IN the town of Woolwich some years ago a Christian visited an old man on his death-bed. He was anxious to find out if he was prepared to die.
"Where will your soul go after death?" he questioned.
"To heaven, I hope," was the answer, sadly and doubtfully given.
“Whom do you know in heaven?" was the next question.
He hoped that by way of answer he would mention the Name above every name, the Name that fills heaven with endless praise.
"My mother," was his reply.
The Christian asked him still further, "Whom else do you know in heaven?”
The dying man, upon being pressed, enlarged the circle of his acquaintances in heaven till he had enumerated father, mother, grandparents, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, and ministers.
But THE NAME was never mentioned, and the visitor could only come to the sad conclusion that the old man did not know the Lord. He put the gospel before him, and then left.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and the Christian visitor was returning home down the High Street, when he was startled by the sound of hoofs and the rumble of wheels. Turning round he saw a runaway horse dragging a cab after it, in full flight down the narrow street.
To his horror he saw a little girl right in front of the danger. He dashed forward and snatched her from before the horse's feet, just in time to save her from being run over. "Whatever would have happened to you, my child, if you had been killed?" he exclaimed. Clear as a bell, not sadly and doubtfully, the answer came, "I should have gone to heaven, Sir.”
“Whom do you know there?" he asked. "JESUS, Sir," was her answer.
What need to ask her more?
And you, reader? Do you know Jesus? Not a school child in this favored land but knows about Him. But do you know HIM?
A. J. P.