Those who are conversant with the north of England will doubtless have been struck with the character of its scenery. The hills are lofty and bold. Sometimes at a great elevation there is an extensive table land, chiefly moor and unenclosed, stretching out for several miles. The scenery varies into rugged and rocky defiles, leading into fertile meadows, which again give place to ruder features.
I was led into such a neighborhood as answers to the former description. The village was situated on the edge of a moor, which extended some distance. The country was wild in the extreme, and the population not a little like it. Nature had not been prodigal of charms to the country, nor had civilization done much for the people. They were rude and rough, yet hearty. I had an open door to witness to the grace of God, and a willing audience.
I was kindly invited to partake of refreshment at the house of a newly-married couple, where hospitality was as cheerfully bestowed as it was cordially received. Whilst at tea, a young woman entered, from the neighborhood; and as I was speaking of God’s grace to some individuals I had met with, she said she had just left some one dying, who stood greatly in need of it. I need not say that I volunteered a visit immediately.
We went together; and, on entering the house, found a poor woman propped up in bed. The impress of death was on her features, and it needed but little skill to discern that her days were numbered; indeed, her time could be reckoned by hours. A very few words introduced my errand and myself. Her danger quickened her apprehension, and she asked imploringly if I could do anything for her soul.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “If I might but live, how different would I be in future. I have not done as I ought, and now I am dying; Lord have mercy upon me!”
Here I found soil ready prepared for the casting in of the seed. The Spirit of God had revealed her condition; conviction was wrought in the mind. Would not God permit the balm to be applied to her wounds?
I sat beside her, and, as simply as I could, put before her the grace of God in the gift of a Saviour, and how Jesus was such indeed.
She listened with agonizing attention, only interrupted by the occasional change of position to relieve her breathing.
After prayer, I withdrew to the preaching, which was to commence at six o’clock.
The audience was already assembled. When the service was concluded, it rained in torrents, and I had the prospect of a twelve miles’ ride over the moors, before I should reach my abode for the night. I could not, however, hurry away. This poor woman was laid upon my heart, and I again sought her cottage before leaving the neighborhood.
I found her pretty much as I had left her, as to bodily suffering. I inquired if she had considered over what had been advanced on my previous visit.
She replied, she had done so, as much as her pain would allow. “But I want something more; I feel I am not prepared to die! Lord have Mercy upon me! Oh, if he would but spare me a few days, that I might repent.”
“My good woman,” I replied, “days, months, or years, would not make your condition or salvation more secure. ‘The word is nigh thee... that if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved’” (Rom. 10:6-11).
Still the veil was over her mind. She groaned in very bitterness of spirit, “I have neglected the chief thing for which I came into the world. O Lord! have mercy on me.”
“Cannot you give me any ease, sir?” she said, appealing to me.
“Yes, my good woman,” I replied; “you know if you were traveling by the railway to any place, you must have a ticket to pass you. And now you are traveling from time to eternity, and there is a ticket that will pass you.”
“Heigh!” she exclaimed, “do tell me what it is?”
I replied, “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth from all sin.”
“Will that pass me?” she eagerly inquired. “It will, indeed,” I said.
“Do let me learn it by heart.” And she endeavored to learn this heavenly passport by heart, making such efforts to speak as her strength would allow, until she could repeat it word for word. Strange as it may appear, this cost her some effort.
The rain beat in torrents against the window. The wind howled in the doorway. Nature was boisterous without; but this strange scene of a dying woman ( in the very article of death) seeking to learn a text of God’s word, as a child does its catechism, absorbed all my attention.
I waited the result. My dying pupil laid hold of the letter; might not God apply it in power by His Spirit to her soul! I prayed with her, and left her.
Her last imploring appeal was, “It will pass me, won’t it?”
Unhesitatingly I answered her that it would; for surely the word of God presenting the Holy Spirit’s testimony to the efficacy of the blood of Jesus, will indeed pass any poor sinner who lays hold of it by faith.
She died two days afterward. Yet before she expired, the Spirit bare witness with her spirit, that the blood of Jesus Christ indeed cleanses from all sin. She felt, as she said, “it would pass her”; and as if the assurance of her safety might be really indulged, she remarked to those about her, “If the Lord did but suffer me to live three months, I have gotten such hold of the truth, I could convert all the house.”
She sleeps in Jesus.
J. W.