HAVE you ever been to Chester? To my mind the most interesting place in England —as Edinburgh, my second birthplace, is in Scotland, and Londonderry, celebrated for the brave defense of the maiden city by the “‘prentice boys” against the Roman Catholic army of James II, aided by French generals and mercenaries, is in Ireland.
I well remember my first visit to Chester, over fifty years ago, being on my way from the West of England to join the depot of my regiment, then in Ireland, the regiment itself engaged in the Kaffir War of 1850-53. I had to break my journey there so as to catch the “Wild Irishman,” as the fast train to Holyhead was nicknamed. Getting up early next morning to look over the charming old city, on walking round the walls, which are perfect, one comes to the place where a Roman bath was, then the tower from whence Charles I. witnessed the defeat of the Cavaliers on Rowton Moor: farther on, the “Roodee” or racecourse, well known to sporting men, and on to where the walls just rise out of the River Dee, where you can see fishermen casting their lines and nets to catch salmon: then the barracks, when I saw the situation of which, overlooking the racecourse from the parade ground and from the windows of the officers’ quarters, “Oh” thought I to myself, “how I hope that when it comes home the regiment will be quartered here! What a jolly station: what a pretty place! Salmon fishing and the Roodee close by.”
Exactly twenty years elapsed before I again visited this “jolly station” —had had a taste of Kaffirland, on to India during latter part of the Mutiny, experiencing God’s providential care on land and sea, besides and above it all, converted. It was to preach the Gospel, not catch salmon, nor be one of the throng on the Roodee on the “Chester Cup” day. What an honor to be permitted to tell out the good news of God’s grace, God’s love to sinners like myself, and what the precious blood of His dear Son has done for such, clearing the throne of God, and enabling Him, having been just in dealing with that Son, to justify all who believe in Him.
Reader, do you know what this means? God being the Justifier of him that believeth in Jesus (Romans 3:26). God Himself so perfectly satisfied with what Jesus has done that He clears you of all that was against you. He DOES it, loves to do it, and does it righteously, because Jesus died. You, who, when the light of the Holy Spirit shone into your soul and showed you what a guilty sinner you were, could say,
“My sins deserve eternal death,
BUT Jesus died for me.”
You will say I have got away from Chester and its racecourse. Well, let us get back then to the “Roodee” and watch the crowds dispersing after the last race had been run, hurrying to catch trains going in all directions, some immensely gloomy, having lost their all: others, a few only, chuckling over their wins, little thinking or caring what their gain means to the many losers. Now and then some look up, and are startled at what they see on a large board, some cursing, some sneering. At last one is arrested and, more, conscience aroused, for on this large board I speak of was inscribed in big letters, “THE RACE IS RUN—YOU’VE LOST YOUR MONEY—PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD.” There was no rest for that soul. He knew he had to meet God, and so have you, my reader: for He says, “So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God” (Rom. 14:12), and was not fit: are you? The arrow of conviction rankled and rankled until through mercy peace came to his soul through God-given faith in the word about the cleansing power of the precious blond of Jesus.
My old regiment has never been quartered at Chester from that day to this. Now it is at the front in South Africa, where it suffered severely at Magersfontein: one of the killed—Bob Wilson, the feather bonnet maker—we saw something very touching and interesting about in “THE SPRINGING WELL” for July last year. Another time this passage from the prophet Amos 4:12 was brought before me. In the early sixties, being stationed at Chichester, one evening during mess a brother officer, perhaps to have a slap good-naturedly at me —he had been on Court Martial duty to Portsmouth, and recently there had been several serious railway accidents between the two places—exclaimed: “What a horrid shame—for what do you think— as the train slowed into Portsmouth some fellow had stuck a big board out of a window with ‘Prepare to meet thy God’ on it—enough to frighten a fellow out of his life. What a horrid shame!”
Ah! dear P, I wish that it had really frightened you so, that, like the one on Chester racecourse, you had turned to Christ and been saved, but it was not so. Now, my reader, that same text I would repeat to you, “Prepare to meet THY God,” and may it have the effect on you as it had on dear S, who is rejoicing in Christ as his own personal, present Saviour: and so may you, for “God is beseeching you to be reconciled” (2 Cor. 5:20).
“Prepare to meet thy God!” Yet the preparation is not that of seeking to fit ourselves for God.
“All the fitness He requireth,
Is to feel your need of Him.”
S. V. H.