THE little hamlet of M—, situated in the county of Surrey, consists of a few scattered houses, inhabited by hard-working men and women, and is far away from the rush and din of this busy world, being more than four miles from the nearest station. There lives in this quiet village an old widow whose heart the Lord opened to receive His love and salvation; and having received the grace of God herself, she desired that her neighbors also might have an opportunity of hearing “the old, old story,” and has for many years held her humble cottage at the disposal of the Lord, so that His servants might preach the gospel there.
For several months I had the privilege of proclaiming the way of salvation under her roof; and though our numbers were small, seldom exceeding a dozen, yet God was with us, and I believe almost everyone who attended received definite blessing.
In the little company gathered together to hear the Word was sometimes to be seen the widow’s son, Charlie. I well remember his manly form and fine open countenance, but his pallid face gave warning of the disease that was working within―that terrible foe, consumption. But though it was evident that he was marked out for an early death, he would not allow anyone to speak personally to him about the vital question of his soul’s salvation. Our only resource was to leave him with the Lord, trusting that He would win this soul also as one more trophy of His grace.
After I left the neighborhood, Charlie grew rapidly worse, and at last the doctor told him that the only thing that could save his life was a sea voyage. Having friends in Australia, he determined to go there, and some of the gentry in the neighborhood very kindly supplied the funds needed for his outfit and passage.
An artist might paint that touching scene―the widow’s last farewell―he might depict on his canvas the old thatched cottage, the graveled path, and the aged gray-haired mother, standing at the wicket gate, watching the form of her son as he passed down the country lane; but no words can describe the sorrow that filled her heart at that moment, for she knew she would never see her son again on earth, and, alas! she had no assurance of seeing him in heaven.
Charlie’s sister accompanied him to London, and on the deck of the ocean-bound steamer the final farewell was spoken. They remained together till the bell rang, warning all visitors to leave the ship, and soon after the anchor was weighed, the hawsers cast off, and slowly the great steamer bore away its freight of human souls on its long ocean journey.
The sister made her way through London intending to return home that night, for country maiden though she was, the busy streets and gay sights of the great city had no attraction for her. Her thoughts were following her brother in his voyage over the sea, wondering whether he would safely reach the other side; and still more did she think of his far more important voyage over the sea of time to the great eternity beyond, and oh! how she longed for some assurance that he was bound for the right haven, the glory-land above.
Occupied with these thoughts, she took little notice of the bustle and confusion all around her, till, attempting to cross the space in front of Charing Cross Station, she was knocked down by a passing cab. Much shaken, but happily not severely hurt, she felt quite unfit to travel that night, and returned to her lodging in London. All that night she could get no sleep, but continually during the silent hours she thought she heard a voice saying to her, “Go to Plymouth and see your brother again.”
As the morning dawned this impression was so strong that she felt she must act upon it, and trusting that the good hand of God was guiding her, she took the long railway journey to Plymouth, and there found that the steamer was expected early the following morning.
It was hardly daybreak when she was down at the harbor again, and finding that the vessel was lying at anchor four miles out, procured a boat and was rowed to the steamer.
When she entered the cabin where her brother was lying, the shock was almost too much for him. He threw his arms around her neck and wept tears of joy, and begged her not to leave him, for he knew now that he was dying, the ship’s doctor having told him that it was impossible for him to reach Australia. With womanly tenderness the kind-hearted sailors brought Charlie on deck on his mattress, and let him down into the tender which was lying beside the ship. Thus they brought him ashore, and the sister was able to take him to the temporary lodging she had procured, and here the last two days of his earthly life were spent.
Now she heard how God had answered the many prayers of mother and daughter, and in His grace had visited that lonely traveler between London and Plymouth. From his own lips she heard the story how he had fought against God, how he had resisted the gospel appeal, how he had run away from death. But when he found himself out on the wide waste of waters, alone, surrounded by strangers, confronted by. the prospect of an early death and a watery grave, with no loving familiar band to care for him, then, at that lonely hour, all his pride and self-will broke down, and having no friend on earth to turn to, he looked upward to God and cried to Him with all his heart, that He would have mercy upon him and save him, miserable broken-down sinner as he was. And the God of all grace heard, as He always does, that broken-hearted cry, and the Saviour spoke His blessed word of peace to his soul. Divine rest filled the soul of the lonely sufferer, while the heart of God rejoiced over one more sinner who had turned to Him in true repentance.
Having committed his soul to the Saviour’s keeping, he was able also to commit his whole path to Him, dark as it seemed to be, and graciously did the Lord answer the trust by sending his sister down to Plymouth, and giving him the opportunity of gladdening other hearts by telling with his own lips “what great things the Lord had done for him.”
On receiving a telegram from her daughter the widowed mother came down to Plymouth. She arrived too late to see her son alive; but her natural sorrow was turned into heavenly joy when she heard the story of the Lord’s grace to him. He left a farewell message to all his friends that he died “fully trusting in the Lord Jesus.”
This simple and true story has been written first of all in the hope that it may reach the eye of some unconverted reader, who has been doing as Charlie did, fighting against God, and refusing His message.
May the story of God’s grace and compassion lead you to cease fighting against the only One who perfectly loves you. Lay down your arms and yield to Him now, while in grace He calls you. It is far better to come to Him while you are in health and strength than to leave it till your dying hour.
While such a case as Charlie’s magnifies the grace and long-suffering of God in seeking the lost sheep until He find it, yet how much did he lose by not turning to the Lord sooner and spending his short life in His happy service instead of fighting against Him. For that life is only worth living which is lived for Christ. Besides, my reader, you may never have a death-bed. Heed this warning note: “He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.”
But I also write in the hope that God will use this illustration of answered prayer to encourage others to continue praying for those who are near and dear to them. Dear parents, faint not, nor grow weary in your labor of love, but pray on for your sons. They need your prayers, both the unsaved and those who are saved, for the warfare is not over yet; indeed conversion is only the first skirmish, if I may say so, of a long but victorious battle with evil. Many and desperate are the attacks of the great enemy of our souls, and no one can tell the fearful struggle often going on in the hearts of Christian young men. It is a battle they must fight out alone with God, but you can mightily help by prayer.
And if this reaches the eye of some lonely one, who through weakness is not able to take an active part in the Lord’s service, will you take up the blessed service of prayer (Col. 4:1212Epaphras, who is one of you, a servant of Christ, saluteth you, always laboring fervently for you in prayers, that ye may stand perfect and complete in all the will of God. (Colossians 4:12)), and especially remember the lambs of the flock, that they may be preserved from the raging lion’s power.
“Oh, tell through the breadth of creation
That Jesus, the Saviour, has come
To secure an eternal salvation,
A rest, and a heavenly home!
Tell him that’s grown old in rebellion
That Jesus entreats him to come;
Tell also the thoughtless and gay one;
Tell all, that for all there is room.’”
S. H. P.