COMMODORE — was dying. The poisoned arrow shot by the hand of a mere boy at the commodore whilst regaining his vessel after vindicating the rights of his country on a savage shore, had done its work, and slowly but certainly, the end drew nigh.
So he well knew; and he knew, too, that he might yet gaze once more on his country’s shores, and on the face of her he loved, had he steered straight for port. But in those last solemn hours, should he think of himself or of others?
The vessel carried mails — mails which those who had been months without news were eagerly awaiting, and the gallant sailor thought of them. The order was given, and the mail bags were left at one out-of-the-way port after another, as the good ship skirted the land on whose shore her commander might never more set foot.
Of others wounded on this same occasion one after another had succumbed; lock-jaw in each case supervening forty-eight hours before death; yet, strange to say, in his case this was lacking, and up to the last, Commodore — retained the power of speech.
It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight as the dying man lay on deck surrounded by all the crew, which his last order had gathered round him. They knelt closely beside him, or sat in a circle round the dying man. Others stood beyond, whilst others again climbed the rigging and manned the yards — anywhere could they but catch a glimpse of his loved face, or hear his dying message.
“The doctor tells me I must die. Is it not so, doctor?” he asked.
“Yes,” returned the ship’s doctor.
“Is it absent from the body, present with the Lord’?” whispered one who knelt close beside him.
“Yes,” came the response, and then for fully half an hour those dying lips gave one long, fervent appeal to the men he had so often guided — one last address about — what think you, my reader? Their duty to their sovereign? No; his example had taught them that. Their country’s glories, and how they had helped to swell them? Nay, not so. One theme alone filled his heart: one theme alone moved his lips.
The love of God! He spoke of that love: that love which has shown itself in sending its choicest treasure to meet the need of its worst enemy: that love which is toward the sinner, the enemy, the rebel: that love which has found a way of reconciling that enemy, reconciling him, too, in full accord with the strictest righteousness and holiness: that love which planned and carried out that great transaction of which Calvary’s cross is the center, for “he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.”
The love of God manifested there, when His beloved Son was made a propitiation for us, was “shed abroad” in the heart of the dying Commodore, and flowed out from his lips. Who could resist such an appeal?
Then, turning to the one mentioned above, he said, “Don’t be afraid to tell of that love whenever you have opportunity. I know you are not ashamed of it; but, whatever happens, don’t ever be.”
Good advice, Christian friend, for you and me. Loving hands carried him below, and in twenty-four hours Commodore — was with Him who loved him and gave Himself for him.
Friend, couldst thou meet death thus? Dost thou know the love of God, or art thou still in enmity against Him? After death the judgment, if thou despise the provision of that love and reject that God-given and God-appointed Saviour; but those who believe that love have the authority of the Word of God for saying, “Herein is love with us made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in this world.” “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
T.
SOME believers in Jesus are joyless, because they are so little looking to Christ. They are occupied with themselves, their circumstances, their bodies perhaps, something that is not Christ. They have too much of Christ to be able to enjoy the world, and too much of the world to enjoy Christ.
W. T. P. W.