THE soldier lay on his death-bed in the military hospital, and bore his pain with the unflinching fortitude that comes of long drill in obedience to order and control over feelings. Days came in, gray and cheerless, after nights of alternate sleep and suffering. The hours passed heavily, though he seemed to heed not their length. No gentle hand of relative or friend smoothed his pillow. No kindly word assured him of loving thought or sympathy. The well-formed face lacked the brightness that tells of inward joy; for Corporal Stuart, though of fine appearance and noble outward bearing, had been worldly and reckless. Disease had stealthily asserted its hold, and his ill-regulated life hastened its course, until it became too powerful for him to fight against and laid him low.
It was during one of those weary afternoons that a Christian lady passed near his bed, on her way to carry flowers to a soldier in whom she was interested. Stuart’s cold and defiant look and flashing eye caught her attention and called out her compassion. He looked so friendless and so lone, she could not pass him again without a word of cheer. With patient tact she drew from him in few words the statements of his hopeless illness, and then she spoke of comfort even in suffering.
“Comfort, indeed! I can find none, lady,” he said; “they put me right, as they call it, for a few minutes, and then I long to be moved again; they give me a drink or food, and I crave for something I can’t get―no! there’s no comfort―none!”
Burning to tell him of real satisfaction, she spoke of the woman at Sychar’s well, and repeated Christ’s words to her, in John 4:13,13Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: (John 4:13) “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again,” and told him he was right, for there was no lasting comfort in this world’s supplies. “I wouldn’t care if only I was well and strong; a soldier ought to have no feelings,” he said impatiently. “And now I see why God has laid you here—to show you where you may find that which satisfies, and to tell you that you ought to have feelings which are good and tender and holy,” she answered.
“You mean it kindly, but it’s all over with me now. I held out as long as I could, and now there’s no life left in me worth anything.” And he clenched his hand to hide a spasm of pain.
And then she repeated the other verse (14), “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” “It will never be ‘all over with you’ if you possess that ‘everlasting life.’ Oh, soldier, stranger to me though you are, will you not believe it, and ask of Him―Jesus Christ―the great Saviour of sinners? It is His gift, and He will freely give you the soul-satisfying water―everlasting life.” He took the offered hand, and gave a thankful look into the kindly face, and said, “You remind me of my sister who died. I think she would have understood what you say; they used to call her a Christian.”
Darkness was over the building; the noise of music in the barrack yard was silenced. That servant of Christ had left her Lord’s own words with a heart that all unconsciously was thirsting for life and grace and peace, and away in her home she prayed for the soldier lying helpless and lonely and dying. He slept a feverish sleep, he tossed from side to side, but no rest; no water could quench his thirst, no medicine ease his aching heart, no look of doctor or nurse give assurance or comfort. Towards the return of day a chill came over him, a sinking of despair; and the obstinately quiet man seemed forced to speak as the attendant came to his side, noticing how ill he was.
“Will that lady come here again to see that lad?” he asked. “I cannot tell. Why do you want to know?” he answered. “Because I wish to see her. If she comes in, just ask her to come over here.” She did go, and needed no asking; it was to him, she knew, she had been sent. She saw how weak he was, scarcely able to remember her words, and she thought it better to repeat only Christ’s own words, and pray that He would glorify Himself and save that soul. Bending near the dying man, she said slowly, “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” All was quiet, and she thought perhaps he had not heard, till he looked up with eager gaze and whispered quickly: “Go on―it begins to help me; say it all again.” Three times she spoke those glorious words, and then said, “None but Jesus can do helpless sinners good. Lord Jesus, save―oh, save this soul!” and she saw his trembling lips move as if in prayer. She felt his thankful clasp of her hand as she said, “Good-bye,” and in his eyes she thought she saw a ray of hope and trust.
Another night came on, and Stuart startled the comrade who went to give him some water by saying: “Did you hear it, lad? Hark! that distant chime.” “No, no; ‘tis midnight, mate,” he said, “and you are bad; lie still.” “Eh, but I can hear. Listen! There― ‘the water that I shall give him’ ―you hear that, don’t you?” “You’re dreaming, man; there’s nothing I can hear,” and he was leaving his side when, with another effort, Stuart said: “Oh, lad, I know―I see it now; she said it was His gift.” And sinking back exhausted, his face lighted up with a smile, and putting up his finger he said faintly, “Can’t you hear it now? It’s sounding on so sweetly. ‘The water that I shall give―everlasting―life―’” “His head fell back as he uttered the last word once more with firmer tone― “life.” But in that ward they called him “dead,” for none there could understand how Jesus gives “everlasting life.”
S. HARVEY-JELLIE