HOW many there are who refuse to close with the gospel offer of a free and full salvation! They do not mean to be lost, but are content to quiet their consciences by resolving to come to Christ upon their deathbed. To such I address the following true story.
I was a boy of about fourteen years of age, and in church one Sunday, listening to the clergyman, when he said―
“My brethren, just before I came to service this morning, I attended at the bedside of a poor woman, a member of this congregation, who was dying. I spoke very earnestly to her about her soul, and she listened with great attention. When I pointed out to her the danger of meeting her God unforgiven, she cried for mercy, and a few minutes afterward she died. I believe she was heard and forgiven, and that she has gone to heaven.”
I may be misquoting the preacher’s exact words, but the impression they left on my mind was, that a man might live as he liked, and that on his death-bed he might cry for mercy, be forgiven, and go to heaven. As I sat in the church, I said to myself, “That is exactly what I will do, and I will enjoy life in my own way.” I deliberately formed this resolution, and lived accordingly. I joined in all the pleasures going on around me, but notwithstanding, I used to feel quite shocked when any one talked about the possibility of going to hell. “No, no,” I used to think “I am going to cry for mercy on my deathbed.”
Years passed on, and I joined the army and, in 1870, sailed with my regiment for India. I lived a careless, godless life, trying to forget the eternity which lay before me However, the thought sometimes would strike me, “What will be the end of the life I am leading?” But Satan always prompted this answer in my heart, “On my deathbed I am going to cry for mercy.”
I was very fond of shooting, and used to spend a great part of my spare time out in the jungle with my friends. During the first year of my life in India, I obtained leave of absence for a few days, got wet through while shooting, and returned to the cantonment suffering from an acute attack of illness.
I was living at that time in the same bungalow as one of our regimental surgeons, G., with whom I was on very intimate terms. When he came to my bedside to prescribe for me, I saw that he looked very grave, so I said to him―
“What do you think of me, G.? Will you kindly tell me honestly if you think I am going to die, as I wish to know?”
G. replied, with some hesitation, “To tell you the honest truth, I think that you are so ill, that unless you take a decided turn for the better within an hour, you will probably be dead in two or three.”
“Thank you,” I answered. “Now will you kindly leave me by myself, and come back to see me again at the end of an hour?”
G. left me alone. “And now,” said I, “the time has come of which I have thought so often; I must cry for mercy.”
I looked at my watch as G. left me, and noticed the exact time. After lying quiet for a few minutes to collect my thoughts, I looked again at my watch, and found that a quarter of an hour had slipped away. I was startled, but repeating to myself, “Now I must cry for mercy,” lay back on my bed.
My thoughts flew to my home in England, and I wondered how those I loved would hear of my death, and what they would think and say, and again I looked at my watch. I had only twenty minutes left! In deep distress I tried to think of the words in which I should “cry for mercy,” but could not think of any words whatever. Then I sank down upon the pillow, and realized to my horror that I was so weak from my illness that, do what I would, I could not collect my thoughts sufficiently to cry for mercy.
Once more I looked at my watch. Two or three minutes only of the hour were left me. I thought I should probably soon become unconscious. This roused me to a desperate effort, and raising myself on to my knees, I tried as a last resource to say the Lord’s prayer.
I began “Our Father, which art―,” but this was all that I could remember. I was too ill to recall what came next, and fell down upon my bed in anguish, fully realizing that on my death-bed it was too late to cry for mercy.
It pleased God, in His love, to restore me to health and strength, but, through His mercy, I thought no more of repenting on a death-bed.
After some years had passed, I found myself again in England. When staying in the country I was induced to attend a mission service in a neighboring village, and there heard the Gospel of a free and full salvation preached by a cousin of my own. He pointed out that ‘Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,’ and that if any man came as a sinner to Christ, believing in Him, and trusting in Him, that that very moment Christ would receive him, however vile and sinful he might be, and would give him eternal life. “Now,” cried he, “is the accepted time.”
In a moment it flashed across my mind, “What folly to delay accepting this loving call!” Through grace I came to Christ then and there, and since that moment have been blessed with the knowledge of my perfect safety for time and for eternity.
Reader, the same offer of a free and full salvation is made to you. Whoever you may be, or whatever your circumstances may be, you may take the water of life freely, “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:1616For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16).)
After having read my story, can you risk the salvation of your never-dying soul by putting off coming to Christ till your deathbed? May the Holy Spirit teach you your need of a Saviour, and that “now is the accepted times” E. H. F.