WE lingered so long over Judson's school days in our last chapter that we seemed to know him quite well as a bright, clever boy, a great favorite with his masters as well as a leader in the playground. But school-days, we all know, cannot last more than a few years, and are in themselves a preparation for the real work of our lives, and Judson often asked himself, "What shall I be when I am grown up?" Naturally ambitious, he wished to be well known and much talked about. Sometimes he thought he would go to sea and discover new countries, as Columbus and others had done. But he was not quite sure he should like the life of a sailor. Perhaps he would study law and become one day a great lawyer. Or he might write books that would be read by hundreds of people. Sometimes he thought he should become a famous preacher. It must be very pleasant, the boy thought, to have crowds listening to his words. But this "could never be," he would say sadly to himself, for he knew he had not really come to Jesus, so how could he tell others about One whom he did not really and truly know as his own precious Savior? Besides, he was sure the Lord would not care for work that did not spring from love to Himself; and though he could say quite a number of psalms and chapters by heart, and knew nearly all the Bible histories deep down in his heart, the boy felt that there were stories in his school-books of brave men and their mighty deeds that seemed to him far more interesting than the gospel narrative of the life and death of the meek and lowly Savior, the suffering Son of God.
But if he knew himself to be unsaved, unforgiven, unsheltered by the precious blood of Christ, could he be content to remain where he was? Content to go on with his lessons, or his day-dreams of future fame and greatness, while he turned a deaf ear to the voice of a loving Savior?
Did not Adoniram Judson even wish to become a Christian? Yes, I am sure he did, at least sometimes. One winter he was very ill, so ill that the doctor hardly thought his recovery possible. Learning his danger from the tears his loving, patient mother could not always hide, he became much alarmed. "What if he were going to die and have to meet God!" The thought made him very unhappy. But when the danger was passed he again grew careless about the things of eternity, and the return of spring found him more than ever absorbed with his studies.
But some boy or girl may ask, "Was it wrong for a youth to take pains with his lessons and do his best not only to win but keep a good place in his classes?" Oh, no; the wrong was not, could never be, in doing thorough painstaking work. The wrong was in that he had not come as a lost sinner to Jesus. Like the young man of whom we read in the gospels, "One thing thou lackest" (Mark 10:2121Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me. (Mark 10:21)), might have been said of Adoniram at the time of which I am now writing.
When sixteen years of age he entered Providence College, engaging in several new studies. The much coveted title of "first man of his year" was bestowed at the close of a stiff examination upon the student who gained the highest number of marks in every subject.
Judson made up his mind to carry off this honor. He worked hard for it and succeeded, though most of his class mates were much older than himself. Late at night, after what must have been a very trying day, he wrote home:
“Dear Father,—I have got it.
"Your affectionate son, A. J.”
One of Judson's college friends, a young man five or six years older than himself, was possessed not only of remarkable talents, but of such a bright, lively disposition that it seemed hardly possible to help liking him. Judson first admired, then loved him, and though I think the son of godly parents must have been shocked and grieved when he found that his chosen companion, his trusted friend, was one who did not believe the Bible was true, he began to wonder if one who knew so many things could be mistaken as to this, and allowed himself to be dragged into the troubled waters of unbelief. Both had a desire to write plays. When their term at college ended, they wished each other good-bye with mutual promises of a life-long friendship.
Judson was about to leave college and decide on his profession, but before doing so his father wished him to visit New York, Albany and other places of interest in the Northern States. On reaching Albany, he found everybody talking about a new steamboat, the "Robert Fulton," which had been launched only a few days before. On the second trip of the boat to New York he was one of the passengers and enjoyed the trip very much.
One evening, while staying in New York, he went to the theater, and next morning sought and obtained an engagement in a company of actors, thinking he would be able to learn many things he should find useful to know when he began to write plays. But a week of an actor's life was quite enough for him and he gave it up in disgust, perhaps wondering very much why he felt so tired and sick at heart of all the gay scenes around him.
Could it be otherwise? Words that fell long years ago from the lips of the Lord Jesus, "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again" (John 4:1313Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: (John 4:13)), might truly be written over every earthly pleasure. None but Christ can really fill and satisfy the heart. In patient grace He was seeking the wanderer, saying to him, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)), and the time when there should be joy in the home of his childhood over his conversion, joy, too, in the presence of the angels of God (Luke 15:1010Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. (Luke 15:10)) drew very near.
I told you of his college friend, how and when they parted; were they ever to meet again? You shall hear.
On his way home, Judson wished to visit an uncle whom he had not seen for several years. Finding him from home on his arrival, he accepted a cordial invitation to stay all night, and was introduced to a young man, who, having found the Lord Jesus precious to his own soul, loved to speak of Him to others.
There was something so kind and pleasant in the manner and words of the stranger that Judson could not help liking him, and the young men talked together far into the night. We can only guess at what passed between them, but we may be sure that Judson was lovingly urged by his new friend to accept the gift of God, "eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom. 6:2323For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. (Romans 6:23).) Still, when the time came for him to say "Good-bye," he was, he tells us, though much softened, not fully decided to be a Christian. "Almost persuaded.”
The night following he was to sleep at a wayside inn. "I am very sorry, sir," the landlord said as he sheaved him to his room, "very sorry indeed, but I shall have to put you next door to a man who is very ill, I fear dying. The doctor says he can't be moved, and we have no other spare room.”
Judson turned cold and trembled all over. He would much rather not have been in such close quarters to the dying. But it was getting late, and there was no other inn in the place, so saying he was only sorry for the sufferer and did not mind for himself at all, he wished the landlord good night and went to bed, but not to sleep, for only a thin wooden wall parted the two rooms, and he could not help hearing the moans of the poor young man.
He could hear, too, the whispers of those who watched by the dying bed, and the thought of the eternity into which the stranger was about to enter would not be dismissed. "Was he ready? Did he know where he was going? Were his sins forgiven?" were questions he asked himself over and over again. Then he wondered if any one was in the room who would tell him, of Christ and His salvation, who would speak to him about his soul as his own godly father or gentle mother would have done.
Once or twice he half rose from his bed as if about to go himself. But how could he tell another of a Savior whom he did not know for himself? How should he speak of salvation while he was unsaved?
His first question on going to breakfast was, "How is my sick neighbor?" "Dead, sir," was the answer. Judson could only repeat the word "Dead," and the landlord continued, "Yes, sir. It's quite true, the doctor told us last night he could not live many hours. I am very sorry, for he was a fine young fellow. His name was E—n. I believe he was a student at Providence College.”
Judson reeled and would have fallen had not the landlord prevented his doing so by placing him in a chair. The name was that of the friend to whom he had given such devoted love, and he had died in all the bright promise of early manhood. Died, too, Judson feared, without Christ, and so without hope. For to die without Christ is to spend eternity without Christ.
"The Bible is true, I know it, and I am a lost sinner," Judson said over and over to himself as he continued his journey. He reached his father's house a day or two later. Six weeks after he wrote to a friend, “From the moment I simply believed in Jesus I have never had a doubt. I am as sure that I am a new creature as I am that I am alive.”