One very hot summer day I was sitting by a patient in one of the wards of a hospital. All the beds in the long room were occupied; and my attention was presently attracted by a woman stooping over a bed, and fondly kissing a pale-faced little girl.
When she was gone, I went over.
“Fanny R., aged 14,” was written on the ticket at the bed’s head.
I found that she was ill and got but little better. The doctors, she told me, did not say whether she would recover.
I soon found that she did not know the Lord Jesus, or the forgiveness of sins; but she looked at me earnestly while I spoke of His love; and when I saw her again, in a week or two, she warmly welcomed me.
“O! no,” she said, “she could not say that she was saved; she wished to be; she prayed to be; but she was not happy; she should not like to die.”
Not long afterward, I was surprised to meet her in the street.
“O! Miss, I am so glad to see you.” “Why, Fanny! are you so much better?”
“Yes, I am better,” she said; “but I am only out of the hospital now for an hour’s walk.”
“Well, and have you been thinking of Jesus since I saw you?”
“O! yes; and what is best, He has forgiven all my sins.”
“Has He?”
“Yes, I know He has; and I’m so happy now, and not afraid to die! I did ask Him to, ever since the first time you came to see E. K.”
Fanny soon left the hospital, and came to live at home, close to where I held a little class on a Sunday afternoon. She used to come in with her bright, beaming face, and sit and listen, amid all her pain, until she became too weak.
“O! I am very happy,” she used to say, “I have Jesus, my precious Saviour, aays with me.”
“Fanny,” I said, one day, before some of her neighbors, “you know that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin, don’t you?”
“O! yes,” she replied, with such a smile.
Her little Bible was always beside her. I never saw a cloud on her sweet face.
“I do love Jesus, and I know He loves me,” would be often her joyful exclamation.
One Sunday afternoon as I was leaving her, she held my hand and said,
“O! Miss, I can’t be afraid to die now, for my sins are all forgiven; and I would rather go to be with Jesus, than stay here. I long to see Him.”
“But He is with you now, Fanny, is He not?”
“O! yes; He is precious,”
A lady called to see her, who did not know the peace which the blood of Jesus gives; and she was surprised at Fanny’s joy and at her calm assurance of her sins forgiven.
“My dear child,” said the lady, “are you sure you are not deceiving yourself?”
“Jesus can’t deceive me, Mrs. W. No; O, no.”
“I hear the accuser roar
Of ills that I have done;
I know them well, and thousands more;
Jehovah findeth none.”
ML 12/13/1942