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About This Product
Gospel story of a lady who thought she was good enough for heaven.
Excerpt:
For many weeks I had been visiting regularly in one special ward of the— Hospital, but though I was in the ward always once, often twice, during the week, there was one bed that I had always passed by, or rather, I should say, I had never spoken to its occupant.
Sometimes the patient in it was asleep, sometimes her head was turned away and her eyes closed as soon as I came near her bed, at other times she would call a nurse to do something for her at that very moment, but at all times there was on her face a cold, hard, stony look that seemed only varied by a satirical smile, and which effectually deterred me from trying to speak to her.
Often I left flowers, occasionally a gospel story, on her little locker by her bedside; now and then, when I heard her coughing much, I had put some grapes there too as I passed out of the ward; but even if awake she never showed by any sign or sound of any kind that she had heard me, and it was almost a relief to me that no one had called my special attention to her, so repelled was I by the expression of her face.
She was a woman of nine-and-twenty, with fine regular features, a broad forehead, and large gray eyes. It was an intelligent face—that you saw at once: but its cold, cynical expression made it anything but a pleasing one.
Possibly had the ward been a smaller one it would have troubled me more to pass her by thus week after week, but it was very large, and so many were eagerly looking for a visit. Some because they knew the Lord, and it comforted them to be spoken to of Him whom their souls loved; others because they were thirsting for the water of life, yet could not believe that all they had to do was to drink it, for it was flowing freely all around them. Others again, though really caring for none of these things, were sick and lonely, and sometimes friendless too, and a friendly voice and words of sympathy, or a listening ear to their tales of suffering and woe, brought a little bit of sunlight to cheer them, or, at any rate, varied the monotony of the day, and made them willing to hear of one Friend, the Friend of sinners, whose ear was ever open to them, who was listening for their cry of need to go up to Him, who wanted not merely to help but to save them.