His house was within the silent precincts of the great old cathedral of—, and, as it fell to my lot to work twice or three times a week in the library of the dean and chapter there, I took the opportunity from time to time of calling to see him after the library closed, or before it opened, the hours granted for work there being very short. He was old and very feeble, it might almost be said fragile, and, to the constant irritation of his sensitive and independent spirit, he was now compelled to lean, as he had never brooked to lean before, upon the kind offices and loving services of the members of his household.
He was an interesting man: a skillful musician, bright and vigorous in intellect, and penetrated with a keen sense of justice and honor, as between man and man. Strictly honorable in his own dealing, he looked for the like on the part of others, and was a little apt to be impatient of everything like unreality. Nor was this the only side of his character; humorous too he was, and perhaps a shade cynical in the expression of his judgment, but kind and tender withal, and so thoroughly gentle that the beautiful canaries which were the admiration of his many favored young friends, used to hop about fearlessly on his head and shoulders, and even settle on his hand.
He had formerly made a religious profession, and had even for a time taken a place among a company of Christians gathered to the Lord’s name alone, but, it is feared, thought little of the place he had taken, and certainly had never known, in his own soul and conscience, what it is to be justified from all things in Christ, to have peace with God, and to be in the present enjoyment of His favor. That favor, dear reader, “is better than life.”
As he advanced towards a good old ago, his sight failed, and when I began to visit him, he was already almost totally blind; not yet confined to bed, but a great sufferer. It was suggested that I should read to him, and this I gladly did, thankful for the privilege of being permitted in ever so small a degree to do what might even momentarily dispel the cheerless feelings which settled upon my dear sightless friend; and silently looking above for a word to drop in from time to time about Him who alone can bring the cheer of God’s eternal love into the world-worn, sin-sick heart.
I read to Mm a book which had but a short time before been published. In this book the hollowness of modern Christianity was unsparingly exposed. It was a book which I could not recommend to anyone, but it interested him greatly. It fell in with his disposition to reject what he felt to be unreal, and the pungency of the author’s observations delighted him. Alas! talented as he, was, and correct as his destructive criticism undoubtedly was in its way, the author himself knew nothing of the reality of Christianity—nothing of the divine simplicity of the gospel, nothing! of eternal life, and of the righteousness of God. He saw the ruin, and the, bellow unreality, but as a man of the world may see it, and he knew nothing of the resources of faith in the midst of the hopeless wreck as God has made it known. The only thing that he had to suggest was voluntary humility and will worship, after the commandments and doctrines of men.
To the solemn realities which the Bible reveals I now sought to point the dear old man, and besought his permission to bring with me and read to him an article in the first volume of “Present Testimony,” which presented itself to me as one which the Lord might use to his soul. To the course proposed he courteously assented, and, as he was by this time entirely, or almost entirely confined to his bed, it may be that He who graciously prepares the heart for the entrance of His word had wrought by His Spirit, now that the natural strength of the man was drawing near to the nothingness which it is in the grave, to bring him to a deeper conviction of the utter need and helplessness of one in his condition, than he was at first willing to confess. His life was yet to see the light.
He listened attentively, and with an awe-stricken quietness. Well do I remember the day on which we reached page 185. The volume, worn and torn, lies before me. These are the words that were read to him (he was, ere this page was reached, already touched with the conviction of his lost state as a sinner).
“Christ... bore the sins of many, and appeared to put away sin, has glorified God about it in righteousness in that momentous hour. He took what I had earned; I get the fruit of what He has done.....My acceptance is according to the value of Christ’s sacrifice in God’s sight; coming with that is confession of righteous exclusion in myself, not of improvement in state; I come with Christ in my hand, so to speak, my slain Lamb; and the testimony is to my gift. God looks at that when I thus come by it, not at my state, which so coming is confessedly that of a sinner, and only a sinner, as to his own title, shut out from God.”
‘But must not I accept Christ?’
“Ah, through the blessedest testimonies of God’s ways towards us in grace. I say, Here is Christ on God’s part for you—God’s Lamb; you answer, But must not I?.... It is no reproach I make; it is human nature, my nature in the flesh; but know that in me there is no good thing. But tell me, ‘Would you not be glad to have Him?”
‘Surely I should.’
“‘Then your real question is not about accepting Him, but whether God has really presented Him to you, and eternal life in Him.’ A simple soul would say, ‘Accept! I am only too thankful to have Him!’ but as all are not simple, one word on this also. If you have offended some one grievously, and a friend seeks to offer him satisfaction, who is to accept it?”
‘Why, the offended person, of course.’
‘Surely. And who was offended by your sins?’
‘Why, God, of course.’
‘And who must accept the satisfaction?’
‘Why, God must.’
“That is it. Do you BELIEVE HE HAS ACCEPTED IT?”
“Undoubtedly I do—”
“And is—”
‘Satisfied.’
“And are not you?”
“Oh! I see it now. Christ has done the whole work, and God has accepted it, and there can be no more question as to my guilt or righteousness. He is the latter for me before God. It is wonderful! and yet so simple! But why did I not see it? How very stupid!
“That is faith in Christ’s work, not our accenting it, gladly as we do, but believing God has. You have no need to inquire now whether you believe. The object is before your soul, seen by it: what God has revealed is known by seeing it thus by faith. You are assured of that, not of your own state.”
As these words were read to the dear sufferer, God who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, shone in his heart. As he told another afterward, it was as though the light all through was breaking through the darkness. Blessed be God every difficulty of unbelief was gone, and Christ, the blessed object of faith, filled his heart.
After this I saw little of him, and he was, ere many months were over, taken from the scene in which his heart for a long lifetime had sought the satisfaction which nothing under the sun can yield. He is absent from the body, present with the Lord, till that blessed moment now so near, when the power of Him in whose face God’s glory shone into him, will claim’ in glorious incorruptibility the precious dust which has returned till then to the earth. J. T.