IN the City of C, not far from the cathedral, there lived, a few years ago, an inn keeper. His life was like that of many in his calling, neither better nor worse. He was diligent in business, “looked after the main chance,” as men say, was civil and obliging to his customers, and he was not above taking a glass with them from time to time, “just to encourage business,” and although very seldom drunk, he certainly drank enough to undermine his constitution and prematurely age him. All through the week he was in the house, save when he took a short walk or drive for fresh air, and when Sunday morning came he spent it in bed to get a little extra rest, and to prepare him for the work of the after part of the day. Thus passed the days, months, and years, without one thought or word of God; without his ever coming under the sound of God’s gospel of grace. As far as he was concerned, there might be no God, no hereafter, no bliss or woe. Nothing beyond that which went to make up each day’s sense of comfort or discomfort. In a word he was a heathen in a so-called Christian land. Alas he was not alone in this.
One day his usual place was vacant and many inquiries elicited that he was not very well, and thought it better to keep his bed for a day or two. The days came and went but still he did not appear; yet the business went on, and his busy wife was able to keep matters going as well almost as though he had been there; but what of him? In the little bed room above, the sick man was lying, pale and feeble. At first he had chafed much, but now he was quiet, and, if not resigned, at any rate he did not murmur. An experienced eye would have seen at a glance that death was working rapidly. and that the quiet was that of helpless weakness. He was even then treading the border land ‘twixt this life and the great eternity which lies beyond.
There is something inexpressively sad in one passing away like this. His ever busy wife was not unkind, but she had a busy house to look after, and people to keep at their work; from time to time she would look in, or send one and another to attend to the wants of her sick husband. Was there no one to sit by him and smooth his pillow? No friendly voice to breath words of comfort and love? None to point him to the Refuge of sinners, the Saviour of the lost? None. It was a sight over which Satan might glory; at which angels might weep.
The poor man was in the valley of death with eyes and heart alike blinded. Perishing, and he knew it not! Could even the grace of God meet such a case? While listening to the old familiar sounds which came up from below, he fell to wondering when he would take his place in the bustle and din of life below? Then the thought came, would he ever be there again? And should he not, would it all go on as usual? Probably it would; then he tried to picture to himself what it would look like without him. Such a thing must be some day, and where would he be then? Was there anything beyond this life? Strange that he should not have thought of this before. His old mother—here his heart was strangely moved, and as tears, unwonted visitors, filled his eyes, his heart leaped back with a mighty bound, and again in thought he was a boy. Again in the simple home of his childhood he heard the loving voice of his widowed mother, long since stilled in death. Once more he gazed on her dead face, which bore the marks of many a sorrow, yet ever beamed with love for him, and he longed, oh, how he longed once more to see her. How willingly he would have wiped out all the years which had passed to be able once more to be at her knee. Were she living now would she not be beside him? Oh, what rest to have her near. Was she living now, and where? Again he heard her voice, and although the words seemed to have utterly died out in long years which had passed, they came back now in life and power.
Once more he was a boy standing at his mother’s knee; and she spoke of Jesus, of His mighty power, of His tender love, of His great salvation, yes, he heard it all once more, and his heart burned within him.
But now solemn words followed, once more in spirit he was gazing in her face, and listening to her entreaties to trust in Jesus with all his heart, and never be ashamed of Him who died the cruel death of the cross to save us in His love. Then from her lips he once more took the words of that dear old hymn, which so appealed to his boyish heart.
“Jesus, and shall it ever be,
A mortal man ashamed of Thee?
Scorned be the thought of rich or poor;
My soul shall scorn it now no more.
Ashamed of Jesus! sooner far
May evening blush to own a star,
Ashamed of Jesus! just as soon
May midnight blush to think of noon.
Ashamed of Jesus! that dear Friend,
On whom my hopes of heaven depend,
No; when I blush be this my shame,
That I no more revere His Name.
Ashamed of Jesus! yes, I may,
When I’ve no guilt to wash away,
No tear to wipe, no good to crave,
No fears to quell, no soul to save.
Till then, nor is my boasting vain,
Till then I boast a Saviour slain!
And O! may this my glory be,
That Christ is not ashamed of me.”
As these words came pouring into his mind, his conscience and heart were at work, and with heart-rending earnestness he cried, “O God! O, God! how have I treated Jesus!” and burying his face in the bed clothes, he sobbed aloud. Yet, strange to say, with the fullest conviction of his fearful sin, and his utter forgetfulness of Christ, there was not despair in his heart. The Saviour of his mother, the One of whom she had spoken, was One to be trusted. One to whom the guiltiest could come. One who would not cast out the vilest who came to Him. One who would save to the uttermost. Even when his heart was broken with anguish, and his conscience condemned him most ruthlessly for his sin against God and His Christ, faith arose in his heart, his mother’s precious faith was now his, and like a wearied child, ashamed of its naughtiness, and yielding to love, he nestled down on her Saviour’s bosom, his too now, and was at rest. Like lightnings flash, for the time was short now, the wondrous power and tenderness of that sweet love filled his soul, and again and again he murmured, as though the thought were now one of utter amazement,
“Jesus, and can it ever be.
A mortal man ashamed of Thee?”
But others must share his joy; and with eager, though trembling hand he rang the little bell by his side, and his wife came at the call. He cried, “Quick, Quick! tell all in the house to come, never mind aught beside, I must have all here for I have not many minutes to stay!”
Soon a wondering group stood around that dying bed, and listened in astonishment as the saved one told the wondrous tale, of how the grace of God met a poor, perishing, hell-deserving sinner like him, that through the death and blood-shedding of God’s beloved Son who died “the just for the unjust” his sins were washed away; “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners;” He was a vile sinner and could take his place before God as such and there God’s grace met him. Hallelujah what a Saviour!
Then with quivering lips he gave forth the words of a verse of the hymn and bade them sing with him. There was something in his words and manner which made it impossible for them to refuse this. They sang with him, and as they sang, the precious words touched their hearts. The rough stableman with choking sobs tried to join in, but was fain to desist for very sorrow, sat, and cried as though his heart would break. The hymn was sung, verse by verse and when finished he told each to come near; he took them by the hand and bade them farewell, entreating them the while to trust in Jesus, “and never, never be ashamed of Him,” and lastly he took leave of his wife. Kindly, lingeringly, he pleaded with her, to give up, “all, yes, all for Jesus.” With tearful earnestness she promised to follow him to the bright home whither she was sure he was now going. A few minutes later, and those eyes which had pleaded with such fervent love before, were closed in death: those lips which had pleaded with such thrilling earnestness were stilled; that voice was hushed as the weary one fell asleep on the bosom of his Saviour. “Absent from the body, present with the Lord.” There as a trophy of the grace and power of our Lord to save. His testimony remained and shall remain.
O! mothers, who love the Lord, take courage. Cease not to point your dear children to your Saviour. Tell them oft of the love of God, and the work of Christ, plead with them earnestly, morning, noon and night; it will not be in vain. Keep the Word of God before them, you shall reap if you faint not.
The word of God so lovingly told; the hymn so sweetly taught the little one at your knee, shall not be lost, like bread on the waters, it shall be found “after many days.” O! wayward, wandering, forgetful children of godly mothers, remember them who once taught you, whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation, Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and today and forever.
O! mother, father, children, all ye who read this, and have never known, and have never been taught the Saviour’s love, may you learn your need of Him; you are needy! “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”
“All are gone out of the way,” “None righteous no not one.” Hear His Word, know your need and come to Him. “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).
Surely God is far above thee, but humble thyself and He will stoop down to thee and dwell in thy heart.
ML 08/22/1909