“DO ask God to make you feel your sinfullness,” said we the other day to a dying woman. “I am too weak to think,” was her reply.
Only the day before we had asked her if she were ready to die, and this was her reply: “I hope so.” “And why?” “Because my life has been a tolerably good one.” “But,” we said, “have you never committed one sin? Were you never angry with your child? Did you never forget God? If you have committed but one sin, that one sin will keep you out of heaven.”
Alas! the death-sleep of the soul had set in―she was past arousing―and on her last day on earth she was “too weak to think!”
“ON my giving J. W. some text-cards,” says a friend, “he called his wife, and they both looked over them, and he arranged with her which should be for his boys, John and Richard. ‘I’ll leave them these to remember me by,’ he said. ‘Some of the boy: will only care for these texts for my sake now, perhaps; but I have prayed for then all, and I believe they will all come.’
“ ‘He doesn’t rest, even there on his dying bed,’ said his wife; ‘he sends for the old boon companions’― ‘who used to drink and swear and fight with me,’ broke in the poor fellow.’ ‘Everyone has come to see him,’ the wife added, ‘and at least five have been to the mercy-seat.’”
“While I was present, at the dinner hour three of his old companions―black foundrymen―came in. They fell on their knees in the little kitchen, into which his room opens, and prayed, in words straight from their hearts, and when they arose there were great white channels down their blackened cheeks. Poor J.’s weak voice, frequent cough, and short breath were pitiful, but his face was radiant. I never saw anything like it.
“He has a prayer meeting at six, when the men have done their work. Fifteen came last night — rough fellows, who never enter church or chapel―and poor dying J. told them of the Saviour of sinners.”
“HE was cut down in a moment, in the very bloom of life; he had not even time to say ‘Good-bye’ to me, or to tell me where he was going,” sobbed a widow recently. “Oh! it does seem so dreadful to die thus,” she added.
“HE wanted to say ‘Good-bye!’ a lover of souls writes.” I gave him my hand, and promised to meet him in the better land. Then he prayed for me: ‘O Jesus, be with her every step of the way. O Jesus, be with her in the hour of death, as Thou art with me, in the great waters and waves. Oh, bless her, Lord Jesus.’
“I never heard a prayer so unmistakably a heart-cry.”
“ARE you ready for eternity?” we inquired of a young woman as she lay upon her dying bed. She had but a few more hours to live. This was her answer: “I am almost forgiven” Almost! almost!
“I THOUGHT I was going home this morning, but am disappointed again,” said a young girl of sixteen.
“Afraid to die?” she continued. “Oh, no. How can I be? What can hurt me? I’m not going alone; God has so many angels, ministering spirits, He can spare more than one when even a beggar dies to carry him home.”