It had been a bright warm day, a typical winter day in this sunny southland. The village lay peacefully at the foot of the lofty mountains, which looking out over the broad beautiful valley, caught in the distance a glimpse of the sea. The rays of the setting sun burnishing these peaks to a purple glow, and smiling a farewell to the lovely valley and distant sea, making it shine like a ribbon of gold!
Glimmering through the fern-like foliage of a great pepper tree, these golden rays lighted upon the veranda of a tiny white bungalow, where sat two young girls.
“O Lovita, how lovely it is here!” exclaimed the older one, smiling into the pale face of her sister, “I am sure you will soon be better?”
“Yes, indeed, dear, I feel better already,” and she sought to smother the deep cough which shook her frame.
Just at that moment, Mrs. Andrews, the neighbor from the next cottage, came across the lawn to welcome the strangers who had arrived only the night before. She started as her glance fell on the sick girl. One look of her practiced eye told her that her days were numbered.
After chatting a few minutes with the sisters, she slipped into the house to greet the mother, saying softly, “You have a very sick girl there, have you not?”
“O, do you think so?” anxiously inquired the mother.
“Yes, indeed, and you should have a doctor at once!” and hastening home she called her own physician.
The sun had slowly set, and the last rosy tint had faded from the somber sky, and the chill damp of evening gloom had settled over everything, when the doctor left the sick girl.
Mrs. Andrews was waiting for him. To her questioning look he shook his head gravely. “No hope. Both lungs gone. Only a few days to live,” and he hurried on.
O, how about her never-dying soul, thought Mrs. Andrews. I wonder if she is prepared to die? I must go over the first thing in the morning and tell her about the Lord Jesus, and the way of salvation.
But the next morning found Mrs. Andrews sick herself, and unable to leave her bed. For three days she lay there, often thinking of, and praying for her little sick neighbor. O, that the poor girl might live till she could speak to her of the Savior. Her thoughts formulated themselves into some verses which she jotted down.
On the fourth day, Mrs. Andrews was better, and quickly dressing, she hastened to Lovita’s bedside. The pallor on her sweet face was only intensified by the bright hectic flush on her cheek, and the brilliancy of her beautiful blue eyes. All told that the end was not far off.
After a few words of greeting and inquiry, lifting her heart to the Lord, Mrs. Andrews began:
“My dear, while confined to my bed, these past three days, I have been thinking so much of you, and my thoughts have framed themselves into these verses which I have written for you. Would you like to hear them?” At the silent nod of the head, Mrs. Andrews proceeded.
“There’s mercy today, dear sinner,
Tomorrow, it might be too late,
So hasten to seek Him, the Savior,
Who lingers at Mercy’s own gate.
He welcomes each sinner so burdened,
For refuge, O flee to His fold,
He gives to each, life everlasting!
Their peace and joy cannot be told!
Then come! Tarry not for the morrow,
Accept Him at once! Come today.
Delay might bring bitterest sorrow,
And close for thee Christ’s living way!
He pleads with thee, this loving Savior,
‘O come and accept My sweet rest.’
Refuse not His tender entreaties,
And you’ll be eternally blest!”
When the verses were finished, the girl remained silent, and Mrs. Andrews asked softly, “Could you tell me who the Lord Jesus is?”
“They say He is the Savior,” she replied.
“Cannot you say, dear, that He is your Savior?”
“But He cannot do it all.”
“Yes, Lovita, He can do all, for He is the Savior, and He gives a free salvation to all who trust in Him.”
“But I haven’t lived right, Mrs. Andrews.”
“No one else has, for it is ‘not of works’ for ‘by grace are ye saved through faith’, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works lest any man should boast.”
Lovita languidly closed her eyes, as though weary of the subject, and gave no response. The mother and sister were listening, but spoke not a word.
Discouraged and sick at heart, Mrs. Andrews left them, feeling that they cared not for her blessed Savior. How dreadful it seemed, having such a short time to live, and apparently “without God and without hope in the world.”
Surely only the Lord could open those closed eyes, and she ceased not to cry to Him for this.
Each day Mrs. Andrews visited and talked with them, seeking to awaken in the sick girl an interest in these things, and to show her her lost condition and need of a Savior, but in vain.
Early one morning Mrs. Andrews heard her name called, and to her astonishment the older girl came running in with an open Bible in her hand, exclaiming:
“O, I have found that verse you told us of, ‘by grace are ye saved, through faith!’ See here it is! How beautiful it is! I do believe it, and I am so happy!” Overjoyed in her newfound salvation, she asked Mrs. Andrews if she would come over and speak to her sister, that she, too, might believe. They went over. Lovita was resting quietly. Leaning over her, Mrs. Andrews said softly:
“My dear, would you like me to pray with you?” and at the silent nod, she prayed simply and fervently, and then repeated: “By grace are ye saved, through faith. Not of works lest any man should boast.” The mother and sister seemed to lay hold of the truth, “not of works.”
Very early the following morning, Mrs. Andrews was again called, for Lovita appeared to be sinking, and it seemed so dreadful to have her slip away from them without giving one word as to whether she was saved or not.
Her eyes were closed, as though she were unconscious. Putting her lips close to the ear of the sick girl, Mrs. Andrews said slowly:
“My dear, can you hear me? Listen to the words of the blessed Savior:
“‘Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’
“‘By grace are ye saved, through faith.’
“‘The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son cleanseth us from all sin.’
“‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ Do you accept the Lord Jesus as your own personal Savior?”
She waited for an answer, but the eyes were closed, and the features motionless. Still she waited, fearing that Lovita might be past hearing or replying. At last her eyes slowly opened, and a sweet smile lighted up her pale face. Heaving a deep sigh, she said slowly and with great effort: “Yes!”
What a joy to the watchers to have this one little word of assurance, that the dear one had received Christ into her heart!
The gladsome rays of the rising sun were just glinting the rugged mountains with a glory glow, and bathing the valley in a flood of golden light, when for the poor sufferer, her freed spirit took its flight to that eternal “morning without clouds,” into the very presence of her blessed Lord and Master, to bask forever in the sunshine of His love!
The devoted mother and sister, now happy believers, did “not sorrow as those who had no hope,” but were comforted by the knowledge that their dear one was “absent from the body and present with the Lord,” and knowing that “to depart and be with Christ is far better!”
Dear reader, if this question were put to you, “Do you know the Lord Jesus as your own personal Savior,” What would be your answer?
But, O, dear reader, do not wait for a deathbed conversion. How many have found it then too late. They had despised God’s offer of salvation through Christ once too often. Accept Christ as your own blessed Savior now while mercy’s door for you stands open.