A POOR woman was dangerously ill. She had been attended for some time by a medical gentleman, a friend of the writer’s, and a Christian, who, for love of Christ, gave a large portion of his time, medicine, and skill, to relieving the diseases of the poor. He had attended this woman at the writer’s request, and one day, on meeting him in the street, remarked, “That woman cannot possibly live.”
“Does she know it?” inquired the writer;
“No,” said the physician; “we do not like to alarm our patients by telling them their danger, except under special circumstances.”
“Well,” replied the writer, “that woman, when. I last saw her, was quite unconcerned about her soul; perhaps if she knew that she must die, she might be awakened to a sense of her need of Christ.”
“I will go and tell her at once,” said the good physician; and away he went forthwith.
A few hours afterward, the, writer was sent for by the dying woman, to whom he was well known as a servant of Christ. On entering her chamber, she thus addressed him:
“The doctor tells me I must die I have been a good mother and a virtuous wife; I have done my duty by my husband and children. I have never willingly wronged man or woman; but there is one thing I have done: I HAVE NEGLECTED GOD ALL MY LIFETIME, and I am now going to stand before God’s judgment, and how shall I account to him for having done my duty by all and despised him? It seems so dreadful now to think of facing God with such a sin upon my head!”
The writer pointed her to Christ, whose precious blood cleanseth from all sin. She exclaimed in tones of terrible anxiety, “I want to believe, but I can’t. I have attended to everything else but him, and now that I am dying how can I expect him to listen to me? I fear it is too late!” Her visitor strove to persuade her that Christ would even yet receive her, reading to her the short, but significant history of the dying thief, and commenting on those gracious words, “Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out;” but for some time in vain. Her constant cry was, “I want to believe, I want to repent; but I cannot. Oh what shall I do?”
Quoting from Romans 10 the visitor replied, “It is written, Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. Ask him to give you power to believe.”
Her reply was, “I don’t know how to ask: I have lived all these years in the world, and have never learned to pray!”
“Shall I pray for you?”
“Oh do!” she exclaimed; and most attentively did she listen as the writer besought a gracious God, for his dear Son’s sake, to give her grace to believe his blessed word and look to Jesus. Once more bidding her ask the Lord to enable her to believe in the all-sufficient blood of Christ, her visitor departed as she exclaimed, “Lord, help me to believe.”
This interview took place on a Monday morning. From that time down to Friday, the writer visited her every day. Each time he went he found her anxiety deepened, and ascertained that she had continued day and night to call upon the Lord. She never slept. Her disease was of such a nature that to lie down would have been suffocation. Propped up with pillows, she sat awake, too anxious about her soul, too much in earnest after salvation to close her eyes, or cease to call upon the Lord until the answer came. The gospel of the grace of God was daily set before her; but it was not till Friday morning, five days after the first mentioned conversation, that she got peace. On entering her room that morning, the first words that fell upon the visitor’s ears were, “I know that I am saved, for God himself has said so.” She lived but three days longer.
During this short interval, she who had (as she said) never learned to pray, poured forth such supplications on behalf of her husband, children, and friends, as astonished all who heard her. Many of her friends and neighbors gathered round her dying bed from time to time, and often expressed to the writer their wonder and surprise at what they heard from her lips. It is to be hoped that, short as was the space which elapsed between the moment she got peace and her departure, her testimony to the grace and power of the Saviour of sinners was blessed to some. She fell asleep in Jesus on the following Monday night, testifying to the last, “I know that I am saved, for God himself has said so.”
Reader, can you say so too? If not, consider the peril you are in. Your last hour may be near, must come at last. And when it comes, how will you account to God for the contempt you have shown for his Christ? Have you done your duty by all, and is he alone neglected and despised? What utter contempt for the Lord is couched in the moralist’s plea, “I have done my duty by my family and my neighbor, I have never injured any man.” God and his Christ set last of all! nay, set nowhere! Oh that we could arouse you to a sense of your danger before it is too late!
The subject of this narrative was aroused at last when death and judgment stared her in the face. She did not pray for forgiveness, that was offered her, assured to her by the blood of Christ. But she had heard and neglected the truth so often and so long, that when she wanted (oh how earnestly) to believe it, she could not. She sought power to believe, she strove, she agonized, she never slept, she never ceased to cry till she could say, “I know that I am saved, for God himself has said so.” “Go thou and do likewise.”