YOUR article on “Decision” brought to mind some pages in my early history, and, for the sake of your young readers, I now record them.
They will show how skillfully the enemy presents his “morsels of meat” to the soul that has caught but a sight, as it were, of its birthright. My girlhood was spent without God. I had grown up to eighteen years of age or rather more, in utter carelessness about my soul, loving much the pleasures of the world, dress, company, and amusements. My father would, from time to time, enter a feeble protest against these things, and he sought to win us from them, by books and serials of an interesting and evangelical character; while my mother was more lenient to our follies.
About this time my father’s last illness came upon him. For six weeks he sat in his chair, night and day, unable to take a recumbent position, his heart being in a critical state. I took my turn in watching by him, but though I could see he needed comfort, I was unable to give it. Good men came to visit him, and read and prayed with him. I heard his confession of being a “sinner saved by grace,” with a touching reference to “the white-robed multitude” in Revelation 7, but I knew not what it meant.
One night I was awakened from my sleep by the nurse, who suddenly said, “Your father is dying; come directly.” I was in his room in a moment; others were there before me. My dear father was sitting in his chair by the fire-side, his head resting on his hand, his elbow on the table. One glance at his face told me all was over; the nurse threw a handkerchief over his head, and I sank on my knees by the bed-side. Then and there the way of salvation through the crucified One passed before my eyes; in the very presence of death I saw life for the first time. I heeded not, and knew not what was going on around me, until roused by kind hands, I was told to dress and go down stairs with my mother. The sudden bereavement that brought loud weeping from others, brought none from me, at least not for a time. I was in a new world; peace filled my heart and mind, and I longed to know more of the mysterious treasure I felt I possessed. This the great enemy of souls perceived, I have no doubt, and laid his bait accordingly. I was ignorant of his devices, ignorant of everything. I may be said never to have heard a gospel sermon in my life, and thought not of turning to the Word, or I might possibly have been preserved.
The solemnity of the death-scene came back, and with it a sense of my bereavement and then almost immediately the orders for mourning and the funeral. I have ever since regarded the costumes and the parade common to these occasions as an especial wile of the devil to turn aside the soul from solemn thoughts, under the plea of proper respect for the dead. My old tastes revived in planning deep and handsome mourning, and many hours were spent in this way, while my sweet peace was leaking away, and I knew it not.
The funeral over, I awoke as from a dream. A voice within, gentle at first, then louder, seemed to say, “What have you lost?” Yes, I felt I had lost something. What was it? I could not say, but my conscience was guilty, and I went into the world to drown its voice; but this would not do. Then my health gave way. I remember waking one night with the feeling that I was dropping into hell. It was forced upon me that I had surrendered Christ for the things of the world, for less than a mess of pottage to a fainting man―for dress, for vanity. I could well understand the dying lament of another, “I know where I missed it”; and this would also have been my lament for an eternity of darkness, but for His unspeakable love. “To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against Him.”
The faithful Shepherd rested not until He had brought His wandering sheep back to Himself, but it was a long and dreary way. I will retrace some of the steps in this path, and the reader will see how patiently the Saviour sought me.
I went sometimes to see a lady in the next village, who was very ill. I made the taking of some little delicacies for her the pretext for my visits, but my real object was to find out the secret of her peace, for she was spoken of as a Christian, ready to die, and willing to leave her husband and young family. I often studied her peaceful countenance, and the uniform gentleness of her manner. I saw she had what I had not. I longed and yet feared for her to speak to me: she passed away without doing so, as far as I can remember.
It was announced that her funeral sermon would be preached by the clergyman who had visited her, from words of her own choosing, because “she had proved them.” I went to hear, thinking I might get some clue as to recovering peace, my lost peace. I seated myself where I could see and hear to advantage. The text was “In the multitude of my thoughts within me Thy comforts delight my soul.” (Psa. 94:1919In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul. (Psalm 94:19).) The preacher began by saying that people in general neglected salvation, and I was convicted at once. I hung my head, regretting my prominent position, for I felt as if everybody looked at me, and knew what was passing within. Of course this was merely my guilty conscience, but I heard, or at least remembered, no more of the sermon.
Soon after this, change of air was considered desirable for my health, and I went on a visit to some friends at a distance, among a number of young people all gay and worldly. A year before this would have suited my tastes exactly, but now, I scarce knew why, all seemed empty and hollow, yet I affected enjoyment; the fact was, I was “in distress, discontented and in debt,” and I knew it, but knew not my Deliverer One day a gentleman came to the house, and, strange to say, he spoke of Christ. I listened intently, and to my horror found he spoke of Him as man only; absolutely and boldly denied He was anything more. The blood rushed to my forehead; my heart had received a blow; but I had not a word to say; not a single scripture could I remember, and to my shame and sorrow he had it all his own way.
On speaking of it afterward to my friends, they said, “Oh, he is a Socinian―it is all a matter of opinion.” But it was not so to me; I felt if Jesus were not God, I must die in my sins. This showed the reality of the divine touch, the hand that had been laid on my shoulder, so to speak; but in the strong language of Scripture, I had “pulled away the shoulder, hardened my heart, and stiffened my neck.” Had the righteous God shut me up in unbelief, should I not have been like Bunyan’s man in the iron cage? I made up my mind to read the Bible, but I had not one with me, not even a Testament, and Bibles were not fashionable in the house, save on Sundays, and then only at church.
The time came for my return home, where I resolved to read the Bible―I could not say my Bible, for I had not one. As if the enemy knew and would defeat my purpose, one of my young friends offered to lend me Shakespeare’s works in several volumes; these I gladly accepted. I knew Milton and some other poets well, having taste and leisure for reading; but Shakespeare was new to me, save in detached pieces. I soon began to read with avidity, and was charmed, delighted; still I did not forget the pledge I had made to myself. I read the Scriptures. “Isaiah’s wild measure and John’s simple page,” engaged my attention, I may say admiration, yet “Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.” The word of God at first but entranced and captivated my imagination. I well remember, though so many years have passed, a bright Sunday afternoon, in the height of summer, when I read for the first time in my life, 2 Cor. 5:18,1918And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation; 19To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. (2 Corinthians 5:18‑19): “All things are of God, who hath reconciled us to Himself by Jesus Christ... God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them.” A light, brighter than the sun, seemed to shine upon the page; I was amazed.
God, the God I had feared, coming out of His place, reconciling, not imputing trespasses, beseeching sinners to be reconciled to Himself! My inmost soul bowed before Him. I said “Abba, Father,” with a lightened heart, and called Jesus my Saviour. I had accepted the reconciliation, and all was peace.
Soon after this, the Lord, in His tender care, led me for awhile under the ministry of one of His most valued servants, where my heart became established in grace. I then parted company with my former companions. I no more suited them than they me. “God divided the light from the darkness.” I became a Sunday-school teacher— an employment not so popular then as now; I read the Scriptures frequently among the poor, in felt ignorance indeed. When visiting the place, a few years after, I was surprised to find how God had blessed His word by my stammering tongue.
Now, I would say to my young friends in the words of another, “Next to losing your soul, fear losing your convictions.” I would warn and entreat of you, by all that is blessed in time and eternity, to withstand the first temptation that would occupy the heart to the exclusion of Christ. Be firm, be simple, be prayerful, so shall you prevail.
“His word a light before us spreads,
By which our path we see;
His love, a banner o’er our heads,
From harm preserves us free.”
K. G.