Chapter 1
a PARTING COMMISSION.
THE year 1873 was drawing towards its close, when a number of mutual friends gathered on the platform of one of our railway stations. We had come to say "Farewell" and bid "God speed" to some of the Lord's children who were just leaving Edinburgh for abroad. The foreign-bound travelers consisted of a lady, her youngest daughter and an attendant, proceeding now to join three other members of the family in a lovely part of the West Indies. Just ere the train departed, my friend called me to the carriage window, and, with all the tearful earnestness of a mother's love, said,—
“You will keep your eye on Johnny, won't you? Promise me you will.”
To this I readily assented, adding,—
“But you know, young men do not much care to be looked after by those like me.”
The next moment the train moved off, leaving the subject of this last request in our midst.
His position as House-physician in the Infirmary prevented his going with the party to the port of embarkation to see the last of his mother and sister. While they sailed he was to remain in Edinburgh for a few months, and then, having added to his professional acquirements by a visit to the London and Continental seats of medicine, was to rejoin his mother in the before-named far-off isles, where already a bright vista of success and honor lay open before him.
Johnny was the youngest son of his mother—she a widow—and but a few months previously had graduated in medicine at the University of Edinburgh, shortly after attaining his majority.
Tall, slender, singularly muscular and agile, his well developed physique would have drawn the attention of a stranger, apart from the handsome face and head which his broad shoulders supported. His face was very attractive, for the natural grace of the regular and finely-chiseled features, and aquiline nose, was enhanced by a sparkling pair of eyes, brimful of merriment; while constantly the expression varied, and a pleasant smile sat ever on the countenance. His light brown hair, crisp, curly, and short cut, gave him the appearance of being what he was—a thorough-going man in every sense of the word.
Possessed of mental powers far beyond the average, which enabled him quickly to acquire, and easily to retain, whatever he set himself to master, he carried likewise within a tender and affectionate heart, only more powerful than the iron will which knew no controlling force, save when those affections were appealed to. Firmness and tenderness were each in full force, while his bright buoyant disposition, affability, and easy, graceful manners, coupled with a readiness to do anyone a good turn, made him at once, whether at home, at school, at college, or in society, by universal suffrage, that which he deservedly was a general favorite.
It was with mingled feelings of pleasure and pain that the Christian mother parted from the handsome young Doctor, for while there was so much over which nature could rejoice, there was in his case, she well knew, and he also, the one thing lacking which most her heart desired for her son—the knowledge of Jesus as Savior and Lord, and the yielding of the heart, yea, of himself, to Him. This I knew also, for I had been well acquainted with dear J—all through his student career, and many a time he had heard me preach the Gospel. On several occasions we had spoken freely and closely on the matter of the soul's salvation; but, though sometimes interested, it always ended in his relegating the necessity of deciding for Christ to a future day.
Enjoyment of the world shut out the claims of Christ; a poor choice surely, as the sequel will show.
Chapter 2
a FOOTBALL MATCH AND ITS FRUIT.
THE parting wish of my friend did not escape my memory, and I was pleased, soon after his mother left, to see the young Doctor appear at the Gospel meeting on the Lord's day evening; but plenty of work filled up his time within the hospital, and mine without, so we rarely met, till the month of February, 1874, when an accident which befell him drew us together.
Johnny was a great athlete. It mattered not what line he went in for, he was sure to be head and chief. One of the best all-round cricketers in Scotland, scarcely finding an equal in flat racing, and long and high jumping, his favorite game was football, at which he was such an adept, that a team was counted almost sure of a victory that had him in its ranks; proof of all which stood, on every hand, in his rooms, in the shape of numerous prizes of every description. His fearless play cost him dear. During the progress of a football match, late in January, he came into collision with an opponent, and was flung violently to the ground, receiving a severe and painful injury to one of his Knee-joints. Undaunted by the sickening pain he rose, and endeavored to continue play, an attempt which was followed by a dead faint, in which he was carried off the field, and thence conveyed to his rooms in the Infirmary.
Of this circumstance I did not hear till the middle of February, when, one Saturday evening, a note, penciled by a strange hand, at his request, summoned me to his bedside.
Hastening to the Infirmary, I found the once stalwart man more helpless than an infant. The injury to the knee-joint, though at first seeming of but trivial importance, had paved the way for one of the most acute attacks of rheumatic fever I ever witnessed. The injured limb was cradled in a Salter's swing; every other joint was pained and powerless, the only motion possible being that of rolling the head from side to side. Severe pain at the heart told the tale of mischief working in and round that often-before overstrained organ, while the acid moisture that literally gushed from every pore of the skin, kept one nurse constantly employed in vain endeavors to dry the face and brow.
He thanked me for coming, and after getting the details I have just given, and expressing my sorrow at finding him in such a 'case, I inquired if in any way I could serve him, and why he had sent for me.
“Monday, the 16th, will be the mail day, and I want you to write to my Mother," was his reply.
To this I most gladly assented, noted what he wished said, and then added,—
“And may I tell her that you have found the Lord? She will be sure to want to know that.”
He quickly turned his face to the wall, while involuntary tears rolled down his cheeks as he answered, "I wish I could say that; I would give all the world, if I had it, to find Him: but I fear its too late now.”
“Not at all," I replied, "it is never too late while you are in life. He is willing to have and to save you, and His word says, 'Now is the accepted time; behold, Now is the day of salvation.' Do you, my dear Johnny, really want to have Christ? This is the only open question.'
His answer was very like himself.
“I have been praying to God all day. I am now anxious to find Christ, and to be saved, but I fear it's no use. Besides, it's a cowardly thing to turn now. I know it's only the fear of death that makes me turn.'
Much more conversation ensued, during which he opened his mind fully to me, and I sought to open to him, as simply as I could, God's way of salvation, viz. the atoning work and blood shedding of the Lord Jesus on the one hand, and the sinner's simple acceptance by faith of God's offered mercy—apart from all his own works or feelings—on the other.
Having read the Word, and prayed with him, I then left, with instructions to say to his mother that now at length he was "really anxious to be saved.”
Dear reader, I wonder whether these last five words ex. press your state. If so, read on.
Chapter 3
“IS THERE NOTHING TO DO BUT BELIEVE?”
FOR many days dear Johnny's life hung in the balance as the fever ran its painful and wearisome course; at length the corner seemed to have turned, and those who were in constant attendance on him looked confidently for ultimate recovery.
During the space of a month from the first night I saw him in his sickness, I visited him constantly, to speak of Jesus, and press on him the urgent necessity of at once receiving Christ. Other servants of Christ also had access to him, and I doubt not were used of God in deepening the convictions, which it was evident to any soul-winner, he was passing through.
A favorite nurse who had charge of the wards under his care, by his own request, late in his illness, was deputed to attend him.
Soon after this, noticing that he was reading a collection of Gospel narratives and papers entitled, "Crumbs for the Hungry," she said to him,—
“Do you know, Doctor, that it has been reported all through the house that you are converted?”
“Yes," he replied, "I wish it were true; I wish I were converted.”
That wish was soon to be gratified, to his joy and ours.
By the mail of 2nd March, he had sufficiently rallied to be able to pen a few lines to his mother, telling her of his hope of full and rapid recovery. Perhaps the exertion of this may have been too much for his exhausted frame; but, be it as it may, within a few days bad symptoms again set in, and hopes gave place to the gravest apprehension on the part of those who watched him, when, on Friday, the 13th, vomiting of the most intractable character set in, and lasted persistently day and night till the end.
This day I saw him, still unsaved; but his physical condition was such that I could say but a few words, pointing him again to the Lord Jesus as the friend of sinners. Pressure of work quite prevented an intended visit on the Saturday; but on Lord's Day afternoon an uncontrollable impulse led me, spite of much hindrance, to his bedside.
A glance told me that Death had marked him as an early victim. To me it seemed now, or never. By his request we were left alone.
Daylight was fading, but just enough remained to permit me to read from my little pocket Testament the lovely tale of the return of the wanderer, and the welcome he received (Luke 15:11-3211And he said, A certain man had two sons: 12And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. 13And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. 14And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. 15And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. 16And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. 17And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! 18I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, 19And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. 20And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. 21And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. 22But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: 23And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: 24For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry. 25Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing. 26And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant. 27And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. 28And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and entreated him. 29And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: 30But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. 31And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. 32It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found. (Luke 15:11‑32).) Dear J—listened as he had never done before; he owned his sin, his misspent life, his often-stifled convictions when in health, his ill treatment of Christ, and of the grace of God. He had "come to himself," on the verge of the grave. "Repentance toward God," was manifest in the way he judged himself, and the whole, past in view of God and Eternity. "Faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ" was as yet, however, wanting.
Turning to Paul's 1st Epistle to Timothy, I read once and again to him that blessed 15th verse—resting place of countless weary, self-judged hearts and empty sinners; "THIS IS A FAITHFUL SAYING, AND WORTHY OF ALL ACCEPTATION, THAT CHRIST JESUS CAME INTO THE WORLD TO SAVE SINNERS, OF WHOM I AM CHIEF." Its sweetness and fullness the Holy Ghost applied in power to his soul, and he saw that Christ had come for such as he—sinners. One difficulty remained: he had done nothing good in God's sight—plenty of that which he now, and truly, judged bad. Satan, fearful to lose a victim, suggested the necessity of his doing something. To this I cited the case of the dying thief, saved in the very jaws of death, unable to do ought but fear God, judge himself, confess Christ, and cast himself unreservedly on Him (Luke 23:39-4339And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. 40But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? 41And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss. 42And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. 43And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise. (Luke 23:39‑43)), and reminded him of the dying words of the blessed Lord, "It is finished.”
There was a moment's pause, and then the final query fell from his lips, " But, Doctor, is there nothing to do but believe?"
“BELIEVE ON THE LORD JESUS CHRIST, AND THOU SHALT BE SAVED," was my only reply.
The setting sun gave me just light enough to see that with clasped hands, and eyes closed to all earthly scenes, his lips were moving in prayer. “Behold, he prayeth," is a great word for God to say of a sinner on earth (Acts 9:1111And the Lord said unto him, Arise, and go into the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas for one called Saul, of Tarsus: for, behold, he prayeth, (Acts 9:11)).
It is the moment of deliverance.
A minute or two after he turned his head to me, as tears filled his eyes, and softly said,—
“I believe Him now. I can trust Him now. I see it all."
Peace filled his heart, and praise filled mine, while deeper and fuller than either was the joy in heaven over this younger son, about whom the Father could say, " This my son was dead, and is alive again ; he was lost and is found." (Luke 15:2424For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry. (Luke 15:24).)
He begged me to kneel and thank God for His abundant mercy to him in thus saving him. This done, I left him, with a restful look on his Wasted; yet still handsome countenance, that had never been seen there before.
Chapter 4
“WILL HE LET ME SLIP AT THE LAST?”
LATE visit on Lord's Day evening, and one early on Monday morning, gave me glad confirmation as to dear Johnny's simple and real faith in the Lord. He now begged I would be with him as much as possible, and a promise of an evening visit was a comfort to him. In the afternoon his strength rapidly gave way, and now, for the first time, I think, he himself laid aside all hopes of recovery.
This evidently led to a touching scene between him and the nurse I have already mentioned, which she narrated to me two days afterward.
Some time before I saw him at night he had sent for her, and on her entering the room at once said, "Helen, go down on your knees, and give me both your hands." This she did, when he went on: "Promise me, Helen, that if I die, you will never cease seeking salvation till you find it.”
Bursting into tears at this appeal, she sobbed, “I am too great a sinner.”
"No," he rejoined: “remember, no one is too great a sinner to find salvation. I thought so too till yesterday, when Dr. W—led me to know and believe, that I was not too great a sinner for Jesus to save.”
Noticing her tears, he added,—
"Don't cry for me; I am going to heaven. Promise to meet me there. Don't believe in works, Helen; believe simply in Jesus."
Thus, immediately, did the new-born one seek the blessing of others: finest proof of grace really tasted.
A little respite in his sickness now ensuing, she endeavored to cheer him, saying,—
“You are a little better, Doctor; try and bear up. Perhaps you will get better yet. Many a prize you have won, and many an honor gained—”
Putting out his wasted hand he interrupted her, motioned her to silence, and then said: "Now I have gained the crown of glory. I am dying, and I am not afraid to die. I am dying happy.”
When I reached him between ten and eleven p.m., I saw a very great change since the morning. He welcomed me with a sweet smile, and—
"I'm so glad you have come.”
The nurses leaving us alone, I got by his side, and then softly said,—
"Going home, Johnny?”
"They think I'm dying," he replied. "What do you think?”
"It looks very like it, dear.”
“Yes, I think so too," he quietly rejoined.
“And you are going to Jesus?”
He turned his lustrous eyes on me, and inquired,
“Do you think He will let me slip at the last?”
“Not He," I said, "it is not like Him.”
“But I have known Him such a short while”
“Never mind that; you do know Him?”
“Yes.”
“And trust Him simply?”
“Yes.”
There was a slight pause, and then, the enemy making a final assault on this babe in Christ, he took my hand in both his own emaciated one-i, and with a wistful gaze right into my eyes that I can never forget, added,—
“But, Doctor, are you sure he won't let me slip, just at the very last?”
"Listen to His own words," I rejoined. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I GIVE UNTO THEM ETERNAL LIFE; and they SHALL NEVER PERISH, NEITHER SHALL ANY (man or devil) PLUCK THEM OUT OF MY HAND. My Father, which gave them me, is GREATER THAN ALL; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand' (John 10:27-2927My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: 28And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. 29My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. (John 10:27‑29)). There, will that do?”
The cloud was dispelled, the enemy routed by “the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; " and as the sweetest smile of contented joy broke over his wasted countenance, he pressed my hand firmly, and said: "Yes, His will be done; but oh, comfort my mother!”
Much more passed that I need not relate, save to add that now, in the full light of eternity so near at hand, he again reviewed his life, only to judge it, while extolling the mercy of God which had met and saved him at the last moment of his earthly history.
On my asking him if he was dying happily, he re-plied,—
“Yes, quite happily; nevertheless, I should have liked to have lived a little while, to serve and please the Lord.”
A parting message to his mother, and an assurance, with his love, that he would meet her in heaven, though never more on earth, exhausted his strength; and at his request, I again thanked the Lord for his salvation, and then, being called away, left him, promising to return at midnight.
Chapter 5
“THE LORD HATH NEED OF HIM.”
THESE were the words on which A—'s eye fell on the morning of Tuesday, 17th March, 1874, as she referred to the Scripture Almanack for the verses for the day.
Turning to her elder sister, she exclaimed,—
“Johnny is dead!”
The sisters, with their mother, had received the first tidings of his illness a week previous to this date, and naturally were most anxious for each fortnightly mail. The Lord, in His tender mercy, took this wondrous way of breaking the news of joy and sorrow. Never were wordy more prophetic, and more precious.
Midnight had passed, and Tuesday, 17th, had begun its course with us when I got back to the Infirmary. My young friend was rapidly sinking. Though racked with pain, he listened gratefully through the night to the verses of Scripture I whispered in his ear, and would oft reply,—
“Tell me more; tell me more.”
His last words to me, spoken about 7 a.m., soon after which he became unconscious, were,—
“If I die, all is well.”
With his head resting in my hands, He gently breathed his last at 7:25 a.m., and his spirit leaving the now much-altered tenement, passed to be "forever" with that Lord whose grace he had tasted on earth for but six-and-thirty hours.
Round his bed stood his grandmother, two friends, three nurses, and a kind fellow-resident physician, who had most tenderly and assiduously watched him day and night through his long illness; and as we thanked God for the eternal salvation, at the twelfth hour, of him who had just left our midst, not an eye was dry, not a heart that was not touched to its depths.
The dying request, "Comfort my mother," suggested the wording of the message which the telegraph wires in due course carried abroad: "Seventeenth. Johnny departed peacefully in Christ"—tidings which at once would break and bind again the mother's heart, telling, as it did, of her loss, his gain, and God's mighty, faithful grace, and answer to those countless prayers which, until now, had apparently laid unanswered on His table. Christian mothers, go on praying for your unconverted sons!
As long as memory endures will the scene of the beloved young graduate's interment abide. The tidings of his death produced universal regret through the University, not to speak of the sorrow, and expressed sympathy for his family, of numberless friends by whom he was loved both in town and in country. His compeers and fellow-students resolved on a public funeral. Four abreast, some six or seven hundred young men preceded the hearse, while on foot behind came the Resident Physicians and Surgeons of the Infirmary, and then a long string of carriages.
Perhaps, never again will the quiet and picturesque Dean Cemetery witness such a concourse round an open grave, as stood there that lovely Friday afternoon.
Funeral services are uncommon in Scotland, but just before the coffin was lowered, as the sun in warmth and brilliancy flung its rays full on the scene, nature the while restraining song of bird and sound of wind, so that a vast silence reigned over the mute assembly, the voice of prayer and thanksgiving was heard ascending. Thanks were rendered on account of him who was gone, sustaining grace and ministry of Divine sympathy besought for the sorrowing mother and family, and present and eternal blessing for the many young men who knew him in life, and now witnessed the last of him on earth, invoked.
Then was read, " And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people. Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still, And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother." (Luke 7:11-1511And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people. 12Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her. 13And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not. 14And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. 15And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. (Luke 7:11‑15).)
The parallel and contrast between that day and this was shortly pointed out. Then, the blessed Lord comforted the widow by giving life to her son, but only for time. This day, how much deeper and fuller was the comfort He was ministering to the widowed mother, in first giving eternal life to the young man, and then, with a full consciousness of where he was going, taking him home, to be forever with Himself. Each heart responded to this, so then turning to the many who had known him well, I said: "You know how he lived, let me tell you how he died. The qualities which caused him to be loved by all, and envied by none, give no ground for acceptance with God: that alone is found, where he found it, in the blood of Jesus.”
The details I have already given were mainly presented, followed by an earnest appeal to all who were yet undecided for Christ, to at once turn to Him, receive forgiveness of sins, and eternal life through faith in His name, and then live for Him who died for us. Never saw I more young men with bowed heads, moved hearts, and melted feelings. What the result may be, the day of the Lord alone can declare.
The remains were then laid in their last earthly resting place; precious seed, sown in faith, soon to spring up in resurrection bloom and unfading beauty, when He comes for whom we wait; for truly saith the Scripture, "Sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory;" and "We know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.”
And now, dear reader, permit me to ask, how stands it between thee and the Lord? Art thou still on the world's side? Art thou still a wanderer from God? Let me beseech thee no longer to do thyself harm. Young man—and it is for thee mainly that I have written these pages—wilt thou not now turn to the Lord? Venture not on delay, I pray thee. Because God's sovereign grace gave the one of whom I have written space to repent, and time to believe on a death-bed, is that an argument why thou shouldst delay? Nay. Beware! lest, cut down suddenly, the same mercy be not extended to thee.
Hast thou a lease of life? No. Then is there the more urgent reason why, as thou readest this, thou shouldst bow to the Lord Jesus, and believe Him simply. God loves thee. Christ has died for sinners such as thee. The Holy Spirit waits to seal the new-born soul that trusts in Jesus. Come to Him now, then. Surely the years now past may suffice to have wrought thine own will; begin this new one with God. Let 1876 be the year to which in eternity thou canst point back, and say with heart-felt joy, Then, I came to the Lord. Fear not to cast thyself simply on Him. None are too bad for Jesus to save. Let the faithful saying, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners," since it is “worthy of all acceptation," have thy acceptation on the very spot where now thou readest this tale of God's grace to one like thyself.
The Lord, in His abundant goodness, grant a present blessing to every young man who may read the foregoing narrative of His mercy!