AS I stood, in company with her husband, silently gazing upon poor Mary, and waiting for her to arouse from the stupor into which she had fallen, I could scarcely refrain from asking myself, “Is it possible that there is life in that apparently unconscious form, and that this is indeed that once young and fair Mary whom I knew in days gone by?”
Poor Mary! In her youth, while her heart was yet tender, she had heard and received the truth as it is in Jesus, and for awhile her bright, beaming countenance bore witness to the deep and heartfelt joy which was then reigning within. But Mary disobeyed that solemn exhortation, “Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,” she imprudently married a man of the world. Not a great while afterward she was overtaken by many and deep sorrows. Ere she was attacked by the painful disease which had laid her prostrate, it had grieved me much, when we occasionally met, to observe her sorrowful look, which evidenced only too clearly her unrest of soul.
A burdened and wounded conscience who can endure? The coveted object of attraction when obtained, the eagerly sought after momentary pleasure when realized, cannot possibly compensate for the loss of a good conscience, without which it is vain to hope for the enjoyment of communion with God. How essential, beloved reader, that you and I should be found “holding faith and a good conscience,” lest we also, having thrust these from us, make “shipwreck concerning the faith.” The Apostle Paul exercised himself, “to have always a conscience void of offense toward God, and toward man.”
My thoughts concerning Mary were interrupted by a slight movement of the poor suffering body. Her eyelids being raised, her eye, that still retained something of the natural brightness, turned towards me. Gently and tenderly I uttered a few simple words, pointing her to Him who saveth to “the uttermost” all that come unto God by Him.
Mary’s days on earth were numbered. Would the Lord suffer her to remain beclouded in mind until the feeble glimmering of life was utterly extinguished? Or would He, before He called her to Himself, enable her to confess that He had restored to her the joy of His salvation? My longing desire to hear something from her own lips that should indicate that she was indeed restored, led me again to her bedside. As before, her several responses to my remarks were almost unintelligible. At length my thoughts were directed to Mal. 3:16, 1716Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another: and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name. 17And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him. (Malachi 3:16‑17); and I made the remark that if by reason of her extreme debility she was now unable to speak of the Lord, He remembered those that “feared Him,” and that “thought upon His name.” It was evident she had grasped my meaning, for, with a clearness and distinctness that surprised me, she quickly responded, “My Saviour is strong.”
Her subsequent remarks were as unintelligible as before, but these four words, clearly expressed, at once dissipated my anxiety. Her poor suffering body was fast succumbing to the effects of weakness and disease. Death was rapidly approaching, but, as she was passing through the valley of the shadow of death, it was then she realized that her Saviour was strong.
Verily, Mary was one of those who “have no might,” nevertheless it was given her to trust in Him who “increaseth strength” yea, and who “giveth power to the faint.” He opened her lips that her mouth should show forth His praise, before her spirit was released from its habitation, and before her poor body was brought into the dust of death.
Though Mary had herself been unfaithful in the past, she was permitted in her hour of weakness to testify to the strength of Him who abideth faithful. She had formerly wandered sadly, but now she could repose her heart’s fullest confidence in Him who had mercifully restored her soul. He would— He did — take her safely home to be with Himself forever.
It may be my reader has gone astray from following the Lord, and that even now he is mourning the loss of that comfort of love, of that overflowing heartfelt joy, and of the enjoyment of that peace, all of which were once consciously possessed. In the realization of your poverty of soul, oh! return to your “first love,” for He who is able to restore unto you the joy of His salvation shows “Himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward Him.”