I CAN thank God for having given me Christian parents, who sought, by His help, to direct my steps to the road that leads to eternal life, “for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat.”
In early childhood I loved to hear my deal mother sing the hymns that she heard sung when at Rowland Hill’s chapel. Especially do I remember that one―
“Not all the blood of beasts,
On Jewish altars slain,
Can give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away its stain,”
which she would frequently sing in the evening after I was gone to bed. I would lie, and listen, and think over the sweet words until I fell asleep.
My mother ever taught me to have a great respect for the Lord’s Day, and would not let me buy sweets on the way to Sunday school, Of course, childlike, I wished to have sweets on Sunday, and my mother always told Inc I must get them on Saturday night.
My youthful days were passed away from home, among tempters and temptations, for I was apprenticed in London. But, thank God, I was kept from gross sins, in answer, feel sure, to the fervent prayers of my parents. And here I would say, if you are Christians, fathers and mothers, pray on for your children; and you will know by and by what snares and temptations your prayers have kept them from.
Although thus outwardly moral, I knew that I was not right with God; I was not at peace with Him, not reconciled, not converted. And the more my efforts at turning over new leaves, the less I found myself getting better. I used to read my Bible and say prayers pretty regularly; but for all this I knew I was unsaved, though should not have liked anyone else to have said so, in my pride maintaining to others that I was as good anybody else.
The summer of 1861 found me, a youth, on a holiday, at a watering-place on the south coast, with one or two friends.
I was taken up with boating, and, being fond of a sail, was often on board a certain yacht, which went out twice a day, “weather permitting.” I had a conscience about Sunday, and would not go out on that day for anything, remembering always my Christian mother’s teaching, so on Sundays I made a habit of going to chapel, morning and evening, taking a quiet walk in the afternoon.
One Sunday, after chapel in the evening, about eight o’clock, I saw on the beach a few persons standing in a group. The place was stirred that day, for there had been a terrible accident—the Clayton tunnel disaster. People did not yet know the details, but they had heard that many were suddenly sent into eternity; and railway accidents on Sundays seem to have a greater effect on people’s minds than at other times. I went to see what was going on, and found it was a religious meeting, so stood a little way off; not wishing to be spoken to, but still wanting, out of curiosity, to hear.
Perhaps, dear reader, you have been in a similar position, when the Spirit of God led you to hearken to the preached word, but you determined not to come to too close quarters with the preacher, or to allow anyone to say to you, “Are you saved?”
This would have been too straight a question for me, and one I did not want to answer. If I had said “No;” it would have been going further than I liked to own, for I was hoping it would be all right by and by, if I did not.do anything very bad. If I had answered, “Yes,” that would have been untrue, for I knew that I was not saved. Therefore I made up my mind not to talk about it at all, and kept at a respectful distance.
It was August, and very fine weather, and the preaching went on till late. As it grew dusk, I, with others, drew a little nearer, and presently there was quite a good company standing close up to the preacher. I had the thought, “This is pleasant,” and felt it was good to be there. I don’t know why, but I seemed to think that I was doing something that God would appreciate in helping with the singing! I thought we were having a good meeting, though I do not now remember subject or text. The deaths of many in the town were alluded to, and it seemed very solemn. After the addresses that well-known hymn was given out―
“There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.”
Then came the chorus―
“I do believe, I will believe
That Jesus died for me,
That on the cross He shed His blood,
From sin to set me free.”
My heart was too full, and I felt I could not sing that.
The hymn continued―
“The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.”
Feeling how utterly unable I was to say this, the tears rushed to my eyes. I quickly wiped them away, fearing observation; for, at that time, I thought it was unmanly to shed a tear.
Then came that burst of song again―
“I do believe, I will believe,”
and I could not help myself—the great drops, one by one, ran down my cheeks I slank away, but as I went, the hymn seemed to be following me.
I took the nearest way to the side of a boat, called the “Skylark,” and there, in the shade of its hulk, my heart beating so fast, I looked up to God, and poured out a prayer that I might be able to say those words truly to Him, that it might be real with me to say, “I do believe that Jesus died for me, that on the cross He shed His blood from sin to set me free.”
I walked back up the deserted beach, and returned to my friends, but kept my feelings to myself. God in His mercy followed me, and, after many deep exercises of soul, made known to me, in His grace, that Jesus had died for me, that Christ was my Saviour, and I rested on His work, finished nearly nineteen hundred years ago on Calvary’s cross.
Thank God, I have been able to say for now nearly thirty years, “He loved me, and gave Himself for me.” I found it was not by my good works, or by anything that I could do, but entirely by the favor of God.
Dear reader, are you willing to let God have His way with you? He sent His own Son, the Just, to die for us, the unjust. Only think of it, the best One in heaven for the worst one on earth! Give up looking for something in yourself, and look to Him, a Saviour that just suits a lost sinner. I can now, with many others, say that―
“On the cross He shed His blood,
From sin to set me free.”
Dear reader, can you really say as much before God? If not, seek His presence now, do not wait till you go to your chamber, but now, as you read this, speak to God. God is ever ready to hear and answer prayer. You may be the child of Christian parents, and many prayers may have ascended to the Throne of Grace for you. Do seek the Saviour now and decide for eternity. Perhaps you never had Christian parents to pray for you, and to guide you, as others may have had; if so, I would still urge you to come to the Saviour, as you are, in all your guilt, and find, as I did, through mercy, that He is a true and loving Saviour, and One whom you can trust, whether in life or in death. J. P.