IN the spring of 1886 I was returning to England from a trip to Australia, undertaken for the benefit of my health. There were about five hundred passengers on board the “Iberia,” many of whom, after an absence of years, were about to re-visit the old country. Every Sunday forenoon after leaving Adelaide, we had a service in the first saloon, conducted by the captain, in the manner prescribed by the Church of England, and on the evening of the sacred day a service conducted by one of the passengers. After a fortnight’s steaming from Adelaide one of the stewards fell seriously ill, and notwithstanding the doctor’s attention he became gradually worse. The sick man was the son of honest and industrious parents, and some years previously he had had a great longing to travel and to see the world, and so left his father’s roof. His father was in a small business in a village in one of the midland counties, and having a large family, found that with all the economy which he and his wife exercised, it was a hard struggle to pay his way.
John, his eldest child, saw the necessity of shifting for himself, and with his father’s consent, at the age of eighteen, left his native village, and after some trouble obtained a situation on board the s.s. “Iberia” as assistant steward. Here we found him. During his illness, a Christian friend frequently pressed upon him the claims of God. He pointed out to him God’s great goodness in not cutting him off suddenly, and in giving him time for repentance, but John paid no regard to the voice of the Christian. He was a young man of a type which is, alas, too common, brought up in a professing Christian Family, he had no personal interest in Christ. Being surrounded by careless companions on the ship, he got daily further away from God, for God was not in all his thoughts.
One day when the Christian man paid John a visit, he saw that he had not many hours to live, his strength was fast ebbing away, death was, as it were, staring him in the face. What was his spiritual state? Alas, there seemed no ray of light in the poor dark soul is he was going out of time into eternity. His reply to the invitation of mercy was in these sad, sad words: “The devil’s got me.”
The next morning John died, and on that afternoon his remains were consigned to the deep.
The case of this young man is an exceedingly solemn one. He had had his day of mercy and opportunity, yet he did not profit by it. You, my reader, are still on praying ground. God’s attitude towards you is one of tender solicitation. He says, “Turn ye, turn ye; why will ye die?” Is the Lord saying to you, “Ye will not come to Me that ye might have life” R. R. F.