SOME services pass from one's mind; but somehow one which I held in a very poor district of a great city lives ' in freshness in my memory. I know not why. I was speaking of the first resurrection, and of the fact that such only as those who "are Christ's" when He comes, and such only as those who are "the dead in Christ," would have any part in that glorious event. I pressed this, and spoke of how God had before Him even now a people who are very dear to Him, and of whom He can say "they are Christ's," and that, whether sleeping or waking, these, and only these, would hear the voice of the Son of Man and be caught up to meet Him.
Then the difficulty we might have in knowing who are Christ's people, presented itself. But God knows His own, and when the moment comes, although two might be sleeping in one bed, the one would be taken and the other would be left. Only those who were Christ's would be taken up to meet Him in the clouds, to be forever with Him.
While speaking, I observed a woman sitting on my right hand, in whose eyes the tears glistened. On leaving the mission hall my elderly hearer of the glistening eyes had my overcoat in her hand ready to help me, and I observed that she was the keeper of the room.
On bidding her "Good-night," I said—
“I suppose you are Christ's'?”
There was a pause that told a. tale; and, when the tears once more glistened and fell, she said—
“I cannot say that. I wish I could. If anybody ought to be Christ's, it should be me; but they seem to take it for granted that I am all right.”
“Well," I said, "I did so, too, and it was only your hesitating to answer me, that made me fear you were not. But," I asked, ' What is it that hinders you from saying, ' I am Christ's? '”
“Well, sir," she said, "I don't know. It is so impossible for me to understand what to do.”
“My dear friend," I said, "you have nothing to do for your salvation. Jesus has done all that was needed to bring us to God.”
“I know all about it," she interposed; "but oh! it is dark and mysterious; it applies to everybody but to me.”
“You are a married woman," I said.
Half smiling through her tears, she said, "Aye, twice married.”
“When your first husband came and asked you if you would be his, what did you say?
“I said I would." “And when your second husband asked you, what then?" "I said 'yes' to him, too.”
“My good woman, now the Lord Jesus comes to you at the close of a long life, and He says He will take you for His own, and He will cheer your latest days. He will be with you when you pass through the darkest part of the dark valley. He will do everything for you in time, and bring you to His Father's house, to share His glory and His throne. Now, tonight, He holds out His pierced hand, and, as it were, says, Will you be mine?”
With tears she cried, "O Lord Jesus, I do take Thee to be my Savior! Save me, and keep me, for I have been a poor, miserable, sinful woman.”
Three weeks after, her daughter came to tell me she had passed away very unexpectedly, to be with the Lord whom, during the few weeks, she had gladly confessed.
Are you Christ's?—not, will you take Him now?