MISS E―had been a bright, clever woman, and had made a fortune in business, out of which she gave large sums to charities, hoping thus to merit the favor of God, Now, at ninety years of age, she was without Him and had no hope. I was grieved to hear her sad expressions, as I ministered to her bodily needs, and told her, with tears, of that world where nothing that defileth can ever enter.
“Do you think I care?” she laughed. “I am not afraid of God like you.” But she was arrested, and soon absorbed in thought. She was a Roman Catholic, and asked to see a priest. I pointed her to the blessed Lord, the once Crucified One, now risen and ascended, whose ear is ever open to the sinner’s cry.
When she thought she was alone I heard her say, “What shall I do? Oh, what can I do?” Again I spoke to her very simply of the Lord Jesus, and His perfect finished work. “Let me alone,” she cried, “the fire and torment are inside me.”
Feeling my utter weakness, I could only look away to the Lord to bless this poor aged one with the knowledge of His most wonderful love. He led me to deal very gently with her, and whilst attending to her I sang in a quiet tone―
“None but Jesus, none but Jesus
Can do helpless sinners good,”
and
“Sweetest rest and peace have filled me,
Sweeter peace than tongue can tell;
God is satisfied with Jesus,
I am satisfied as well.”
She listened, and said, “Those are very good words.”
“Yes, dear Miss E—, but you are not satisfied with Jesus.”
Next day she called me to her and said, “You must not interfere any more with my religion.”
I replied, “I have not once mentioned that to you; I have only spoken of the Lord Jesus. Will you not hear of Him again?”
“No, because I know you are a heretic,” she said.
Feeling assured that the Lord was working in her soul, and that this was only the enemy’s assault on the truth of God, I waited three days in silence. On the fourth day she called me back. This time it was not “Send for a priest,” but “Is there anybody anywhere who will pray for me?”
“Yes, dear, there is one who does pray for you very often.”
“Are you sure? Do you know who it is? Do I know the one?”
Then I told her that since she had refused to hear me speak of Jesus to her, I had spoken to Him about her, and she at once drank in every word, as I told of His great love in taking the sinner’s place in death. Then I sang―
“Nothing either great or small,
Nothing, sinner, no;
Jesus did it, did it all,
Long, long ago.
‘It is finished,’ yes, indeed,
Finished every jot;
Sinner, this is all you need,
Tell me, is it not?”
When I got to “It is finished” a look of peace settled on her face, and as I spoke of those three precious words she exclaimed, “I do trust Him. I see it now, but not so clearly as you do.”
I replied, “Soon you will see His face, and then you will fully know His love.” I spoke of the dying thief who went to be with the Lord the day he trusted Him.
To my surprise she said, “I ought to have known sooner; my father talked to me just as you do, when I was a girl.”
I learned afterward she was of Christian parents, but turned to the Church of Rome in early youth. Now, at this advanced age, the seed sown in childhood sprang up in her heart. Never again was there a doubt or fear―only one shadow clouded her joy, it was on account of the years that had vanished in gloom. She remarked, “I am only a little child, and you are like a grandma,” thus admitting, in her quaint way, that she knew she had only begun to live.
A few days before she passed away she was telling how she loved me.
I answered, “Yes, dear, but you love the Lord Jesus―that is best of all.”
“Well, yes, I do now,” she said reservedly, no doubt with regret for the past.
So I asked, “But does not the blessed Lord love you?”
“Yes, yes, oh yes,” she exclaimed, and her dear old face lighted up with joy as she added, “Why, He died for me.”
She loved to hear His name now, and to have His words repeated to her, and would say, “What a nice little talk we have had.” The priest called once to see her, and after he left I inquired if he said anything to comfort her. She said she thought so, but could not remember what he said, as she was thinking of what we had been talking about before he came. So the Lord kept her mind at rest.
About a fortnight after she found “peace in believing” she passed away, as gently as a tired child falls asleep, when laid to rest on its pillow. To His precious name be all the praise, who is wondrous in working, and excellent in all His ways.
“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear!
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.”
E. H.