A Letter to a Class of Sunday Scholars.
My Dear Young Friends,
Thomas H―, the subject of this letter, was born about eleven years ago. He was quite blind, and for some time was in the Asylum for the Blind at Bristol. At that time he was utterly careless about the things of God, and so he continued till March last, when he spent the day with some Christian friends who were at a watering-place. They saw that Thomas’s health was failing, and sent for his mother, who took him down to them; but he became worse, and was taken home. Now it was he began to feel he was a sinner, and that he must shortly appear before a holy God. These thoughts troubled him exceedingly; and many and bitter were the tears he shed. Satan, too, was very busy, telling him it was too late. Oh, it was a sad time for the little blind boy; but many prayers were offered for him, which were heard and answered. In spite of all Satan’s whisperings, he had great confidence in prayer.; and what should you think he wished his kind friends to pray for? It was this— “Just ask the Lord to give me a little strength that I may go to chapel in the morning.” His wish was complied with, and he felt composed. The morning came, but he was so weak and ill that his mother thought it impossible; but Tom thought differently, and said, “Mother, I must go; it will do me good.” He was dressed and carried there, being much too weak to walk. He had not walked for some time. Should you not like to have seen him, dear children? A poor blind boy, so weak and ill, and yet so thirsting for the living God that he must be taken up out of his bed to be carried to a prayer meeting. Don’t you think it was a more beautiful sight than any that were to be seen last Monday or Tuesday? Yes, even the angels must have admired it. Thomas was taken home refreshed both in mind and body. He said he felt it good to be there; but still he was not satisfied; he felt he was not clothed in that “best robe” in which the saved sinner appears before God; and once more he desired those around him to pray for him. This was about five o’clock in the evening. He had been in deep thought all day. After prayer, and reading the Word, he lay very quiet, and at a quarter past six Jesus himself drew nigh, and did for this poor child what you had so beautifully set before you some time ago. First, he showed him that he had cleansed him; then, that he had clothed him; and then, that he was about to crown him. This was joy to the poor child, who said, “I have never felt anything like this before. I have but one wish now—to be forever with the Lord, who has washed me in his own precious blood. I have no fear of dying, or going to hell; my fears are gone, and now I want to depart and to be with Jesus.” In this state of mind he continued; and whatever he desired it was “Just ask the Lord.” If in violent pain, “Just ask the Lord to give me a little ease;” or, if he needed sleep, “Just ask the Lord to give me a short sleep;” and soon after his friends would hear him say, “Bless his dear name, that prayer is answered.” On Tuesday morning last he had convulsions, but was soon relieved, and became sweetly calm and composed—so much so that they thought he would linger some time. His mother was sitting by him, and heard him exclaim, “What?” She looked, and he was gone; his spirit had fled; and she believes that his eyes, which had never seen the light of day, were at that moment opened to see the glories that awaited him. Yes, he now knows, in its blessed fullness, “what it is to be there.” May you also know it, dear children. “Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.”