him and his to the tender care of Him who is the God of the widow and Father of the fatherless, being too weak to speak, and that Christ who had loved him and given Himself for him. And I just said, “Well M—, I am thankful we have been permitted to meet down here, and we shall again above.” Such a look, such a smile, and a nod of assent.
Well, my reader, what say you? Is it bright, bright, bright, or, black, black, black? Which?
If the last, own it; take the place where that which makes bright can reach you, down in the dust; own it, for that is where salvation, mercy, cleansing, pardon, reaches one. The “mire,” the “dunghill” (1 Sam. 2:88He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make them inherit the throne of glory: for the pillars of the earth are the Lord's, and he hath set the world upon them. (1 Samuel 2:8)), from which He lifteth one, and up to the “throne of glory.” No half way house either. He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set him among princes; from the black, black, black, of nature’s darkness, to the light of the glory. May you learn this, and this very day; then with M—you will say, “Bright, bright, bright.”
How bright, there above, is the mercy of God —
And void of all guilt and clear of all sin,
Is my conscience and heart, through my Saviour’s blood;
Not a cloud above, not a spot within.
Christ died! then I am clean,
Not a spot within;
God’s mercy and love,
Not a spot above.
“Tis the Spirit, through faith, thus triumphs over sin
Not a cloud above, not a spot within!
S. V. H.