"She's dying, and dying fast! She will not speak to any of us. Oh, do get her to tell you where she is going."
The words were spoken from the broken heart of a hard-faced and hard-voiced woman who had always seemed strangely indifferent to the eternal welfare of her young daughter of nineteen. Nov the poor girl's life was fast ebbing away. I listened in silence. No words of comfort would come, for it was not the first time I had seen that mother and urged upon her, as well as upon the daughter, the necessity of coming to Christ. Each time, the message of warning had been rejected. It was the old story of the Savior's love rejected: "How often would I... and ye would not!" Matt. 23:37. And now it seemed too late.
Finding I did not answer, the poor mother continued: "The clergyman has just been, but she would not speak to him. He prayed out of the prayer-book, but Carol kept calling to him to stop. Oh, it was dreadful. Won't you speak to her?"
I went in, feeling sick at heart. The times I had read and spoken to Carol, and the utter indifference on her part, rose up before me. The only thing that had power to rouse this young girl was suggestions of recovery. She would eagerly catch at a straw in the hope of life in this world, while the forever which lies beyond was nothing to her.
Reader, is this world everything to you, also?
"The fashion of this world passeth away"—never to return. And you are passing too—passing out of the world you love—whether you will or not. Solemn fact! Pause in the rush of your life, and ask yourself, "Wither bound?"
Going into the dying girl's room, I found her propped up in a large armchair, several friends, both old and young, gathered around her. Her eyes were closed, and a look of pain on the fair young face. I waited a moment in silent prayer and then said: "Carol, you are fast going into the presence of God. Can you tell us—"
Here she interrupted me by almost screaming, "Don't speak to me!"
Horror fell on all in that room. They looked from one to another, but no one spoke. After a long pause, in the hope that even in the last hour the Word of God would reach her, I repeated these words, "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin."
One in that room responded with a softly whispered, "Thank God!" But the dying girl made no reply. A few hours passed, and all was over. Yes, over! past and gone forever for this life. But what about the next?
My reader, what about the next for you? God has a home for those who love Him. Are you bound for it? There is "no night there." We must be "washed... in the blood of the Lamb" to enter those gates. Reader, are you? Or are you bartering heaven away for this poor world?
Perhaps someone may say, "It's not much of this world I have. I am just trying to make two ends meet.
Times are hard, and I have to work."
It was just with such words as these I was answered the other day. True—quite true. But do not make God out "austere," reaping where He has not sown. God does not come to you to exact anything from you. He comes to give.
"He, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price." Isa. 55: 1.