It is a happy thing to know and own the grace of God, which makes nothing of the creature, and which brings the sinner to be at rest and peace in His presence.
This happiness was truly exemplified in the subject of the following record—Henry F. He was in his twentieth year, surrounded by scenes in which there was nothing to speak to his heart about God, but the moment came when God’s voice was to be heard by him. The town in which he was living was situated at the mouth of the Bristol Channel, and the sea there in the autumn is to be seen in all its terrible majesty. One November morning, in a year noted for storms, Henry went for a walk to watch the waters; on his way he had to pass a building in course of erection, when suddenly a gust of wind came—tore away the roof of a temporary shed in which the masons were at work, and crushed Henry beneath its ruins. On clearing away the wreck he was taken up for dead, and was carried to his bed, bruised, bleeding, and unconscious.
Thus he lay week after week before his reason returned, and before he became at all sensible of the nature of the injuries he had received. His sense of feeling from the chest downwards was gone, the whole nervous system being paralyzed. Thus, in a few moments, his strength had been taken from him.
His case was pronounced hopeless by the doctor, and it was thought impossible that he could live. Such was man’s verdict; but God had His own purpose of blessing to accomplish in Henry.
As his reason returned, he had a great desire to be removed to his father’s house, that he might be with his parents, and especially that he might receive his mother’s tender care. Nothing could exceed her watchful love during the whole of his illness.
Months went slowly by, and Henry’s life was spared, but for nearly ten years he remained in his helpless state, unable to do more than move his hand and turn his head. His case excited a good deal of interest in the town and neighborhood, and the family being well known, many visited him, amongst them some Christians, by whose words Henry became awakened to his true state before God.
After two years of bodily suffering, and also of frequent distress about his soul, the Lord spoke to Henry. He said, “The Lord spoke peace to my soul one night in a terrible storm of thunder and lightning: and such was my joy I could have gone home right up in the lightning.” Of the storm of wind when he met with his accident, and of the tempest in which the Lord spoke peace to his soul, he said, “They were two blessed storms for me: in one He wounded, and in the other He healed. All danger is past now; I have only to look forward to falling asleep in Jesus, or to His coming to take us all up.”
So happy and peaceful was he, that fear became a thing unknown to him, and he lived a life of faith in the Lord, and of perfect peace. One little remark of his expresses this, when being asked if he wanted his pillows shaken, “No, thank you, it is all very comfortable; I have only to lay myself in the arms of the Lord, and go to sleep.”
Three years from the date of his accident, he remarked, “It does not seem long to look back, it is but as yesterday, and as a watch in the night. I can say, He that is mighty hath done unto me great things, and holy is His name.”
From the time the Lord gave Henry peace, his growth in the truth was most marked. The eight following years he remained in the body were a striking exemplification of the word: “The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” The Holy Ghost, the Comforter, was very present with him, taking the things of Christ, and showing them unto him, One who had taught him when a boy expressed her surprise at his knowledge of Scripture. “Ah!” he said, “the Lord teaches us with wisdom.” “But,” said the lady, “you did not learn so fast when I taught you in the Sunday school.” “No,” he replied; “and have I not a better schoolmaster now, even the Holy Ghost, who teaches perfectly?”
He often used to grieve and lament over the condition of God’s people, and compared it to that of his poor paralyzed body, saying there was life in all the members of his body, and the blood circulated through them, but all were helpless with the exception of his hands and head; so with the members of Christ’s body, each had life, but many were without power, not having in them the active energy of the Holy Ghost.
Henry’s life was a witness for Christ; he had a word for everyone who visited him. Many a word of refreshing has been given through him to those coming to refresh him, and who went away refreshed.
One Lord’s day, referring to a conversation with some visitors, he said, “I have been so happy today! I have been preaching.” His friend answered, “I hope you have preached the gospel.” “Yes,” he replied; “I have felt the joy of being able to say, ‘Behold the Lamb of God!’ I was so happy! I am sure the Holy Ghost told me what to say.”
On another occasion a gentleman called to see him, when Henry began to speak to him about the Lord. The gentleman listened attentively, but said, “I have so much to bother about in the world that I have no time to think.” Henry replied, “When we get the better thing, we do not lament giving up the other. Paul could say, ‘I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ.’”
The visitor having left, Henry’s mother told him she was afraid he had taken too much liberty in speaking. “God put me here,” he said, “so that I may speak of Christ at all times to those who come in.”
He seemed always to realize the Lord’s presence. Nothing appeared to damp his spirits or to depress him; and though often suffering acutely in body, he had a kind word and a bright smile for everyone who entered his room.
His mother remarked one day to a friend who came in, that he had been alone many hours. “No, indeed, I have not been alone,” he said, “I have had a happy meeting, there have been with me God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. I have always got meat to eat.”
Henry would at all times, with the simplicity of a little child, refer to God’s precious Book to discover the mind of God in everything, whether personal or in connection with His truth. Soon after his conversion he remarked, “When we get cured we begin to dig for gold,” and, putting his hand on the Bible, added, “This is the mine we have to dig from.” To a friend going into his room one day, he said, holding up his Testament, “This is my little comforter.” He was asked if he ever grew tired of it. He smiled, as he replied, “No, I shall never get tired of it; I can’t; in it is living water.”
On one occasion this text was given him, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” He replied, “I have not much to weep for, thank God. My present trials are nothing to the joys that await me.” “Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing,” was sent at another time. “What did she send me that for? I’m not sorrowful,” he said, and sent back the following: “But I will hope continually, and will yet praise Thee more and more.” (Psa. 71:1414But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more. (Psalm 71:14).)
Such was the constantly happy spirit which possessed him. “I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth” —he would say, adding with emphasis, “continually, no time for anything else.”
One day a person who was with him remarked, “You are like a bird shut up in a cage, waiting to have the door opened.”
Henry smiled, “I only wish I could have the door open, I would soon flyaway; but,” he added, “I must wait.”
In reply to a remark, “What a blessed change, when we have done with these poor old tabernacles!” he said, “Yes; but perhaps it is good for us to feel that we are in the wilderness; good for us to feel our weakness, that we may know the strength of Jesus. Our trials work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” When a friend asked him, “Won’t you be glad to go and be with Him?” he sweetly smiled, and said, “I don’t know about that; it is as the Lord wishes, He orders all things, and knows what is best for us.”
One day, when his mother was arranging his room, he said, “Mother, that is what all God’s children should do: have all prepared, ready to meet the Lord when He comes; and you, mother, ought to be doing the same.”
“Why, Henry,” his mother answered, “you are constantly talking about these things, and you make me afraid.”
He was asked by a person who visited him, whether he was ever tempted to say, “My Lord delayeth His coming.” With one of his happy smiles, he replied, “I can say; ‘Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace’; I am ready to go, but I am not tired of waiting, for we may have a bright tomorrow; and, if not, we are marching homeward, every day bringing us nearer rest.”
A friend called one day, and told him of a Christian who was near his departure, and very happy in the prospect, having, as he expressed it, “a beautiful sight of Jesus.” Henry remarked, “It is very blessed to be so near home, it is nothing to depart; the great thing is, if we tarry on our journey, to glorify God by the way.”
Increasing sufferings, and bodily weakness, in no wise affected him. He was ever patient and submissive, always thankful for every kindness shown to him. He said, “It is right to thank people for what they do; but I cannot give the creature all the thanks, the Lord, too, must be thanked.” Such was the wondrous grace ministered to him, that he could say, “The Potter hath a right to do as He pleases with the clay.”
The end was drawing near, apparently, and he was asked, “Is the Lord about to take you?” “Yes, I think He is; but all I can say is, ‘My soul, wait thou only upon God’; it is no use my wishing to go before His time;” and with his usual bright smile, he added, “It will be a happy release when I’m off.”
In all his protracted sufferings he was never known to murmur or complain. Nine years from the date of his accident, when taking a retrospect of what the Lord had brought him through, he said, “I have had plenty of bitter, and plenty of sweet, receiving it all as from the Lord.” J. H. S.