Only a trifling act of courtesy, but it had the effect of unsealing the lips and winning the confidence of an elderly lady, who was, on the evening of which I am writing my only fellow passenger in an omnibus.
Fixing a long, earnest look on my face, she said, with considerable energy of manner, “Tell me, have you ever tried to do good to any one and got no thanks for it?”
A strange question, and still more strangely put! I was silent for a moment―a very short space of time, yet long enough for me to cast myself on the Lord for grace to give a right answer.
“Perhaps I may have done so sometimes but if so it was only a test as to whether wanted to do the seeming good to please myself, or to serve the One to whom I owe everything―the Lord Jesus.”
“Doing it for the Lord Jesus! I really don’ understand you,” said the lady, in surprise “But then I never did anything for Him it all my life; I don’t even know how to begin to serve Him.”
“You cannot serve Him until you know Him as your own Savior; until by faith yet know that your sins were once and for eve put away by Him on the cross. Have you trusted Christ?” I asked.
“I cannot say I have, in the way you mean,” she replied, “but I know a great deal about Him; I have read the New Testament over and over again. I assure you I admire the character of Christ; I like to think of how He went about doing good―and His was such a death too; such wonderful patience, such noble forgiveness of enemies―praying for His very murderers, Father, forgive them, for the know not what they do.”
My companion spoke earnestly, and replied, ―
“All that you have said about our blesses Lord is true, quite true, but you must know more than the moral beauty of His path as a Man among men, or you do not trust Him as your Redeemer. Before anyone can experience rest of soul, he must know Chris as the eternal Son of the eternal God.”
“But there are so many different opinions,” she objected; “even good men do not always think alike.”
“Yes, many opinions, but only one standard by which to try them all the word of God,” I said, and repeated the well-known lines. ―
“None but Jesus can do helpless sinners good.” “Say those words again; oh, let me hear them once more!” and the thin hand of my companion caught my arm eagerly. Again, I repeated the simple words, and she said, with deep feeling, ―
“It’s just fifteen years since I heard those words before; I can never forget the time; my youngest son was in such a strange, low way, his brothers said religion had turned his brain, and that he was going mad. Sometimes he would walk up and down his room for hours, wringing his hands and crying, God be merciful to me a sinner! But he came to himself suddenly, saying the words you repeated just now. I never saw such a change in anyone; he seemed so full of joy, though he talked very strangely. He said it was not his prayers or his tears that were the ground of his hope, it was only the precious blood of Jesus. He went abroad soon after, but he writes us such beautiful letters, and what you said reminded me of them.”
Our omnibus journey was at an end, and we parted with a hasty goodbye.
Beloved reader, are you resting in mere admiration of the character of the Lord Jesus? If so, you are still unsaved―still unsheltered by His blood―still a stranger to God’s thoughts about His beloved Son. “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” L.