“CAN you direct me to S―?” inquired an old woman, whose silvery hair and wrinkled brow told that the sands of her life’s brief day were fast running out.
“No, I cannot,” I replied; “but I can tell you the way to heaven.”
“Oh, sir, I hope to go there,” she exclaimed, with a depth of feeling which plainly told that her desire was a real one.
“Are you only hoping? Would you not like to be quite sure?”
“Oh yes, sir; but none of us can be quite sure!”
“Indeed I do, sir.”
“What does God say those have, who really believe on His Son?”
“Everlasting life.”
“Now, look at that little word of four letters, which connects faith in God’s Son with the gift of eternal life, and tell me, is not that a present thing― ‘Hath,’ that is, you have the gift the moment you trust God’s word?”
Tears of joy trickled down her furrowed cheeks as she exclaimed, with deep emotion, “I have been a member of a chapel for twenty-eight years but I never saw that ‘Hath’ before-never knew that I could be quite sure. Thank you, sir; thank you, sir. I hope I shall not forget your words, sir.”
“Do not trouble about my word,” I replied; “you have God’s word, to which you can turn every moment of your life, and find the precious assurance unchanged, unaltered, that all who believe have everlasting life, and that not upon the ever-changing, ever-varying feelings of the believer, but upon the authority of God’s word.”
H. N.