WHEN God, by His Spirit, works in the heart of a poor sinner, we are constrained to exclaim, How perfect are His doings His ways may be varied in different individuals, yet the result is always the same in every case; it is the bursting forth of God’s sunlight in the dark mind; it is Jesus Coming in to make His abode in the heart and affections. Whoever the individual maybe, thus wrought upon by God, there is a new creation, and this is effected in God’s own way and time. The most spiritually minded cannot fathom His ways of working. Again and again when we hear of His dealings, that gloriously grand Scripture comes freshly to the soul, “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.”
One hot June afternoon I was meditating on the first ten verses of Luke 19, and thinking of the rich man there spoken of who had never seen Jesus, and who climbed into the sycamore tree to behold the wondrous One pass under it. Meditation upon the ready eye and loving heart of the Lord—never missing one glance of the sinner towards Himself, filled my soul with gladness, and even while I was blessing Him for the certain knowledge that those who seek shall find, and as my open Bible lay upon the table, Margaret, the subject of this story, entered the room.
Though I had never seen her, I had often heard of her, and was interested in her spiritual state. Margaret was a fine young woman, not yet twenty years of age, but as she sat down by my side, I saw at once that she was far gone in consumption. She could not speak for a time, through the exhaustion caused by her walking to my house; but after a little rest, she turned her eyes full upon me, and never, never shall I forget those big, glassy eyes, brimming with tears, and the beseeching agony of soul they expressed. Her sorrow went to my heart. Presently she said: “Do you know this?” at the same time putting down a piece of paper, on which were some lines of poetry, and pointing to these words, I read—
“Creation’s work is beautiful, her shadows and her lights;
Men love to gaze upon her, in all her varied sights;
But she is nothing, nothing, compared with the bliss
Of KNOWING CHRIST IS MINE, AND KNOWING I AM HIS.”
I was familiar with the verse, and well, indeed, could I realize the meaning of the two last lines. Having told this to my visitor, she earnestly said, “O! then that is what I have come about, I want to know how I can find out that Christ is mine? O! How can I know that? This is what I want. You say you know this; tell me, O, tell me what I want—I want Him. I am dying, the doctor has told me the truth, and I am assured he is right. Now tell me, I entreat you, how I can find it out. I could die joyfully if I knew He was mine and I was His.”
I was so overcome with Margaret’s deep, agonizing earnestness, that I could not reply for a few moments, and silently looked to God for the word, then I said, “Maggie, all are lost who do not know Jesus. Do you believe this?”
“O, yes,” she said, “I am lost, I know that—yes, I am lost without Him, I feel that, I am sure of that.”
“And you want to find out the way to be saved by Him?”
“Yes! yes! I do, I do.”
“Well then, listen.” She sat up closer to my invalid chair, as close as she could get, and with breathless eagerness listened while I slowly read aloud to her the last verse of the portion from Luke 1 had just been enjoying, “‘The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.’ Now, dear Maggie, you have nothing to ‘find out’ Zacchæus thought he would ‘find out’ something about Jesus, but Jesus found him out instead, and called him down to go with Him. Jesus in His love to the lost sinner went with Zacchaeus to abide in his house. Now Jesus is the same today as He was then, and He meets with you this afternoon; and God says to you, as we read in the last verse of John 3, ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.’ If you can take His own word for it, you are His this moment.”
“Then I do take Him at His word!” she exclaimed, “and He is mine.”
“Now I am sure that you can, from your heart, finish the lines which brought you here. Can you not?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I am His!” and she burst into tears of joy and rejoicing. Hearing this, I could but kneel down and thank our Lord Jesus for His grace, in thus revealing Himself to one who had so truly longed to know Him.
Our interview being ended, she went to her home “a new creature in Christ Jesus.”
She grew more bright and lovely in spirit, rejoicing in the Lord Day by day. On one occasion her old aunt said to a friend who called at the house, inquiring if Maggie were at home.
“Is Maggie in, did you say? Ah! come and see. I’s fairly capped [astonished]; it isn’t Maggie, its no’ but [only] her shell there’s an angel inside of her now.”
How true was that word of the aged relative, but it was no angel who was within poor Maggie’s heart; no, indeed, but Christ Himself in her, as we read “Christ in you the hope of glory.” Verily old things had passed away, all things had become new, and all were of God. Would that in each of us only the “shell” of former self remained, and that Christ occupied every bit of the inside. What words are these, “I in them!” (John 17:2323I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me. (John 17:23)).
Maggie’s home was a sorrowful one. Her mother was dead, and her father was an unfeeling, drunken man. This was a deep sorrow to her poor heart, for she was gentle and tender, and these bitter circumstances, no doubt, hindered the out bursting of much joy. Within she had peace, but her father was a heavy burden to her soul.
A few months after our first interview, Maggie was gently taken from us to be “forever with the Lord.” Her end was great peace in the experience of His love which passeth knowledge, a calm and holy confidence, and a patient waiting to be free, accompanied by a deep longing for Him who so loved her. It was with her “I have no will, no spirit of my own, all, all is Thine, Lord. Thy love is mine, Lord, and mine is Thine, Lord.”
She fell asleep one Lord’s Day morning just before daybreak—her last words were, “I am His!” Never since the hour when she first believed had she a doubt or a shadow of a doubt. She now fully knows what it is to be “His.”
Dear reader, do you know the Lord for yourself? Have you a personal acquaintance with Him? The hour is coming when you will need Him. I pray you give no rest to your soul till you know that “He is yours and you are His.” Your last moment will come; every year you pass the month of your death, every month the date, every week the day, and every day the hour on which you will be called away, and every hour the moment by the clock on which your spirit must leave its house of clay. Yet there is another and a greater event which may overtake you. The Lord may descend from heaven with a shout, and find you unprepared. All is uncertainty here without Christ. May the Lord open your eyes, that you may see your need of Him, and then, like dear Maggie, may He give you no rest till you know what a Saviour Jesus is; till you can sing, as she did,
“Jesus is mine!
Jesus is mine.”
Z.