"No, sir," said a nurse who attended the deathbed of Voltaire, to a gentleman with whom she was in consultation, "no, sir, not for all the wealth of Europe would I see another infidel die." What a testimony to the horrors of infidelity! Tom Paine, that low-lived debauchee, died crying.
"Christ, have mercy on me!"
Infidelity will not do for a death-bed. Men may live without Christ, they do not like to die without Him. Even with the most profligate and hardened, conscience will make itself heard. It speaks in thunder to their terror-stricken hearts. "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." There may be a species of pleasure in the pursuits of the ungodly, but it is short-lived, and frequently its light expires amid the blackness of darkness.
Come, then, poor sinner, no longer delay;
Come to the Savior, come now while you may:
So shall your peace be eternally sure,
So shall your happiness ever endure.
Take the lost sinner's place, then you can claim the lost sinner's great salvation.