MINNIE F―was, this time last year, a bright, good-looking young girl, with every appearance of health and strength. One of her relatives but recently remarked, “To look at her, you might have taken a lease on her life.”
A situation being obtained for her, she was found daily, and consequently in all weathers, going to and from her work, but with no complaint, only proud that her hands could help in keeping herself and her two sisters, who, alone in London, without parents, were dependent on their own exertions for a livelihood. After a walk-in heavy rain, and sitting in damp clothes, a cold, thought nothing of at first, kept Minnie at home, but getting no better, it was decided she should go to hospital, with the hope that she might be more quickly restored to health. No such results attended the means thus used. Disease had surely and certainly commenced its dread work, and she returned to her sisters, with the doctor’s word that there was little hope of recovery.
About this time I was asked to see her; and one day, when London was at its busiest, in preparation for all the gay scenes of the year, and “Jubilee’ was the word that passed from mouth to mouth I found my way to the lodgings which Minnie and her sisters called their home.
I was greatly struck by the sweetness of the young invalid. She seemed the pet of her sisters, and repaid their affection by her loving amiable ways.
She took the flowers I brought her with great delight, and, as she picked them from the basket, told me how she loved flowers, how she loved the country, and sometimes wished to be there again, as then she was sure she would soon be quite well, and return to her work.
No one had told her how serious was the illness. We talked together of the love of God in sending His Son; of that precious blood which alone can make the sinner fit to stand without fear in the presence of that Holy One, who loves the sinner, but hates sin. She listened, but saw not her need. She thought the world was a beautiful place where she could be quite happy without these things, and the “old old story” had no charm for her.
The two sisters were there, one of whom had recently been brought to know the Lord as her Saviour, and was now very anxious about Minnie’s salvation.
Shortly after, she was invited to stay with some of the Lord’s people in the country, with the hope that change from London might strengthen her; but above all, that she might hear and receive the glad tidings, and learn for herself of the Saviour and His love.
Minnie came full of simple, childish delight at being in the country among the flowers and trees, but something better than these good gifts awaited her. All in that house felt drawn to her, even the little ones loved her; but it was plainly seen, that she was fast nearing the end of her earthly journey, and a feeling of deep solemnity used to fill our hearts as we watched her through those days. She was just able to go to the gospel-preaching on the Lord’s Day evening, and now her interest in divine things seemed to be awakened, and rapidly to deepen. Her large brown eyes would glisten with intense earnestness, as her need, as a sinner, and God’s way of salvation was put before her. She began to be unhappy, and could not rest, and would not be left alone. “I was so fidgety,” she said, when describing to me afterward the dealings of God with her soul.
If there is one, who reads this, who knows what it is to be, as she described it, “fidgety,” that is, who feels all is not quite right, do not drown the voice that is speaking to you, telling you, you are lost. It is the “lost” Jesus came to save. If you turn away now and refuse to listen, there will come a day when you will awake to the terrible reality of being lost, but too late, lost for eternity!
“Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.”
Months passed by, and from various reasons I was prevented seeing Minnie. Constantly we heard of her increasing weakness, and how change after change had failed to do aught towards recovery. At last she was brought back to London from Bournemouth, almost too ill to travel, and then it was I again saw her.
Sadly altered was that little face. One could hardly recognize the Minnie of a few months ago; she had become so wastes, and the distressing cough gave her no rest day or night. So much for the poor body, but how now about her state of soul, her state before God? She was no longer trying to be happy without Christ, she was no longer uneasy either, she had no fears. She had learned she was by nature a lost, ruined sinner, but she had also learned that the “Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:1010For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. (Luke 19:10)). He had sought and found Minnie F―, and she was rejoicing that she was “redeemed, not with corruptible things as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ” (1 Peter 1:18,1918Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers; 19But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot: (1 Peter 1:18‑19)), and now who can tell her quiet joy and peace?
I told her gently she could never get better. Did it disturb her? no, she cared not now for this poor world, or to stay in it. She wanted to see the One who had died for her; but one wish remained, for after telling me of all the Lord had done for her, and of her rest in His great love, she said, ―and with considerable difficulty she had spoken, between the paroxysms of coughing, ― “Ask for J —,” a sister who was still unsaved. Having Christ herself, she longed for others to know Him too.
From week to week her sufferings increased, and she became almost helpless, but her trust and joy increased, and she loved to be read to from God’s Word, and to listen to those who would speak of the Lord and the joy that awaited her. She especially loved the four lines of a hymn, ―
“Ah, this is what I’m wanting,
His lovely face to see;
And I’m not afraid to say it,
I know He’s wanting me.”
Only a day or two since, and she sent one last request to see me. On arriving I found her partly unconscious, but after sitting some time beside her, she roused and knew me. I bent over and asked if she was longing to go to Jesus, and the expression on that wan little face, told of such joy, such rest and peace.
“Any fears, Minnie?” and for answer again came that sweet smile, and an effort to shake her head; her voice had gone, but by signs she made me understand her joy was in the Lord. I spoke of the bright home she was going to, and the Blessed One she was so soon to see, and as I whispered softly in her ear, “Jesus only, Jesus only,” the satisfaction she could not give utterance to was expressed by the intense look of joy and perfect peace, and the almost painful efforts she made to assent.
Together we thanked Him who had done such great things for her, and asked that she might soon be taken, if it were His will, and I said good-bye till we should meet in His presence.
A few short hours, and she was absent from the body, present with the Lord.
That farewell spoken by her bedside will ever be remembered by me. How near it brought eternity, how real it made that great love, that seeks, saves, and will not rest till “his own” are with Him where He is.
I long to convey to the reader who has not tasted this love, what that scene was, as I seemed to stand with that dear girl on the brink of eternity, she just about to enter into the very presence of her Lord, while I returned to the busy scenes and duties that awaited me; but often has the desire been impressed on me, that I must tell others this simple story. If any should read this, who think they could be happy without Christ, let them ask themselves what would he their case if brought to face eternity. What would anything this world could give avail them? Rather may you learn as did Minnie F―, that there is no happiness out of Christ. She would not have exchanged, even with all her sufferings, with you, unsaved reader, who may have health and even wealth. Christ Jesus was all in all to her. May He be all in all to you. Listen to His gracious invitation, “Come unto me” (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)), and “him that cometh unto me, I will in nowise cast out” (John 6:3737All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. (John 6:37)). M. T.
UNBELIEF is like a bat, at home and bold in darkness, whereas in the light it flounders against all objects. On the contrary, faith moves not when there is no light, but quietly waits for that which it knows will surely come. God speaks, faith hears His voice, and sees all things plainly. W. T. P. W.