SEVERAL years ago there lived in the city of Edinburgh a family, ―decent, in fair circumstances, religious, and members of the kirk. It consisted of the father, three daughters, his wife their mother, and old Grannie, the wife’s mother, who had come to end her days in the house of her son-in-law, or “guid-son,” as he is called in Scotch.
Grannie was an old Highland woman, who could not read a single line, and spoke but little of the English tongue; but she was converted very early in life, and had an ample store of Scripture in her memory; so much so, that when a well-known minister and Gaelic scholar visited her, he was wont to say, “There is no use in coming to see you, you can preach to me, Grannie.”
Her piety was very fervent, her love for the Lord was real, and prayer seemed to be the habit and joy of her soul. Touching it was, to stand at her room door, and listen to the fervent effectual prayer, in the Gaelic tongue, for every member of the family. The father of the house would stand and listen, and then turn to his wife and children, and say, “Now she has prayed for you all.”
For one she prayed constantly―a son of hers, who went to America forty years ago. His name would be laid again and again before the God that heareth and answereth prayer.
The mother of the family―Grannie’s daughter―was a very religious woman, a member of an evangelical body, diligent in attending the means of grace, regular at the kirk, never missing a Sacrament Sunday. When great preachers came to the city, and if there were stirring times, and earnest addresses on gospel subjects, there she was sure to be found.
Besides, she was kind-hearted to the poor. Many a widow and orphan received of her hidden charity, and blessed her name. But nevertheless, with all her prudence, piety, and charity, she was unsaved, ―a stranger to the true knowledge of God and His grace. Uncertainty and doubt and fear filled her bosom.
In process of time she fell sick, and her sickness was indeed unto death. The doctor said the disease was cancer, and naturally gloom and sorrow filled the home once so bright and cheerful. This was a sore blow to dear old Grannie; but God, who had been her resource, was still the stay of her soul. To the bedside of her dying child she would come, and prayer, silent prayer, ascended to her Father and God that He would save, in mercy, the daughter of her love, and now more than ever the subject of her cries and groans to God, ―that now He would show to her His salvation, ere she left this world, and entered the domain of eternity.
One night long and earnestly she prayed by the bedside of the dying one. Her whole soul poured itself out in supplication and entreaty and at length she seemed assured that she had won the ear of God by her importunity. All of a sudden she started from her knees, repeating the words of Psalms 118:21, 2221I will praise thee: for thou hast heard me, and art become my salvation. 22The stone which the builders refused is become the head stone of the corner. (Psalm 118:21‑22), ―
“This is the gate of God, by it
The just shall enter in;
Thee will I praise, for Thou me heard’st,
And hast my safety been.”
Grannie quoted the metrical Scotch version, but in prose they are exceedingly beautiful: “This [is the] gate of the Lord, into which the righteous shall enter; Thee will I praise, for Thou host heard me, and art become my salvation.”
She retired to her little chamber with a look of satisfied desire on her face. Her God was to answer her cry.
That night the sick daughter fell into a soft light slumber. She awoke from her sleep, and called to a friend who waited on her, and said, ―
“I have had such a dream. I had a great dark river to cross. It was far to the other side, and I must cross it, or perish forever. I saw a beautiful boat, but it had left the shore on which I stood. I called to them to come back and take me, but the boatmen heeded not my cries. I screamed again in my agony, Oh, save! oh, save me!’ And all at once, a great strong man lifted me in his arms so powerfully and gently, and placed me, in a moment, in the center of the boat, and at once I was borne across the wide, deep, dark river, and landed safe and sound on the far-away shore. Then, somehow, I knew the great strong man was Jesus. Oh! I am saved! I never was saved before; not my works, but His; not my deeds but His. I never could cross that river of death, but He can carry me safe to the other side.”
That morning brought the welcome news to the old grandame that her prayers were answered. Her daughter was saved! saved by the great strong Man. Death was no longer the king of terrors, but only the ferry-boat to the other side. It was but the valley of the shadow of death.
The few remaining days of the dying one were bright with the sunshine of God’s favor, and the conscious salvation of God. Grannie’s prayers were answered, and praise, only praise, filled her soul to her Saviour-God.
Now both Grannie and her saved daughter sleep in Jesus, and the grass grows over their graves, but, with the Lord, they wait for His coming.
Reader, and friend, do, you tremble at the deep dark river that you must cross? Has the great strong Man, the God-man, put His arms around you, and saved you forever?
J.W.C.