SOME years have passed since the following facts occurred, which speak most truly of what the Lord is to those who take Him at His word, and who, like Mary, have chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from them.
I shall never forget how sad I felt when, on approaching a public building near Dublin, I noticed these words in large letters on the outside— “Hospital for Incurables.” The inscription seemed to speak of hopeless sorrow for those who were compelled to seek shelter within its walls. There was no fault to be found with the pleasantly-situated, fine building, or with those who conducted it, and who sought by every means in their power to secure the comforts of its inmates; but the sick who once entered within those doors knew that hope was over, and that they had bidden farewell to scenes in which they had formerly mingled. To many of them it was bitterly hard to be helplessly shut out from all they cared for, with a certain but unknown eternity before them.
Thoughts like these were passing through my mind, when I was arrested by a remark from a friend who accompanied me, and who was a frequent visitor, “You need not look so sad,” she said; “you will not, when you have seen some of those to whom I shall bring you.” I made no reply.
We were met by the Christian matron, who asked us whom we wished to see, reminding us that some were so weak that a few words were as much as they could bear; to one she especially referred, and to her ward we at once repaired. Here we found a young woman sitting up in bed—unable, from distortion of the spine, to lie down. Nine long years she had been in this state, and her sister, also suffering from the same disease, was in the room. The one was always confined to her chair; the other, night and day, was obliged to be kept in the same position.
My friend addressed the sufferer who was lying down, saying she had heard how weak she was, and therefore did not wish her to exert herself by talking. Her face lit up with joy as she exclaimed, “I must speak, I must tell what the Lord has done for my soul.” The beaming expression of her countenance so struck me that I exclaimed, “I came prepared to pity you, but I cannot, for you seem so fully to realize the Lord’s presence.”
“Yes,” she replied, “He sits down on that chair,” pointing to one beside her bed, “and talks to me.”
My friend afterward told me of the reply given by this happy sufferer to a deeply-tried lady, who had visited the hospital. The lady was sad by reason of the loss of her promising boy, who, when at school, had met with his death from the effects of a blow from a cricket ball. Before the mother could reach her boy he had ceased to breathe, and hard thoughts of God came into her soul with her sorrow. She had never known Him as a God of love, and therefore could not trace His hand in this affliction. She visited my poor friend, and gazing upon her suffering form, so long laid upon a bed of intense pain, her thoughts found vent in these words: “Well, I thought God had dealt very hardly with me, but it is nothing to what He has done to you. What have you ever done that He should afflict you so?”
The poor tried one looked in wonder for a moment, then, bursting into tears, said, “I could not hear my Lord so spoken of. What has He done? He has shut me out from the world to shut me in with Himself! What, of all the world could give me, could supply His presence now?”
The lady was silenced; the Lord had spoken through His servant. Whether the voice was heard I cannot say.
One case I especially wish to refer to, a young woman suffering from acute gout. No words could describe her intense pain, and none her joy in the Lord! Never known to complain, she proved in the night His song to be with her, and her prayer unto the God of her life. Never have I seen such untold anguish—never have I heard such untiring praise; for as another of the Lord’s prisoners sweetly sang—
“Naught have I else to do
I sing the whole day long;
And He whom most I love to please
Doth listen to my song.
He caught and bound my wandering wing,
And still He bends to hear me sing.”
A poor sufferer, having a paralyzed arm, said to me, “I bless the Lord for that arm, for it was the means of bringing me to Himself.” Her heart was so affected that she could not lie down, as they feared the consequences of the pressure of the poor helpless arm, so she was obliged to be kept propped up in a chair. While conversing with her, she suddenly burst into a loud laugh; she apologized, saying, “Do you know, miss, I am sometimes so happy in the Lord that the joy is too much for this poor weak frame, and I often have to laugh aloud:” truly it was joy unspeakable and full of glory. I said to another, who was also rejoicing in the Lord, “You are not to be pitied, for you realize the Lord’s presence so fully.” “Yes,” she said, “He walks up and down these wards, and talks with us.”
(To be continued)