It was a beautiful home in one of the most picturesque parts of the country, and the three ladies who shared it were surrounded by almost everything that the human heart desires. Highly educated, it had been theirs to mingle with the great and the learned; the name of one of them had become familiar, as a brilliant and voluminous writer, wherever the English language was spoken; they had the means of doing good to others less highly favored, and had delighted to use their wealth and their talents in works of philanthropy and mercy. They were highly thought of by those whose approval was worth having, and tenderly attached to each other; but—Yes, there was a “but” in their case—a crook in their lot—as in everyone else’s; all three (now elderly) were more or less invalids, and it was apparent to all that that three-fold cord of love and companionship was about to be broken.
The eldest of them, whose sparkling wit and keen sense of humor had made her remarkable from her girlhood, was drawing near the end of her earthly journey, and she and the others knew it. The brilliant social functions; the intellectual gatherings of the literary world; the quieter, but still deeper pleasures of ministering to the poor and needy, and the sweets of that dear home circle, all were passing: what remained? “We have brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out” (1 Tim. 6:77For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. (1 Timothy 6:7)). What was Sarah M taking with her into eternity? Was she going naked, and empty handed into the presence of her Creator? Your Creator, too, reader, to Whom you, too, soon must render account.
Her sister tenderly bends over her: “Do you know me?” she asks. “I know nobody but Christ,” is the answer from those dying lips. Then feebly, and painfully, “Talk of the cross the precious cross; the King of love!” “Oh, the blood of Christ! He died for me; God was made man.”
A friend repeated to her the heart-sustaining assurance: “The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.” Softly she repeated, “Cleanseth”; and a moment after, “Blessed Jesus!” the last word that could be understood.
A day or two before, on her medical attendant wishing her “good morning,” she had exclaimed, “Oh, for the glorious morning of the resurrection! but there are some gray clouds between!” Those clouds were not permitted to dim her joy, however, for waking out of a quiet sleep, she exclaimed, “Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto the Lamb. Hallelujah!”
And so she passed into eternity, knowing “nobody but Christ,” she, whose knowledge of the world, and the wisdom of the world, was much greater than that of either writer or reader of these lines is likely to be. Men may deride the Person of the Christ of God; may deny His Deity; ridicule the need of His atonement, and trample on His blood, accounting it an unholy thing; but what when death comes? What when everything of earth is slipping from their grasp?
Christ is the Wisdom of God, and He is the Power of God.
His word is unchangeable, unbreakable; He cannot deny Himself. Take your place before Him as a needy, bankrupt and guilty sinner; and find Him to be for time and eternity made unto you by God Himself, “wisdom and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption.”
T.