WHILE engaged in preaching the Gospel in one of the British isles during the latter part of 1874, I took up my abode in its principal town; and on the way to and from my lodgings, on several occasions, I met a young man walking towards the sea-evidently seeking its fresh breezes to revive his weary and emaciated frame. He was about eighteen years of age; tall and slender, with blue eyes, and brown hair. But oh! his sad, sad face I shall never forget!
His expression was truly hopeless! As one bearing God's message of love to dying men, my heart was anxiously drawn out to seek him for Jesus. As he was slowly walking along, I soon had an opportunity of speaking with him, but what was my horror and surprise to find, that to the things of God he was an utter stranger! He scarcely knew that there was either a heaven or a hell! and Jesus Himself, and the value of His blood, were alike unknown to him. I felt greatly for his sad condition, and looked up to the Lord to have mercy upon this poor lost one. I asked his leave to visit him, and found he lived not far off. I made his case known to one or two other Christians, asking them to visit and speak with him also, my dear wife amongst them, who accompanied me to his bedside after he became worse.
Finding his countenance still miserable, I one afternoon made the following remark: — “You do not seem to be right with God yet.”
He replied, "I am not.”
“Well," said I, " there is no one here but you and me and God; come tell me your difficulty.” He burst into tears and said, “My difficulty is, I cannot give God my heart, and I cannot give up the world." “Now," I said, "will you believe me in what I am about to say?" He solemnly replied" I will, indeed, believe you." "Well," I said," you are all wrong; God does not want you either to 'give up the world,' or to give him your heart.'
Now, what do you think?”
“Well," said he," what is it then?" I replied, "God is a giver, and wants nothing from the poor sinner, nor asks him to do anything: He simply tells you by the Gospel your wretched condition, and offers you there and then a remedy, even salvation—without money and without price.”
“After a pause he said, “I see things in a different light.”
“Thank God," said I," if you do. But before I leave, I must seek to impress this upon you, that God is a giver, God is a giver, God is a giver!" So I left him, having to preach in a village some few miles out of town that same evening. The next time I called upon him he looked quite happy and radiant.
He informed me that, after I had left that day, he was thinking the thing all over, and about two o'clock A.M., as he lay awake on his bed, the love of God rushed into his heart, and he saw it all plainly. This accounted for his changed countenance-changed from misery to settled peace! A peace and joy remarked by all who afterward visited him. The poor bodily sufferer lingered for a month or two, and then passed away into the presence of his Lord, where “there is fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore" (Psa. 16) ...
Reader, how do you stand with God? A most solemn question for any one. Time is shalt.
Consumption's scythe is as sharp and pitiless as ever t and man is heir to ten thousand other forms of disease, any of which can take him away into the presence of his God with a stroke! May I say unto you, reader, likewise—"God is a giver." Yes, “Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely." For a once dead, but now living and glorified Christ offers it: see that you refuse Him not. See John 12:47, 4847And if any man hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not: for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world. 48He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath one that judgeth him: the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day. (John 12:47‑48). D. R. F.