ONE of these I wish I had never seen. It was that of a young man in the prime of life, dying from the effects of a wound received in action. Others were dying around him, but none of them manifested the hatred to God that He did.
He threw himself out of bed, rolling about, and cursing God with all the might of which he was capable. Many went to his aid, but his blasphemy was too much even for soldiers, and he was let alone. He seemed to possess a soul from the pit.
While his paroxysm continued, which it did till his death, nothing was noticed in the ward but this man. Other patients were neglected; the noise of the conflict outside, and the bursting fragments of shell passing over the beds, were unheeded in presence of this awful scene. Even the lull, which preceded a charge, and the shouts of the enemy, who were in overpowering numbers, did not call off our attention to this truly awful ease. He passed away thus.
This young man was not what the world would call a bad man. He was esteemed a good fellow with his comrades, but he was an enemy of God, and had spent his time in catering for the amusement of the frivolous and gay.
The other case was that of a young man of twenty, who passed away in triumph, though his sufferings were intense. The night previous to his death he slowly repeated the words engraved on his monumental stone, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, hath cleansed me from all sin.” This was his last testimony.
During the whole night he had sung the songs of the redeemed, asking all in the room to join him. When a pause occurred he would point to his mother, and tell her to sing. “What shall we sing?” would be asked, to which he replied, “Jesus.” Jesus so filled his soul that there was no room for aught else.
Then in a sudden rapture he pointed upwards. What did he see? Whatever it was, it so filled him with unspeakable joy that a beauty, not of this world, shone from his face, making it beautiful beyond any artistic skill or imagination. His utterance was so imperfect at this time that he could not make us understand what it was that he saw when he looked up, while he broke out into an ecstatic exclamation of wonder. We, who were watching, believed that he saw the Lord Jesus.
The thoughts of college and grinders, which had previously engrossed his mind (for he was a university student), were all abandoned. Books and study were as if they had never existed. His conversation was redolent of heaven.
The sweet strains that floated from his lips through the room are now gone to the upper sanctuary, though they seem to linger still in the chamber when it is visited.
What made the difference between these two death-beds? The blood of Jesus applied to the conscience. The reception of the Lord Jesus as a personal Saviour.
Reader, do you know anything of this? You may. It is all for you. God waits to be gracious.
T. M. C.