A FEW months ago, I met a poor old man on the road, who asked if I would buy some of his trifles. He was a poverty-stricken creature, and could only speak very inarticulately.
After a little conversation with him, I said, “Have you anything to look to when you shall have done with this world?” I shall never forget the expression of joy that lighted up his face as, holding up one of his hands, he said, in broken language, “Oh, yes—yes, the blood the precious blood”; and then, taking a Bible from his breast, added, “This book tells me of the precious blood.”
Here his heart was too full for utterance. I grasped his hand, for I was sure that the poor old wayfarer was, indeed, a true believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. A little further conversation with him fully showed that he was clear as to his acceptance and standing before God. He was saved by that “precious blood,” and he knew it. He did not hope to be saved, nor did he give a nominal assent to the cleansing power of the “blood,” as thousands in christendom do—he was living in the full consciousness of all his sins being washed away in that most “precious blood.” The blood in its “solitary dignity” had done for him what it has done for thousands—aye, millions—who believe on Jesus. “But if we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.”
I have not seen the old wayfarer since. For aught I know he may have gone to be with that precious Saviour whom he loves—to be with Him forever. I often picture to myself the poor old man, sitting by the wayside, with his well-thumbed Bible, drinking in its precious lessons: lessons which showed him his state by nature—a “child of wrath,” “the wrath of God abiding on him,” but which told him, too, of the wondrous grace which had sought him and found him, and which reaches down to man’s deepest need.
If this should meet the eye of any who are still undecided, the writer would earnestly beseech them to decide at once, “For now is the day of salvation.” In the closing book of God’s word is an invitation of exquisite earnestness: “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me.” (Rev. 3:20.) The Lord Jesus Christ is still outside the closed door of your heart—that same Jesus who left the glories of heaven, and by the manger, the cross, and the grave sought to win you to Himself, and His invitation is one of the purest grace.
The word is, “Come; for all things are now ready.” (Luke 14:17.) Oh! let not the “piece of ground,” the “yoke of oxen,” nor the newly-married wife hinder you from coming to this precious Saviour. All is free; there is no hindrance. All is of grace—free, sovereign grace.
Reader, do weigh in the depth of your soul this momentous question, “How am I treating the offer of this free grace? Have I received it, or am I deliberately rejecting it?” Solemn question! You must either have to do with Jesus now as a Saviour, or, by-and-by, as a Judge, when the day of salvation shall be past, and the door of mercy closed forever.
The last time the world saw Christ was when wicked men, led on by Satan, had nailed Him to the cross. When next the world shall see Him, He will be holding the rod of power, and the sword of judgment. Oh! will you not meet Him in grace now?
Think of this dear old man. He could say, “My Saviour is the One who loves me, and shed His precious blood for me.” Oh! the power of that “precious blood”!
Delay no longer: come to this precious Saviour. All the sins of all who believe on Him are washed away, and we cannot be judged for them over again, because Jesus died under the weight of them when He hung on the cross.
“Draw near, and hear Him cry,
“Finished it is!”
Behold the Saviour die.
“Finished it is.”
“He came from heaven to be
Condemned upon the tree,
That pardon might be free.
“Finished it is.”
J.H.