“LORD Jesus, send Mr. B— in! Lord Jesus, send Mr. B— in!” Over and over, the words fell from the unconscious lips of a dying man; the heart’s deep desire thus finding expression, though weakness and disease had, for the time, dethroned reason.
And wherefore this deep desire, and oft repeated expression of it? A fortnight before they had never met, the old tinker either being away from home in the course of business, when the missionary called; or, if there, refusing to see him. Illness came however—a last illness, and the servant of Christ then found an entrance, and, seated by the old man’s bedside, told him the wonderful story of a Saviour’s love. To his surprise, he found he knew much of the letter of the word of God; and although making excuses for his former refusal to hear, he was now ready to listen to the message of life brought to him.
When the visit closed, he begged it might be repeated. And what passed then in that sick room, situated in a deplorable court in one of the most slummy parts of the town? Angels were looking on, and there was “joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repented.” Long as he had refused to hear it, the message had at last been brought to his ears, and ear and heart had been opened by God the Holy Ghost to hear and to receive it. And there on his dying bed the old tinker passed from death unto life, and knew that he had everlasting life; that his sins—many and black as they had been—were all gone; blotted out by the precious blood of Jesus, and that in a little while this Saviour who had so recently sought and found him, would carry him home to His own presence.
No wonder, then, that he desired once more to see the messenger who had brought such a message to him! And his desire was granted. As evening fell, reason resumed its sway, and at nine o’clock that November night the missionary again stood by the side of the dying man. He saw at once that his hours were numbered, although the welcome he received was most joyous. So after a little inquiry he said: “P—, it is very near the end now. Are you ready to stand in the presence of God? And on what do you ground your hope of acceptance with Him?”
He attempted to answer quickly, but his eagerness brought on a violent fit of coughing, lasting some time; and then slowly, jerking out, as it were, one word at a time, he said “You asked me if I was ready, and what are my hopes. The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanseth me from all sin. You taught me that text; it has been very precious to me, but the best part is the center.”
“What do you mean?” queried his friend. He replied:
“The center is the Lord Jesus, and He is all in all to me.”
Then, at his request, the visitor praised God for His goodness, and asked for the grace needed by the now suffering one.
The next morning he again saw him, to hear from the dying lips that “God had been very good” to him “during the night; very little pain, and perfect peace and rest.”
That evening at seven o’clock, the ransomed soul of the poor tinker left its worn out tenement, and passed into the presence of Him who loved and gave Himself a ransom even for him.
“Blessed is he whose iniquity is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord will not impute iniquity” (Psa. 32:1, 2) We may well write over his grave. But there is another clause to that verse: “And in whose spirit there is no guile.” What is the effect of knowing iniquity forgiven and sin covered? Does the knowledge of justification “freely by His grace”—the blessed assurance that iniquity will never be imputed to me by a holy God, because He imputed it once for all to His sinless Son, when He made His soul an offering for sin—does this knowledge cause one to think lightly of the sins thus atoned for and put away? God forbid!
Two or three days later Mr. B— again visited the cottage—this time to comfort the widow as he supposed. He had a good opportunity of putting the gospel before her and her daughter, and pressed home the wisdom of living for Christ as well as dying, with him Then with great reluctance the old woman gave the last message entrusted to her: “Tell Mr. B— we were not married. I don’t want to appear to be hiding anything. God has pardoned me for Christ’s sake.”
With the light of eternity dawning upon him, with the blessed assurance that the blood of Christ had put away all his guilt, the dying tinker realized how black that guilt was; what his past life (unknown to his neighbors and certainly unknown to his friend) was in God’s sight; and judging it, and judging himself, he dared make such a confession, knowing that even that sin was atoned for and forgiven. No reparation then was possible to her he had so long wronged; no time left for “works meet for repentance” in giving up the long life of sin; but “if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” “I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my trangressions unto the Loan, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.”
T.