ON our way to the meeting in a little town in Lincolnshire, my friend and I were accosted by a man in great agitation, who told us of a lodger in his house who was apparently dying, in deep concern about his soul; and although many had sought to help him spiritually, yet none had been able to bring “light and peace” to that darkened troubled soul.
After the meeting I called at the house, and found each of its inmates in a state of perplexity and agitation such as I had never before witnessed. I asked the man who had accosted us why they were so troubled, but he seemed not to be able to find words to explain, and the only reply to my questions was this, “You will understand, sir, when you get upstairs.” Hastening upstairs, I soon discovered the reason of that anxiety below; for scarcely had I entered the room when I heard the words at the head of this paper. They fell from the lips of a man I judged to be about fifty years of age, whose shattered frame, sunken eyes, and weak voice seemed to indicate plainly that death had marked him as his victim.
“I know what you have come for,” said he; “you have come to speak to me about my soul; but it is too late, sir; there is nothing but a CHRIST-REJECTER’S HELL FOR ME; I might have been saved, but now I’m lost.”
“But,” said I, “with God there is forgiveness, and the Scripture plainly says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive―’”
All true for others,” he interrupted,” but I have sinned away my day of grace; I have resisted the strivings of the spirit; tell it to others—it is too late for me. There was a time,” he added, “when I ought to have accepted salvation, but I would not yield; God would have saved me, but I would not bow, and now I know where I am going! I am going to hell!”
Again and again did I seek to direct that poor man to God and His grace, to Christ and His finished work. I instanced the dying thief, saved at death’s door, so to speak, but to all that I could say, his reply was, “Too late for me!”
Never before, nor, thank God, since, have I had such an experience! I tried to pray for him, but could not find words! And all that I said seemed to be as powerless as you could possibly conceive. Had it happened to him according to Proverbs 1. “Because I have called and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand and no man regarded... They shall call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me... Therefore they shall eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices”? (Prov. 1:24-3324Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; 25But ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: 26I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; 27When your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. 28Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: 29For that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord: 30They would none of my counsel: they despised all my reproof. 31Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices. 32For the turning away of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. 33But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil. (Proverbs 1:24‑33)). How solemn are the words, “Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.” For “God is NOT MOCKED”!
Feeling powerless to help him, I turned to go. Calling me back, he thanked me for visiting him, and said that others beside myself had done all they could, and added: “I have no one to blame but myself; I have nothing but blackness and darkness before me. I might have been saved, but now I’m lost.”
Calling next day at the house, I was informed that the poor man had been taken to the infirmary, as we supposed, to die.
I leave the subject of this dark picture and turn to a brighter one. My labors in the gospel called me soon after to a large town in Yorkshire, carrying with me the address of a man who, I was informed, was dying of consumption. Finding the way upstairs, I was struck with the similarity of the two bedrooms and their appointments, but how different were the conditions of everything spiritually. The wasted frame, the sunken eye, and the weak voice were here repeated in a man perhaps five years younger than the other; but no sooner did I make an inquiry as to whether he had any concern about his soul’s welfare, than he replied, “THAT IS ALL MY CONCERN, sir; I have been asking God to forgive me my sins for six weeks now.”
How easy it was to sit down and unfold to that desirous soul how God could now righteously forgive his sins, because Christ had atoned for them upon the cross. His one, only eye, seemed to sparkle with gladness as he listened to the tale—the sweet story of the “love of God,” manifested in the “gift of his only begotten Son” (1 John 4:99In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. (1 John 4:9)), and “commended” to us in the death of Christ (Rom. 5:88But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)). Then, turning to the tenth chapter of Romans―that Scripture that our Saviour-God has graciously blessed to thousands of souls―I read from the eighth to the thirteenth verses, dwelling upon the thirteenth verse especially. I just said to him, “That word whosoever takes in Mr. C―lying on this bed,” and then repeated slowly, ‘For — whosoever — shall―call — upon―the — name―of― the― Lord― shall― be―saved.’” Turning his eye from me in child-like simplicity, with clasped hands he looked up and cried, “O LORD, SAVE ME.” Light streamed into his soul immediately, and that burden of sins that had weighed him down, like Bunyan’s Pilgrim, was gone.
Now, my reader, one word to you before I pass on: “Take care that that great load of your sins does not weigh you down to the hell you are getting dangerously nearer every day of your neglectful, procrastinating life.”
Revisiting dear Mr. C― a few days after, I asked him whether he had any doubts as to his forgiveness. “Doubts, sir,” he replied; “none whatever; my load is all gone, and my heart is as light as a feather, and I am only waiting for the Lord to take me home whenever He will, I am quite ready now.” For a fortnight his joy seemed unabated; then he passed away to greater joys above.
My reader, take care that your case be not like that of my first narrative, true in every detail.
“Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ” as dear C — did, and you will gain heaven and escape hell, and have a life to live here for God meanwhile, which is far better than trying to creep into heaven at the last moment, when you cannot have earth any longer.
What an awful discovery to make at the last moment!
Think what it will mean for you, my reader, to have to repeat for all eternity―
“Too late, too late,
I might have been saved, but now I’m lost,
And I’ve no one to blame but myself.”
Turn to God, flee to Christ, eternal joys await you.
Do not miss them, your opportunity is now-
“Now! now! now.!
Tomorrow too late may be,
Oh sinner, come, the Saviour waits
This hour to welcome thee.
Haste! haste! haste!
Delay not from wrath to flee.
Oh, wherefore the moments in madness waste,
Whilst mercy still waits for thee?”
E. E. C.