A WELL-KNOWN figure in one of the suburbs of London on Sunday mornings was R., as he went his rounds selling Sunday newspapers; nor has the form of the tall, thin, old man, with his high hat and stick, yet faded out of memory, for it is but twelve months since he was to be seen at his Sunday-morning work. Never had old R.’s shadow darkened the threshold of a place of worship, neither had the thought of eternity crossed his soul, for he lived utterly careless of God, and without a thought of the future.
Last autumn he was led to listen to the singing of some hymns out of doors, and was finally prevailed upon to enter the hall, M. here gospel services were being held. Night after night did the old man attend these meetings, and very much impressed he was by them.
“It is true,” was R.’s answer; “it is true. I have lived seventy-eight years in sin; but will God forgive an old sinner like me?”
“Yes,” was the answer. And, seeing that the old man was truly awakened to the realization of his lost state, he was directed to the conclusion of this text, “The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” Here, then, was an anxious soul, with the burden of seventy-eight years of sins weighing him down, and God’s precious word declaring how that He has laid the sins of all who trust Him on another. What could the old man say?
“I believe, but I am not saved.”
It seemed too good to be true, too wonderful to believe, though he said he did believe.
Opening the Bible in the New Testament, the speaker turned to the Gospel of John, where it is written, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life” (John 5:2121For as the Father raiseth up the dead, and quickeneth them; even so the Son quickeneth whom he will. (John 5:21)), and said, “Well, R., will you believe if God shows it to you from His own word?”
“Indeed, I will,” replied the old man; whereon the verse we have quoted was slowly read, and a pause made at these words “hath everlasting life.”
“Is that true? is that what God says?” was R.’s anxious inquiry.
“Yes; it is God’s word,” was the answer.
“Then I am saved,” said he, with a trembling voice. “Read the verse again: ‘He that believeth HATH,’ ‘HATH everlasting life;’” and with tears he added, “I am saved―God’s Word tells me so;” and his face beamed, as he left his friend, rejoicing in a sin-pardoning God.
From that time old R.’s great delight was to tell of the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, which cleanseth us from all sin. That wonderful word all was, with his seventy-eight years of a godless life, unutterably sweet to him, and on every hand he would relate what God had done for his soul, in saving him, and in making him a monument and a witness of His mercy.
“How is it with you?” said one to him, and this was his answer: “I am all right; I am saved, because God tells me so in the fifth chapter of John, and the twenty-fourth verse; and I must not doubt Him. It was made all right for me at the mission services.”
R. found sweet communion with his Saviour, for a Saviour indeed was Jesus to him―He was his all in all. The neighbors and friends saw the change, and it became a matter of conversation among them how that old R. was a new man.
After his conversion those who had been used to this gracious end left the neighborhood for some months, carrying the gospel elsewhere. It was only a few weeks ago the neighbors told old R. that the same preacher was about to return for some days’ mission work in the neighborhood.
“Aye! it can’t be true that I’m going to hear him again,” said R. “Yes, it is,” his friend answered him, and, holding out his hand, he added, “See, here are some of the announcements of his coming.”
R. hastened home, and wrote a letter to his Christian friends, begging them to be earnest in prayer to God, that even as He had saved him, so now others might be saved by the preaching of His servant who was corning once more to the neighborhood, adding in his letter, “I am afraid I shall not hear him again.”
The next morning old R.’s familiar form, with his tall hat and stick, was to be seen hastening about his neighborhood, calling at the houses where he had been wont in former times on Sunday mornings to sell his newspapers. But his hand was now full of messages of mercy, and, as he knocked at house after house, he begged the people to come and hear words whereby they might be saved. It was a great joy to him to go from door to door, for Christ was dwelling in his heart by faith, and his hopes were high for the prosperity of the mission. Thus some hours passed by, till old R. grew weary. At length he came to a house where his efforts to make the people hear were in vain, though he rapped often enough at their dm with his stick. But he was not to be denied entrance, if entrance were possible. So he bustled round the back way, and in so doing fell over a piece of wire, and in the fall broke his ribs.
When the people picked him up he said “I thought I should not hear him again;” I and as he was being carried away he smiled, saying, “My name is Enoch. Tell them that Enoch walked with God.” And then, faint as he was, he sang as best he could some lines of a favorite hymn―
“My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
For Thee all the pleasures of sin I resign” ―
and added, “Oh, how glad I am my sins were all laid on Him!”
Dear old R.’s hours were fast coming to their end. Though he suffered greatly, he spent his last moments telling all who were around him that his place was prepared in the home above, and that he was going to be put to sleep by Jesus. He had one desire―he wished to see the man whom God had used to the salvation of his soul before he passed away. But he was not yet in the place, as the services were not to be held for some few days, so that the hope seemed vain. However, unknown to him, a telegram was sent to the evangelist, who immediately set out to see him. Thus they met, not only to bid each other farewell, but to unite in yet one song of thanksgiving, for dear old R. would sing once more with his feeble, dying voice the hymn he loved so well.
“I will love Thee in life, I’ll love Thee in death,
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
And say when the death-dew lies cold on my brow―
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now!”
R. H. H.