MRS. E. lived in one of the back streets of our city, close to where we had our Sunday school. Her children used to be sent to that school, and she herself came once or twice to our evening meetings. She was but twenty four, yet an open and avowed skeptic. There was no God and no devil, she would say, and laugh when Christ and His love was spoken of. I used to see her standing by her open dour as I passed and repassed to the meetings. Little I thought how very soon she would pass into eternity. Ah! we never know, we cannot tell what a moment may bring forth. The braggart tongue, which, big with the bluster of hell, defies God one day may be stilled in death the neat; the puny arm, raised in rebellion against its Maker one moment, may the next be shattered by the Power it insulted. Ay, even now, sinner, you may be gazing your last upon an earthly invitation; but as you read, may heavenly light dawn on your darkened soul. These are the words of Christ, “Come un to Me.........and I will give you rest.”
She, of whom I write, was taken ill, very ill; but she got better, went about her work too soon, caught a cold, had a relapse; and the hand of death was on her. I received a message one afternoon to come at once and see Mrs. E. who was dying. I was out when the message came, but went to call on her about five o’clock. Entering the street where she lived, I noticed an unwonted stir. People were talking together in groups with pale and earnest faces. As I passed on, I was startled to hear shriek after shriek in a frenzied human voice. They came from the house of Mrs. E., from the room where she was lying; yes, from her dying lips. I stopped for a moment to speak to a man standing in the doorway of the next house, and said, “S., what is it?”
“Oh,” he replied with trembling lips, “It is’nt her body, it is her poor soul. All the day she has been like this; her cries are fearful.” And again, as he spoke, the shrieks were heard.
I said, “I will go and see her.”
Slowly I mounted the stairs of the house to the room whence these awful cries had come.
As I went up, I heard moans and groans and cries, but entered. At the first hurried glance around I saw a form on a bed by the window, and three or four women standing round.
As I approached nearer, never to my dying day shall I forget the sight I saw.
Stretched out before me was a human body, the chest heaving, the heart palpitating wildly, the cheeks hollow and flushed fearfully, the dark hair tangled and confused about the head and brow; but oh! the eyes: what awful light was that which shone so luridly there those rolling orbs in such indescribable unrest! As I gazed, I cried out in uncontrollable emotion.
“Those are not the eyes of a human being, they are the eyes of a fiend!” My whole body seemed conscious of an awful presence, and my soul rose in arms as against a deadly enemy.
I bent over her and said,
“Mrs. E., did you ever hear of Jesus Christ?”
No more could I say, for she gave a shriek as from the burning pit of hell which seemed to pierce my heart. The awful gleam of those satanic eyes seemed to hurl defiance at that sacred Name, and on me for uttering it Again I bent over, for I had started back appalled, and said, “Yes, Mrs. E., of Jesus Christ, who came into the world to save sinners?”
Again and again she gave that awful cry, the only answer; a cry of unutterable agony, with some tone in it as of a frightened hare in the hand of its captors, ―a wild despairing appeal, that gave one the idea of limitless human woe that could not be appeased.
And now the eyes seemed shining with fire and with an inexplicable something that made me tremble.
I took up my hat with shaking hands and said as I turned away, “I could not stay here tonight for anything,” and as I spake, I walked towards the door.
Looking back as I stood in the doorway, I noticed that, wherever I went, I was followed by those burning eyes. I passed appalled outside the room and into the street, promising to call again later on.
Some more particulars I heard from those outside, depicting her fearful condition. They told me she had begged her husband to close the door and not to leave the room, as the devil was there to take her. This was before I saw her, for she could not speak then, —her mouth was like the coal, and her tongue seemed burnt like a cinder.
Yes, this was Mrs. E. who had said there was no God nor devil, lying upstairs in the grasp of a demon, struggling with the little life she had left against the power that was dragging her down to torment. Who could deliver her? Only One I knew; and as I walked home that quiet evening hour, my thoughts went back to other days, and I seemed to hear echoing down the aisles of time the words, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth come out of her.
“Yes, Lord,” I said, as I looked up wards, “This is the power wanted now, and oh! for the faith to use it.” I prayed earnestly for guidance, and felt happier.
It was Tuesday afternoon; and we had a meeting at the Room in the evening. Calling to see her again between 7 and 8, I found she was just the same. The doctor had seen her, and spoken to her; so had her husband; but she had taken no notice. No! her shrieks were for the name of Jesus now.
I went to the meeting, called out a dear brother and briefly told him about her case; then we prayed together to the Lord for guidance.
Between nine and ten we went up into her room. I shuddered again as I saw those eyes fixed with such malignant hate, it seemed, upon me. The whole soul seemed in arms, and as if its portals were barricaded by an invading power that kept unceasing watch and ward out of those sentinel eyes.
But now I felt too within me, as I never felt before, the truth and power of these words, “Greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.” “If God be for us, who against us?” This was the place, and now the time, to battle for the Lord. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world.”
“Let us pray.”
As I uttered the words, a deep hush fell upon all in the room; but as the prayer was continued appealing to the Lord for help, we felt the presence of the strife. Around us invisible combatants seemed to be contending for this passing soul. Sobs came from every bosom, tears from every eye. Still faith kept her stand on the heights of prayer; and as the supplications increased in power, it seemed to us as though slowly and surely the enemy was being dislodged. The prayer closed; and one look at the eyes told me that still the demon held the gateways of the soul.
Our dear brother bent over her and began to speak. This I felt to be the supreme moment in the strife, ―that now the time had come for the “Name above every name” to be magnified, I said, “That is not what she wants: speak the name of Jesus to her.”
Stooping lower he said,
“Jesus, Jesus, JESUS, JESUS, JESUS,” until the room resounded with the sound of that precious name. It rose above the sobs that came from all the rest. It seemed to flood my soul with ecstasy Jesus, Jesus, JESUS, JESUS, he continued, when he was arrested by a cry from one of the watching women, “Oh! look, look,” she cried, “What a blessed change! her face is like the face of a child.”
I looked, and it was even so. The eyes, so lately the outposts of a demon, were now calm and peaceful; the bosom ceased to heave fearfully, and the heart to throb wildly. The devil was gone out of the woman, and the wondering friends around her bed spoke with awe of what they had seen.
“Did you see it?” they continued, “It was in a moment.”
Yes, it was done; praise and glory to His name. On that battle-field what thankful hearts gave praise to Him! She slept calmly and peacefully now as we left the room. It was midnight as we passed along the street, and came to the city wall. There we stayed awhile and gazed over the sleeping city, and talked of the “city which hath the foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” Then with bare heads and thankful hearts we prayed to God to bless the dying sinner we had left. My dear brother then left me for his home, and I went back to watch the end.
She lay still peacefully breathing. She had not spoken, nor could she speak. The eyes were restful, and her face had a peaceful smile upon it, as of one who had suffered much, but who was tranquil now. I stood and watched her as the hours went on, praying to God on her behalf; and, between three and four o’clock in the morning as I gazed upon her face, she breathed her last.
You ask me, Was she saved? I cannot tell: the day will declare. I cherish the hope even as I write this, and God’s grace seems to encourage me, that she was snatched “as a brand from the burning.” Let me ask now, Are you saved? If not, a fearful hell awaits you; a just and everlasting judgment on your sins. “Flee from the wrath to come.”