He belonged to the infidels' club, while in health and strength had said, "There is no God" but now, his health had broken down, his strength failing and he is about to cross the border.
Two members of the club, watch by the bedside so as to take back a report of the manner in which he died.
The end draws near, his boasting has vanished, upon his soul falls the shadow of a lost eternity and a sudden fear takes hold of him.
"O, God! I'm lost! I'm lost!" he cries.
His two friends try to allay his fears, saying:
"Hold on, John! Don't show the white feather.”
But poor John replied:
"There's nothing to hold on to! I'm lost! I'm lost!" Thus he died.
Reader! in love for your soul, I beseech you, listen. Your dying hour, too, may be very near; will you be like poor John, and find nothing on which your soul can rest as you cross the cold waters of death.
"I'm not an infidel!" Perhaps not! But are you saved? Do you know your sins were washed away in the precious blood of Christ? If not, you are lost! Poor John realized this when it was too late.
Take warning, reader, don't put this paper aside until you have accepted Christ as your own personal Savior. He is waiting to receive and bless you now.