“AS thy days, so shall thy strength be,” remarked a hardworking mother one day to one who had called upon her in connection with the concerns of the world to come.
“Yes, that is true, blessedly true, for Christ,” said her visitor; “but there is another question which must be faced before such a promise can be really enjoyed―I mean the question of your sins.” For up to this point he had not known that she had already found peace through “the precious blood of Christ.”
“Oh yes, I know that well; nor shall I easily forget what I was brought through before that matter was settled!”
“Do tell me, then, how it was brought about.”
“Well, it so happened that the housemaid at the establishment where I served as kitchen maid became, for some unaccountable reason, exceedingly miserable. Everybody in the house was making remarks about her; some of them suggesting that she would soon be in a lunatic asylum. Wherefore I never knew, but this unhappy girl seemed to have a sort; of clinging attachment to me. One day I said to her in an upbraiding tone, ‘Elizabeth, what can be the matter with you? You will be out of your mind next!’ She looked earnestly into my face, and sadly answered, ‘I’M GOING TO HELL’
“‘I need not have asked you that question,’ thought I, ‘for I’m going there too; there is only this difference between us, You are troubled about it, and I am not!’
“From that moment my own exercises began. I became very miserable about the past, but was determined to lead a different life and seek salvation. But what could I do? Well, I could pray. But there was a difficulty in connection with this. I knew that if the servants who occupied the same room saw me praying they would certainly laugh at me. So I was determined to pray when they were fast asleep, and would accordingly lie awake and watch my opportunity. When I thought they were soundly asleep I crept out of bed and knelt down to seek the longed-for blessing. But when I got on my knees I was only the more dreadfully oppressed. The most horrible, blasphemous thoughts―thoughts which almost seemed to be hissed through my lips in spite of myself―were suggested to me. When I got into bed again the thought seemed to be suggested, ‘Do you think God is going to hear a prayer like that from a sinner like you?’
“Then I would steal out again and try to make a prayer which He would listen to. But my misery only deepened. At last, one day, another thought struck me: ‘There is my brother Charlie’s Bible in my box upstairs. Perhaps if I got that out and read it I might get the happiness I wanted.’
“This Bible,” explained the woman, “had been specially prized by me, not so much because of the book itself, as that it was my poor brother’s. It was in his kit, and sank with him when his ship, a man-of-war named the Eurydice, went down a few years since off the Isle of Wight. The vessel was just returning from foreign service, and all on board were anxious―alas! too anxious―to arrive in time to spend the end of the old year among their friends in England.
“I fetched Charlie’s Bible out of my box, all discolored by the salt water as it was, and, as my work lay chiefly in the kitchen, I put it in the kitchen drawer. But when could I read it? I had prayed in the dark, but could not read in the dark. How then? Well, the table-drawer was not far from the water-tap, so while waiting to fill a bucket I could occasionally draw out the book and read a few words without anyone noticing it. But even this seemed all to no purpose. Deeper and deeper into the most intense misery I seemed to be daily sinking, when one day a new thought was suggested. It was something like this: ‘You were not in this wretched state before you commenced to pray and read that book! You’ll lose your reason next! Just stop in time. Put that book into the fire, and have done with your misery.’ Acting on the suggestion, I took it out of the drawer, and had actually got it between the bars of the kitchen grate when the remembrance that it was once my poor brother’s made me pause and consider. Whatever would my brother Charlie think if he knew that I burned his Bible I Now came a flood of anguish more intense than ever. To think that I was even bad enough to burn the Holy Scriptures! For it seemed, had not the remembrance of my brother stopped me, as if I certainly should have done it.
“Darkness and distress seemed almost to overwhelm me after this. There seemed to be no comfort for me anyhow. At last it came into my mind that I had once heard that a Christian lady on a certain night had a Bible-class for young women, and that a servant whom I knew attended it. I would inquire of this girl if I should be allowed to go. The end of it was that she took me with her next time she went.
“We were a little late, and they were singing a hymn as we entered the passage leading to the kitchen where the meeting was held. We remained in the passage until they finished singing. As I stood there I heard the following words:
“‘Jesus paid it ALL,
All to HIM I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.’
“As I listened to the welcome news―
“the cloud lifted, the burden was gone, and, even before I actually got into the meeting, joy and peace in believing had filled my soul.”
Now, dear reader, this is, as nearly as I can recollect her words, the story of her conversion. Has anyone on earth yet heard the story of yours? Nay; have they ever heard of it in heaven? Or are you still seeking your joys in a world that has cast out Christ? Let me whisper one little word in your ear. That joy of yours is as certain to end with sorrow as you are reading this paper; either the sorrow of repentance now, or the sorrow of the second death hereafter. While you are seeking happiness away from God you will not have Satan’s opposition, but the moment Satan sees that you are troubled about your sins he will either try all in his power to send you to sleep, or failing in that, bring all his artillery against you. Don’t think that he will lose you without a struggle. But, thank God, when grace works in the soul, and the eyes are once opened upon eternal things, all his efforts are utterly useless. May God open your eyes, my reader!
Should this fall into the hands of an honest seeker after peace, let me remind him that the only thing which can effectually meet the cravings of a divinely-awakened conscience is that which has eternally met the claims of God’s righteousness as to sin. Nothing can do this but “the precious blood of Christ.”
Now if you believe that Jesus has paid it all―paid sin’s full penalty―then are you bound to admit that four things are due to Him, even while you still remain on earth―
1. IT IS DUE TO CHRIST that you should be forgiven.
“If He has my discharge procured,
And freely in my place endured
The whole of wrath divine;
Payment God will not twice demand,
First at my bleeding Surety’s hand,
And then again at mine.”
4. IT IS DUE TO CHRIST that with heart and voice you should praise Him for the victory He has wrought for you at such a cost. He feels it when He does not get His kindness acknowledged. “Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine?” (Luke 17:1717And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? (Luke 17:17).)
One word for any unbelieving reader. If you refuse to give Him His dues by turning to Him, by trusting Him, by confessing Him now, be assured that the day of judgment will find you receiving, in righteous measure, your full dues. And the end may be nearer than you think.
Indeed, death has rested upon you from the beginning of your history, and will unceremoniously push you out of this world in the end. You may have been seeking ambitious things, but you have been under the condemnation of death all the time.
Thank God, some of us, though once in your sad position, have found a new source of life― “life in Christ Jesus,” life in Him who has, for the believer, exhausted sin’s judgment, who has risen above it, and lives to God forever beyond it.
All this has been brought to light by the gospel.
What, then, must his end be who refuses to obey such a gospel? For anything he knows, while his friend is jauntily wishing him “a happy new year,” death may be preparing to push him into the darkness of a lost eternity.
Reader, how do you feel in view of such an appalling possibility? Ask yourself just one brief question, and pause till you get a satisfactory answer: WHAT IS MY SOUL WORTH TO ME?