NATHANIEL WILSON was the son of poor but respectable parents, residing at M—. Being
an only child, he was indulged in everything it was possible for his parents to obtain, and in consequence he grew up wayward and unruly. As he grew older he obtained employment with a number of young men, who by degrees persuaded him to join them in their evil ways.
At first it was but occasionally he would accompany them on a Sunday excursion to L—, or a Sunday would be spent on the water; but gradually this way of spending Sunday became habitual, and nothing but very unfavorable weather would keep him at home. In vain did his father remonstrate with him on his evil ways, and his mother plead with him to give up his evil companions and accompany her to a place of worship. He told them he could only be young once, and he meant to enjoy himself while he could. In order to obtain more liberty, as he said, he left home with several companions, and obtained employment in a distant town, where he threw off all restraint and grew bolder in sin.
In reply to his mother, who sent him a Bible and urged him to read it, he said: “The Bible is all very well for old people who can no longer enjoy life, and for those who are going to die; but I am well and strong, and don't need it now. I mean to be religious some time before I die; but there is plenty of time yet, and I mean to get all the pleasure I can out of life while I am young. I will be very religious some day, but not now.”
Time passed on, and Nat went farther and farther on in the broad road that leads to destruction; his evenings were chiefly spent at the public-house, or at other so-called places of amusement. One evening one of his chosen companions told him of an infidel lecture that was to be given close by, and asked Nat to go with him to hear it, just to see what skeptics had to say. At first he refused, for although he had often wished the Bible were not true, as passages he had learned when a child came into his mind and condemned his course of life, yet he recoiled with horror from the thought of being present at such a meeting; but after some time the persuasions of his friend were successful, and he agreed to go, saying that if they found it very bad he could come out. The infidel lecturer was an educated man, and noted for his eloquence, and Nat and his companion listened eagerly to his lecture, and drank in the poison it contained. Again and again they went, and in a short tittle Nat became a confirmed infidel.
Soon after this he removed to C—, where I saw him, and about the same time he became a complete drunkard. He went on in this way for more than six years, when the Lord in His great mercy met with him, and drew him unto Him self.
Nat had the greatest contempt and hatred for anyone whom he called "religious," and a minister was his special abhorrence. Therefore when his wife wished to see Mr. F—, Nat swore an awful oath that no canting parson, or any religious man or woman either, should ever darken his door; and to insure against their coming while he was out, he always locked his door. He told me after his conversion he would not have let me into his cottage, but he could not understand why I should take the trouble to come so far in the snow to take jelly to a sick person I had never seen, and further he thought it might cheer his Dorothy up a little to see a stranger.
At first when I read to Mrs. Wilson he went out, but after a little time he began to stay in, and would busy himself about something at the other end of the room; but in a short time I could see his work lay untouched for half-an-hour at a time, and his whole attention was absorbed by the gracious words of love and mercy from God's own word; then, as if recollecting himself, and afraid he would be detected listening, he would again busy himself with his work, though several times I saw a tear falling down his dark cheek. He never spoke to me unless in answer to a question, until one day, after I had taken leave of Dorothy and was just starting for home, he said, "May I ask if you really believe all that you have been reading to Dorothy, or do you only read it to cheer her up a little?”
“Mr. Wilson," I replied, "I would not deceive anyone for the sake of cheering them, least of all one who must so soon leave this world for another. I have been reading God's own words, which never will deceive one soul that rests upon them.”
"But the Bible is not the word of God," said he.
“Then will you tell me whose word it is?" I asked.
“Oh, man's, of course!" he replied.
“But was it a good man or a bad one wrote it?" I asked.
“Oh, a bad one," he answered.
“Mr. Wilson," I replied, "depend upon it, if a bad man had written the Bible, he would never have condemned sin, and pronounced such an awful sentence on those who do sin as the Bible contains; neither could a good man have written so many falsehoods as the Bible contains, if it is not what it professes to be—the word of God.”
“I really believe you are right," he said. "I never looked at it in that light before.”
“But will you read it yourself?" I asked. "Have you a Bible?”
“Yes; I have the one which my mother sent me. It has laid in my box for many long years, but I will promise to read it—yes, that I will.”
After this he seemed to shun me, and I had no means of knowing whether he had kept his promise or not until after the death of his wife; then, as we stood together beside the body of the one we had both loved. I said, "Mr. Wilson, she has gone to be forever in the bright world above, with the One whom not having seen she loved, never to feel pain, or sorrow, or death again, but to enjoy the cloudless joy and blessedness of the Father's house. She can never return to you, but will you go to her?”
“Never, never," he exclaimed. "I shall never see her more; there is no place for infidels where she is gone.”
“There is room for all there," I replied, "who will take the place of lost sinners as she did, and who are saved by Jesus as she was.”
"Lost! lost!" he exclaimed despairingly; "don't I know I am lost? Can hell itself be worse than what I am enduring at this moment? Oh, I know it is memory that is the worm that dieth not, and it is here already." Clasping his hands upon his chest as he spoke, he went on, "Yes, it is memory, I am sure. You don't know what I've been, or you would not be seen near me-you would loathe me, but not more than I loathe myself. I broke my mother's heart, and she died of grief. I've never been into a place of worship since I was fourteen years old. I've been a drunkard, and I have laughed at the Bible, and hated the very name of God, and I know I shall have to appear in His presence and give an account to Him; He will be my judge, and I have blasphemed His name. Yes, I know I am a lost man as I walk about. It is no use. I wish I had not read the Bible; I should not have known then till I died, but now I have no rest day or night.”
“It is true, Mr. Wilson," I said, "that you are lost, but still you may escape the punishment of your sin, for another has been punished instead. Listen!" and I read, "'He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed.'”
“Yes, yes," he replied, "but it is not for me. Every page of the Bible condemns me.”
“Yes, this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light. Jesus says, 'He that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed on the name of the only begotten Son of God' (John 3:1818He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. (John 3:18)).”
“I am condemned every way," he said mournfully; "I must go to hell, there is nothing else for me. There never was such a great sinner before. I have had so many opportunities, and only thrown them away; there is no hope for me.”
“Mr. Wilson, will you promise to read the first chapter of the first epistle to Timothy, to-night, from the thirteenth to seventeenth verses? You will read of one who was a blasphemer, and the chief of sinners, who, yet obtained mercy." He promised to do so, and I left him.
The next week I saw him daily, but he did not get any hope; he seemed like the man Bunyan wrote of, who was shut up in the iron cage of despair. His agony of mind was such as to make him afraid to sleep, lest he should awake in hell. At times I feared his reason would give way beneath it. I tried in vain to persuade him to go to the preaching, or to see a Christian man who had been an infidel; he always refused, and his anguish of soul seemed to increase, yet he diligently searched the word, though it only condemned him, he said. One day when I went to see him, and he had poured out his usual tale of despair, I said, "Mr. Wilson, do you think Jesus could love you?”
“Yes," he replied, "He is almighty. He could but He never will.”
“Do you know," I asked, "that you are now committing the greatest sin of your whole life?"
"No! How can that be?”
“Because you are making God a liar, for the Lord Jesus says, 'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out,' and you say He will not receive YOU; therefore you are making God a liar, for He Himself says so; see John 5:99And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the sabbath. (John 5:9) to 13.”
“God forgive me!" he exclaimed. "I did not know that. What shall I do? what shall I do?
“You can do nothing," I replied, "for the simple reason there is nothing to be done. Jesus HAS DONE EVERYTHING; when He died on the cross He completely glorified God about sin. He bore all God's wrath that you might never bear it, and the only thing you as a poor sinner have to do to be saved is to rest on the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ—to cast yourself entirely on Him—to accept Him as your own Savior for time and eternity; and God Himself declares 'He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.'”
“But must I not pray for it?" he asked.
“Does it say, 'He that believeth and prayeth hath everlasting life'? If I had in my hand something you wished very much to have, and I told you it was for you, would you ask me over and over again to give it you?”
"No; I should take it and thank you for it," he answered.
“That is what God is doing. He offers you Jesus, salvation, eternal life—everything yet can possibly need in Jesus; it is His free gift.”
“Oh, but I've been such a great sinner," he said.
I turned to Luke 7:4141There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. (Luke 7:41), and read to the 43rd verse. "You see," I said, "there was a great difference in the amount owed by these two debtors; but did the creditor make any difference between them?”
“None," he answered, “for he frankly forgave them both. I see how it is; I see, I see. Dorothy owed only fifty pence, and I the five hundred; but He will not cast me out—He says so, and I cannot doubt Him. I have nothing to pay, nothing at all; I can bring nothing to Him but sin, but, 'He frankly forgave them both,' I see! I see! The vastness of the want of my soul is perfectly met by the infinite vastness of the means appointed by God to supply it. The death of the Son of God is alone sufficient to blot out my sins, aggravated and innumerable. The righteousness of the Son of God alone is so spotless as to answer the demands of the perfect law of God; Christ has wrought the work alone. For man, for all men, for whosoever will. My soul forgets all but its Almighty Savior, and its own safety; and now I can say, My Lord, my Savior, my all.”
The change in Nat Wilson was indeed life from the dead. He became as bold in the Lord's cause as before he had been in the service of Satan. To his old companions he told what the Lord had done for him; nor did he fear their scorn and contempt, and they did not spare it. When they laughed at him he said, "You may laugh yourselves into hell, but you cannot laugh yourselves out again." Then he would urge them to come to Jesus, and say, "I'll pledge my word He will receive you, for you cannot be so bad as I was, and He received me just as I was; and so He will you if you will only come to Him. It will give Him joy, and I am certain it will bring joy to you. Why, friends, there's no real happiness out of Christ. I've tried the world, but it can never satisfy the cravings of an immortal spirit; it will only last a very short time, and then it leaves you more unsatisfied than before. Such are the world's, pleasures, the pleasures of sin, which are indeed but for a season, and presently they will (unless you repent and turn in faith to Jesus) land you in the lake of fire.”
Nat remained in C—long enough to prove to those who had known him before that he was indeed a new creature in Christ Jesus. He loved the society of Christians, and listened with delight to their conversation; the Bible was his constant companion—his much-loved guide. His master, however, went to America and took Nat with him, and out in the bush he is now seeking to lead those with whom he comes in contact to that Savior who loves him and has frankly forgiven him, and is soon coming to take him to be forever with Himself
Reader, when will you come to the Lord?
A. V. M.