SCENE 1.―A little village in the north of England. A middle-aged man in deep and earnest conversation with two boys, whom we will call No. 1 and No. 2. The theme―Christ and His salvation. Affectionately he pleads, urging immediate decision for Christ, while their hearts were young and tender; showing the danger of delay, the many devices of Satan to which they were constantly exposed, and telling them of the joy and blessedness of being linked to Christ by a living faith, knowing God as their Father, and Christ as their own precious Saviour, with a prospect of being forever with Him in His home above. His words were not without their effect on his young hearers, who wept, as, out of a full heart, he spoke of the One who was everything to him.
Scene 2.―Fourteen years later. The same village. No. 1, after an absence of many years, visits the home of his boyhood; finds out his old companion, No. 2. Let us hear what they have to say to each other, after a little conversation on ordinary topics.
No. 1. Do you remember, many years ago, when Willy Young, the mason, was working here?
No. 2. Yes, quite well.
No. 1. And do you remember when he used to take you and me down the — Lane, and speak to us about our souls?
No. 2. Indeed, I do; I can never forget that as long as I live.
No. 1. Well, do you know, I never forgot his words; wherever I have been, they have followed me. Many and many a time my heart has longed to know the joy and peace he used to speak of, and which he was so anxious that you and I should know and possess; but what seemed to cling to me more than anything else was the memory of that dear man’s holy, consistent life. I could never forget him, so like what a Christian ought to be,—so separate, so quiet, and yet so full of joy, so kind to all, yet never mingling with the throng.
No. 2. You have just expressed my own thoughts of dear Willy, for I never met another like him. You could not be long in his presence without finding out that his home was not here, and that very influence made you long to be like him.
No. 1. I have some good news to tell you, dear—, and that is, that dear Willy’s testimony has not been lost on me, through God’s grace, although it was after many years, yet thankful I am to say that his Saviour is mine, his joys are mine. I, too, know what it is to have that peace which passeth all understanding, and not only so, but the present knowledge of forgiveness of all my sins, and a certainty of a home with Jesus. Can you say this, dear—? Simple faith in Jesus puts you into immediate possession of it all.
No. 2. I wish I could. I only wish I could. How often these things have come before me, and how clearly I see the hollowness of all this weary round of religious machinery, and I really have longed for something solid under my feet; but somehow or other the impressions would wear off, and things are still as they were, ―an empty routine, a lifeless profession, yielding no joy or happiness.
No. 1. It’s a dangerous line you are traveling on, dear friend. You may reach the terminus any moment, and then eternity―eternity―with all its solemn realities, lies before you. Is it not an appalling thought that every moment you are running the risk of losing your precious soul, while at the same time you can be saved at once, by casting yourself unreservedly on Jesus―just as you are?
No. 2. I know you are quite right; every word you are saying is the solemn truth; I know it, I feel it, and I wish I could see things as you do.
No. 1. Well, you see, I was deceived a long time myself. I thought it was necessary for me to go through a long course of repentance, and to show, by my genuine sorrow for all the sins I had committed, that I was a worthy subject for God’s mercy, and that He would, when He saw I had repented enough, cause me to feel some sweet, happy influences in my soul, and thereby I would know I was all right. Such was the gospel as I heard it preached on every hand; but it is not the gospel of the New Testament, for when, as a hopeless case, I left off striving after repentance, and ceased struggling to make myself fit for God, and as a lost and helpless sinner laid myself at Jesus’ feet, just as I was, in all my guilt and misery, it was then He raised me up, filled my heart with joy and gladness, saying to my soul, in unmistakable language “Thy sins are forgiven thee: go in peace.” Dear―, don’t wait till you are better, for that you will never be. If you know your need, that’s your fitness. If you are a sinner, and know it, you are just the one for whom salvation is provided. Put in your claim as such; and on the authority of God’s Word, you can put out the hand of faith, and take the “water of life freely” (Rev. 22:1717And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely. (Revelation 22:17)). These are God’s terms to a needy sinner. He gives, and it is yours to take. How simple, and yet what oceans of blessing you are thereby brought into. Dear―, I leave tomorrow, but do let me press the reality of these things upon you; think of the issues at stake; think of the awful results of putting off till it is too late; it must either be the glory with Jesus, or the place of eternal weeping. The choice is in your own hands today, but it may not be so tomorrow. You and I may never meet again on earth, but how glad I would be to see you decided at once about this most important matter.
After a little more conversation, the two friends parted.
Scene 3.―The same village a few months later. No. 2 lies on his dying bed. A sudden attack of illness had laid him low. A few days of terrible suffering, and the end approaches. A little respite from pain is granted, ―a time of quietness. Loved ones are bending over him, thankful for the calm his pain-racked body had not known for days. Listen, his lips move; no need to strain the ear to catch the sounds. Clearly and distinctly the words come from his dying lips: ―
“The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want.
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green: he leadeth me
The quiet waters by.
My soul he doth restore again;
And me to walk doth make
Within the paths of righteousness,
Even for his own name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale,
Yet will I fear none ill:
For thou art with me; and thy rod
And staff me comfort still.
My table thou hast furnished
In presence of my foes;
My head thou dost with oil anoint,
And my cup overflows.
Goodness and mercy all my life
Shall surely follow me:
And in God’s house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.”
A good many years have passed away since Scene 3 took place. No. 1 still treads the narrow path that leads to everlasting life. He looks forward to a moment of reunion with his dear companion, when all the redeemed shall meet the Lord in the air (1 Thess. 4:1717Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. (1 Thessalonians 4:17)), and together share with Him, in those sunny plains of glory, the results of that which He accomplished on Calvary’s cross.
Dear reader, these are no myths, no mere phantoms of a disordered brain, or dreamy speculations of enthusiasts, but blessed, solid realities, to be known and enjoyed now. The feeblest believer in the Lord Jesus Christ stands in the full, unclouded favor of God, and all the varied treasures, the unlimited blessings, the boundless resources, spoken of in the Scriptures of truth, are placed at his disposal. Slight not such magnificent grace. Remember each moment speeds you on to your eternal destination. Where is it to be? Awful will be your remorse if you linger until the door is shut. But regrets will not avail you then; no voice of mercy will ever reach those caverns of the lost.
Dear unsaved friend, do you long for happiness? Do you want solid rest and peace for your weary heart? You may have some vague thought as to what true happiness is; you have thought of heaven, with all its unsullied glories, and you have pictured to yourself the joy of those who dwell there; but all your thoughts and conceptions of happiness on earth or in heaven fall infinitely short, for no unconverted soul can grasp in the smallest degree the pure joys and blessings to which a poor sinner becomes heir the moment he believes in Jesus. The blessed occupation of a child of God, according to the Scriptures, is to be ever finding out new fields of glory, and, basking in the full sunshine of His Father’s face, he waits the moment of his Lord’s return to usher him into the full, unclouded glory of His presence forever. This is the portion of every believer. Is it to be yours, dear reader?
G. F. E.