IT was not a very likely place to get people to accept tracts, but our friend evidently believed in doing the Lord’s work “in season and out of season.” Anyway he stood at the staircase leading to the ball-room of a large inn in a country town giving gospel books. I do not know how many of the pleasure-seekers accepted tracts that evening, but among them was K—, a young lady the very picture of health and embodiment of gaiety. As he gave her a little book the donor said, “Madam, will you promise me you will read this?” With cheerful voice she promised to do so, and at once placed it in her bag, and probably forgot all about it in the midst of the music and dancing. Whether she read it or not I cannot tell you, but the little heed she paid to it may be gathered from the fact that the front page was torn off, the whole book crumpled and tossed carelessly into a drawer. If the giver of that tract had seen it lying there, he would have said, “I have labored in vain.”
Months rolled on, and with it disease sapped the springs of K—’s life. The bloom departed from her cheek, elasticity from her step. She not only had to give up the pleasures of the ball-room, but country walks, and even music and conversation. At length she became a confirmed invalid, unable to leave her room. Now she had time for reflection. A wasted life behind, and endless eternity before.
Do you wonder she was uneasy? Did you ever picture to yourself what it will be with you, as disease does its work, death stares you in the face, the great white throne beyond, and the books opened containing the records of your life? Oh, you say, I see no harm in having a little pleasure. Perhaps not.
Some years since a fire broke out in the Haymarket, London, and a large theater was wrapped in flames. As the lurid glare lighted up the darkness of the night the crowd beheld with horror a man on the roof, dancing! Yes, actually dancing! with the devouring elements every moment drawing nearer. Everybody said the poor fellow’s brain must be turned, he must be demented.
Ball-room-frequenter, pleasure-seeker, how like yourself! Hell fire is underneath you, the flames of judgment gradually drawing nearer.
To return to K—. One day, in utter desolation, she opened a drawer, took out the crumpled tract, and read it. It told her some very plain truths. It declared she was a sinner, nay more, an enemy. It insisted that if she died without faith in Christ she would be lost forever. Now, you must not suppose that K— made no profession of religion. She had attended church regularly as long as she could, she had been very kind to the poor, dutiful to her parents, in fact she considered himself an estimable character. Here was this little book telling her that she was a fallen being, that her devotions had sin in them, and that nothing would avail her but a new start altogether. It insisted upon the truth of the Lord’s words, “Ye must be born again.” The Holy Spirit began to work in her conscience, she felt she ought to love God, and lead a new life. Did you ever feel like that? If so, please remember you will never love God until you find out how He has loved you, and you can never lead a new life until you have a new life.
Happily this little book went on to tell K— that God’s Word declared she was guilty before God, but it also declared how Christ the sinless One had borne all her guilt. It quoted this beautiful verse from Romans 5— “God commendeth his love toward us in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” It ended with the words that fell from that blessed Saviour’s lips― “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)).
God in His matchless grace spoke to her. She learned she was lost. She also learned that Christ came to seek and to save that which was lost. Now a lost sheep and a seeking shepherd just suit each other. The Shepherd found one of His sheep in that sick chamber. Henceforth her delight was to pass on the good news. She had found a more lasting joy than that of earth, pleasures for evermore were hers. E—, one of the friends of her worldly days, came to see her. Like K— she had been careless and indifferent about her eternal welfare.
K— passed away to be with her Saviour, but not before she had the joy of knowing that E—was born again, saved, and satisfied with Jesus.
A year rolled away, consumption had done its work, and E—too was passing away. The valley of the shadow of death was not dark to her. The light of her Saviour’s presence filled her heart. Her delight since her conversion was the Word of God. “It is so different from other books,” she said; “after reading them a few times I know their contents, but the Bible is ever presented in some new light, and each passage is so full of meaning.”
“Yes,” said her friend, “that has always struck me as proof of the Divine authority of the sacred writings.”
E— replied, “My own heart gives me abundant proof they are true.”
Many friends visited her on her death-bed. To them she spoke of the Saviour. Perhaps in a coming day other links will be found in the chain of blessing resulting from the tract given on the ball-room steps. E— passed away from her suffering bed, whilst Christian friends were in prayer in her room. She literally fell asleep here, to awake in that blessed scene where praise, unceasing praise, ever wells forth to the slain Lamb who has redeemed to God by His blood out of every kindred, tongue, people, and nation.
Reader, have you learned the theme of that song? If you do not learn it here, you will never sing it there.
What of the tract distributor? As far as it can be ascertained, the gentleman who gave the book at the ball-room door never knew the result. He will know. The Saviour said, “Sower and reaper shall rejoice together.”
One special object in view in writing this paper is to encourage tract distributors to go on. Perhaps you say, “I have been distributing Gospel Messengers and other books for years, and have never seen any result.” Now, don’t give up. Put a little more prayer into the work, and a little more faith, and a little more perseverance. Let me tell you of a Christian who lived next door to a well-to-do skeptic. A man of considerable intelligence in natural things, he was thoroughly blind to spiritual things. Disease overtook him. It was of a lingering character, but must end fatally. Several Christians tried to approach him. A cold repulse disheartened them and paralyzed their efforts. His next-door neighbor was often in his room, and made frequent attempts to induce him to speak on the concerns of his soul. He foiled every effort. He assumed an outward cheerfulness and indifference to death and that judgment which surely awaits the unrepentant. Prayer, earnest prayer, was made to God for his salvation. He was fond of reading, and when he became too ill himself to read, one of his little daughters used to read to him by the hour. One day the Christian neighbor found him asleep, immediately went home, and getting a tract containing a solemn appeal to a sinner in the prospect of death, returned, laid it on his pillow, and then back again home, to pray God to use it in blessing to his soul.
By-and-by the sick man awoke, his hand fell on the book, and without waiting to examine it, he called for his little daughter to read it to him. She had not read far before his eyes filled with tears, his bosom heaved, his lips trembled. The little girl’s voice also trembled as she saw the effect produced on her father, but she continued reading. He then asked her to pause, and tried to regain self-possession, but presently told her to read on. She did so. Tears began to gush from his eyes; he wept violently, and could not conceal his emotion. The child read on as well as she was able, for she too was sobbing as though her little heart would break. His sins rose up before him as a mountain. Conviction came home with tremendous power. His skepticism was blown to the winds. “God be merciful to me a sinner” was the language of his heart. He saw the pit ready to receive him.
A messenger was despatched for the next-door neighbor, not now to meet scoffs and rebuffs, but to reply to a heart-broken “What must I do to be saved?” What a joy to tell him that the biggest sinner who ever lived was already saved, and he had only to come to the Saviour who had saved him, and who had declared that “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.” Repentance toward God was accompanied by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That skeptic was saved. The human instrument a prayer and a tract. Perhaps another effort may succeed in that case you have almost begun to look upon as hopeless.
Prayer gives God His right place. It owns the truth of the Saviour’s words, “Without me ye can do nothing.”
Persevering labor rests in the assurance, “In due season ye shall reap if ye faint not.” Don’t give up. It is sowing time now. Harvest time is coming.
H. N.