IN the ward of a small fever hospital a man lay dying of enteric. His labored breathing, glassy eyes, and restless movements all told that death was near. A nurse was sent to sit beside him, and told to do all she could to ease his last moments.
He kept moving his hands restlessly, and between his struggles for breath and paroxysms of delirium he said, “Nurse, I would like you to read some kind of a good book to me.”
Not having a Bible at hand, the nurse commenced to repeat that lovely gospel verse, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)). Also, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:3737All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. (John 6:37)), but she saw his mind had wandered again, and he did not evidently understand what she was saying.
After another short interval, during which he was very restless, the poor man raised himself in bed, and pointing to a screen at the foot of his bed, said, “Can anyone tell me where I am going?”
Shortly afterward his soul passed into eternity. Truly a leap in the dark. No doubt this man had often heard the gospel, and probably intended to accept it some time, but alas! like many others, he may have neglected it till it was too late. His mind was weakened by disease, and could not grasp the simple gospel invitation.
And now, allow me to tell you another story of a dying hour.
Another man lay dying of cancer, and the doctor had told him that day that there was no hope of his recovery. The nurse, who had been with him, and had spoken often to him of his need of a Saviour, was allowed to sit up with him, as it was expected to be his last night on earth.
The first part of the night passed comparatively quietly, but towards morning a severe fit of coughing came on, leaving him., hardly able to move. The nurse had been looking to God all the previous day for another opportunity of saying something more to him, as she feared she had not been faithful enough before. As she stood beside him, she said, “Now, Mr. M’Intyre, you know you told me when you first came in that you thought you had to do something to merit salvation; but even supposing for a moment that God would accept your works, you see you can do nothing, so God offers you salvation like the bitten Israelites of old―to look and live. One look to Christ in all your helplessness―and you will live.”
Never shall I forget the pathos of that scene, as the dying man raised his hands above his head, and looking up, said, “I am trusting, Miss; I am trusting,” and shortly afterward he passed away.
Reader, these are two true stories of dying men’s hours.
What about your dying hour? Will it be a leap in till dark, or a simple trust in Christ?
M. M.