“DOES Mrs. H. live here?” “Yes, Miss, I am Mrs. H.”
The speaker glanced at the face of the person who had just opened the door, and answered her question: there was an expression of great peace there she thought, and as she continued, “I hear you are a Christian, is it so?” the quiet and decided reply in the affirmative did not surprise her much. After a little conversation, Mrs. H., at the request of her visitor, related the story of her conversion.
I was brought up by a kind person whom I was accustomed to call Aunt. She took pains to instruct me in the Scriptures, and sent me to a Sunday School, where a dear Christian clergyman taught me and many others the way of salvation.
When I was thirteen, a young governess came to stay with us. One day, not quite a week after, she went to hear a sermon which was preached in the village. Being deeply impressed by it, on her return, she related to us all she could remember. As my Aunt and I listened, we noticed her heave a deep sigh, she rose, but before we had time to ask what ailed her, she sank upon her knees and her head fell upon her breast. We bent over her—she was dead! My Aunt hurriedly told me to fetch the doctor, but I was so frightened that when I arrived at his door I could not utter a word.
At last, however, two physicians came. One look at the kneeling figure sufficed—Emma was quite dead. She had died, they said, as she heaved the deep sigh which first startled us.
In the course of time the poor young thing was to be buried, and on the following Sunday, our clergyman begged that all the young women of the village should sit opposite to him, in the gallery, as he wished to speak in his sermon that day of the solemn and sudden death, which had taken place in our midst. The day came, and we took our places as he had desired. The text chosen was, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21.) Fixing his eyes upon us, he earnestly asked, “Would death be ‘gain’ to you?” Again and again the question was repeated. “Gain!” I knew death would not be that to me. “I am not ready,” I said within myself, “I am not saved.” How his question rang in my ears! While the only answer my heart could give was “No.”
The service was over, and we wended our way home; but how different all was to me now! Everything seemed changed; my happiness had vanished, and in its place there came a deep gloom. I could not speak to any one of the sorrow and anxiety that I felt, so I bore it in silence; but my Aunt wondered at the change she saw in me, and one day she said, “It’s no use your fretting yourself ill like this, grieving so for poor Emma; it can’t do her any good; and as for you, its unfitting you for everything.” She was, however, ignorant of the real cause of my sorrow.
Some weeks passed slowly by, when one day, a young clergyman called upon my Aunt. “Well,” he said, “the death of that young thing should be a lesson to each of us, don’t you think so? Like a voice bidding us be ready.” Sitting at the further corner of the room, I heard what he said, and though had I tried to speak about my soul at any other time, I should have found it impossible, yet in that moment I forgot everything in the pain that his words caused me. “I am not ready to die,”
I sobbed. Mr. W. came across the room: kindly and soothingly he told me of that which could fit nae perfectly for the presence of God; of One who did not spare His own life-blood in order to save me—of His perfect love, love too great for me to understand, but in which could share. He told me God’s own message of peace and pardon. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” (Acts 16:31.) After this, he used to make me go to his house, that he might read and pray for me.
I knew that I was a sinner; I dared not even think of meeting a holy God as I was, unwashed., unforgiven; but God’s grace and mercy met me. Peace came at last, as, one day, the kind friend, who had so often tried to lead me to look outside myself, and “unto Jesus,” pressed upon me that “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son, cleanseth us from all sin.” (1 John 1:7.) I believed it. Believed His blood was enough to put away all my sins; believed on Him who suffered, that I might not; who atoned for sin, that God might be glorified. ‘Tis years since then; and though alas! I have often sinned, and grieved the God, who, in love brought me to Himself, I have never lost the peace He then gave me.
Reader, death may come suddenly: Would it be gain to you? You may be young—so was Emma; yet, she was “cut down as a flower of the grass, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven.” Earth may attract you, and hold your heart, but if you put off this great question, in order to pursue and “gain the whole world,” what gain will it be in the end, if you lose your own soul? (Mark 8:36.)
To one tied down to earth by the brilliancy of his riches, and possessions, God said, “Thou fool! this night thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?” (Luke 12:20.) Another such, “Clothed in purple, and fine linen,” and who “fared sumptuously every day,” died, and was buried, “and in hell, he lift up his eyes, being in torments,” and cried for mercy, when too late, saying, “I am tormented in this flame.” To him it was said, “Son, remember, that thou in thy lifetime received thy good things... but now.... thou art tormented.” (Luke 16:25.) Was death gain to these? And will you follow their example?
Perhaps, as this true story is being read, there may be one, who, like Sarah, truthfully answers, “Death would not be gain to me I am not ready;” who, looking within, sees “sin,” and rightfully fears its “wages” — “death.” (Rom. 6:23.) If there be one such, listen! “The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Rom. 6:23.) The Son of God has suffered for you, died for you, just because you are a sinner. He does not ask you to work; He knows your best efforts are “filthy rags.” He offers a free gift— “Eternal life;” brings salvation to you, and beseeches you to have it. Now, His work of redemption is over, and at His own right hand, God has crowned His Son with “glory and honor.”
Thus He tells you how satisfied He is with the work of Jesus.
Would you know who they are who can say, “Death would be gain to me”? They who are redeemed by the precious blood of Christ: such, if “absent from the body,” are “present with the Lord.” To such, He says, “This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.” Is death “gain” to these? They, who know the Lord, be it even faintly, answer, They are “with Christ, which is far better.”
They there shall see His face,
His name their brows shall bear,
Where once on earth, in weariness,
They carried many a care.
For such there is reserved
A crown of purest light:
And “worthy they,” their Lord declares,
“To walk with me in white.”
S. C. M. A.