LATE one evening a young man might have been seen hovering near a Lincolnshire farmhouse. To judge by his clothing, he was well-nigh destitute.
He had lived a somewhat reckless life up to this point. He had Christian parents, but had evidently cared little for their advice—hence his present position.
He ventured to approach the house, and asked if there was any prospect of work. The farmer looked him up and down, and said to him very plainly, “My man, if you die in your sins, you will go to hell.” This sounded unkind and harsh, but God was in it, as the sequel shows. The farmer’s wife, a kind, motherly woman, saw the plight the man was in, and at once brought him something to eat.
Just a fortnight later the farmer, who had almost forgotten the incident, noticed a shabby looking man following him almost wherever he went as he did his usual round at the neighboring market town of H—. At last he became somewhat irritated at seeing this man continually shadowing him. He thought, “What will these farmer friends of mine think? They will surely say that man must have been working for me, and that I have not paid him.”
Just as he was about to step into his trap, and leave the hotel yard, the man came up and said, “Please, sir, may I speak to you?”
Mr. H —, still feeling somewhat annoyed, said, “Why do you want me?”
The man told how that ever since that night when he had spoken to him, he had had no rest, but was in continual fear of dying in his sins.
It was a great joy to our friend H— to point this awakened sinner to a Saviour in whom he could put his heart’s confidence.
The light broke in upon him, and he was so overjoyed that he was willing and anxious to return and work for the farmer just for his food, and without wages; but the farmer was wise, and thought it better for him to return alone, and he promised him nothing as to the future.
This happened on Friday. On the following Monday the man was loading hay, when suddenly the horse gave a start, pitching the poor fellow to the ground, resulting in his death.
Some years after this our farmer friend, H—, had a number of pea-pickers working in his fields. One day they were stopped in their work by a thunderstorm, and took shelter in the barn. Mr. H—, like the out-and-out Christian that he is, thought that this would prove a good opportunity to speak to them of the Saviour. So he quickly turned his steps in that direction, and, opening the door, found them engaged with the ordinary topics of the day.
He asked if he might tell them a story, and, gaining their ear, he told them what I have narrated, and possibly more. When he had finished an old man by the door rose, and with tears running down his face said, “You do not know what comfort your words have given me today. That man was my son. His mother and myself have prayed for his conversion for years, and now to know that our wayward son was saved at last is almost more than I can bear.”
The two thanked God together, and I will leave the reader to guess how delighted the old man was to carry the news just received to his aged and sorrowing wife.
And now a word with my unsaved reader. Why have I narrated this story? My object is your eternal blessing. I would warn the unrepentant of the solemn fact that the Lord’s words are still true: “If ye believe not that I am He, ye shall die in your sins.” (John 8:2424I said therefore unto you, that ye shall die in your sins: for if ye believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins. (John 8:24).)
Let the foregoing true incident be both warning and encouragement to you. Warning, because you are in similar danger to the young man of whom we have written, and may be as near your end; and, if out of Christ, what an end! Encouragement, because the same Saviour, who met and saved this wanderer, waits to welcome and save you. Whatever your past may be, whatever your condition now, we can with confidence say, COME. He has said, “Come unto Me,” and, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.” He means it, and longs to welcome even you.
Be wise in time. Throw down your arms of rebellion. Yield to the Saviour. You will never regret it. He, who saves, will keep right on to the end.
C. J. R.