Whilst driving out near an encampment of gipsies, I went in amongst them. After buying some of the skewers they were making, I learned that one of their number was ill. I begged to be allowed to see him. The father asked―
“Did you want to talk about religion to him?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“About Christ.”
“Oh! then you may go: only if you talk religion I’ll set the dog on to you.”
In the caravan I found a lad alone, and in bed, evidently at the far end of the last stage of consumption. His eyes were closed, and he looked as one already dead. Very slowly in his ear I repeated the Scripture, “God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” I repeated it five times without any apparent response; he did not seem to hear even with the outward ear. On hearing it the sixth time, he opened his eyes and smiled. To my surprise he whispered―
“And I never thanked Him; but nobody ever told me! I ‘turn Him many thanks—only a poor gipsy chap! I see! I see! I thank Him kindly!”
He closed his eyes with an expression of intense satisfaction. As I knelt beside him, I thanked God. The lips moved again. I caught “That’s it.” There were more words, but I could not hear them.
On going the next day, I found the dear lad had died (or rather, had fallen asleep in Jesus) eleven hours after I left. His father said he had been very “peaceable,” and had a “tidy death.” There was no Bible or Testament in the encampment. I left them one of each. The poor man wished me “good luck,” and gave me a little bundle of skewers the dear “boy Jemmy” had made.
Dear reader, it was apparently the first time this dear boy ever heard of God’s salvation, and with unquestioning faith he took God at His word, and with his dying lips thanked Him that He had so loved the world as to give His Son for him, a “poor gipsy chap.” God is satisfied with the finished work of Christ. This poor lad was also satisfied, and this mutual satisfaction was instant and everlasting salvation. In eleven short hours he exchanged that wretched bed in a rickety, forlorn caravan for the Paradise of God, where he is tasting that God is as good as His word. — An Extract.