A sorrowing mother sent to ask a Christian if he would
go to see her dying son. Yes, he was dying and unsaved; beside this, he was an avowed infidel. The Christian went, and saw the end was very near. He said, “I fear you are very ill indeed.” “Yes, I am,” replied the dying man. “Shall I read to you from the Word of God?” “No! I don’t believe it,” was the answer. “Then I will pray for you.” “No, you need not; I do not wish it.” The servant of God took up his Bible, hoping to gain attention to the offer of salvation through the finished work of Christ to all who believe; but the infidel would not listen to a single word and became much excited. Seeing it was useless to try further thus, in silent prayer he asked for guidance. Turning to the one whose life was fast ebbing away, he said, “Your’s is indeed a sad and solemn case; you have not another hour to live.” “Neither do I wish it,” interrupted the man. “The sooner I die the better; my sufferings are so great.” “Oh! how infinitely greater will they be soon, if you refuse this your last offer of mercy; turn from the Saviour who died for you, and choose the torments of hell for all eternity,” was urged.
“I don’t believe there is a heaven nor yet a hell; again, I say, I don’t believe it.” “But,” said the Christian, you will believe it before you die; ere another hour has passed you will bear testimony to God’s truth that there is heaven and hell. Your dying lips shall proclaim the truth you have denied; you will tell us to which of these places you are going.”
The servant of God now took his place with the watchers around that death-bed. Ten minutes had scarcely passed away before the dying man, with sudden energy, threw back the coverlet, exclaiming three times with solemn emphasis, “I’m on my way to hell!” and immediately expired. G. B.