“On the sixteenth day after the battle of G―, I entered the room where a young wounded Colonel was apparently near death. As I entered he was roused from his stupor, beckoned me to his bedside and threw his arms round my neck.
“Oh my father, how glad I am to see you! I was afraid you would not come till it was too late. I am too weak to say much, so you must do the talking. Pray tell me about mother and sister.”
I soon perceived by appearances that there was no hope of his recovering. But as I could not endure the agony of suspense, I inquired of the doctor: “How long do you think he can live?”
“Not more than four days. He may drop away at any hour.”
“Has anyone told him this?”
“No. We left that for you, as we had been expecting you for several days.
As I re-entered the room with the message of death on my heart, the eyes of my son fastened upon me.
“Come sit by me, father. Have you been talking with the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Does he think I will recover?”
After a painful silence he said, “Don’t be afraid to tell me what he said.”
“He told me you must die.”
“How long does he think I can live?”
“Not more than four days, and that you may die at any hour.”
“Then I must die. Oh I cannot, I must not die! I am not prepared. Do tell me how I can get ready. Tell me.
I know you can, father. I used to hear you explain it to others.”
It was no time for tears, but calmness and light, to bring a soul to Christ, and both were given.
“My son, I see you are afraid to die.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, I suppose you feel guilty?”
“Yes, that is it. I have been wicked. You know how it is in the Army.”
“You want to be forgiven, don’t you?”
“Oh yes. Can I be, father?” “Certainly.” “Can I know it before I die?” “Certainly.”
“Well now, father, make it so plain I can understand it.”
At once an incident in his school days came to my mind. I had not thought of it for years. It now came fresh to me, and just what was wanted to direct my son to Jesus.
“Do you remember while at school in ―, you came home one day, and having reason to rebuke you, you got angry and abused me with harsh wards?”
“Yes, father. I was thinking it all over as I thought of your coming and felt so bad about it, that I wanted to see you and once more ask you to forgive me.,”
“Do you remember, after your temper cooled down, you came in, threw your arms about me, and said: ‘My dear father, I am sorry I abused you so. I was very angry. Won’t you forgive me?’”
“Yes, I remember it.”
“Do you remember what I said as you wept on my neck?”
“You said, I forgive you with all my heart,’ and kissed me. I shall never forget it.”
“Did you believe me?”
“Certainly. I never doubted your word.”
“Did you feel happy again?”
“Yes. And since that time, loved you better than ever. How it relieved me when you looked on me and said I forgive you with all my heart.’”
“Well, this is the way to come to Jesus. Tell Him you are sorry, just as you told me; and quicker than a father’s love forgave, will He forgive you. He says He will. And you must take him at His word, as you did me.”
“Oh father, is this the way to become a Christian?” “I don’t know of any other.”
“Why, I can get hold of this. I’m glad you’ve come.”
He turned his head upon his pillow. I sank into a chair and wept; my heart could no longer suppress its emotions. I had done my part, and committed the case to Jesus. And He, too, had done His part. The broken heart had believed in Him, heard His voice, and been healed.
I soon felt the nervous hand on my head, and heard “Father,” in such a tone of joy, that I knew the change had come.
“I don’t want you to weep any more,” he said. “I am happy. Jesus has forgiven me. I know it. I take His word for it, as I did yours.”
The doctor came in, found him cheerful and happy, felt his pulse and said: “Why Colonel, you look better.”
“I am, doctor, going to get well. Father has told me how to be a Christian. God has heard me. Doctor, I want you to be a. Christian, too. My father can tell you how.”
The Colonel still lives, a member of the body of Christ.
I was made a better man, better evangelist, by that scene. And then and there resolved never to forget the charge my boy gave me in the day of his extremity: “Make it so plain that I can get hold of it.”