DURING the summer months of 1886 I was often asked by a Christian mother to visit her son, a pensioner of the Royal Artillery at Guernsey, who was in a decline, Although I often sought an opportunity to speak to him, and daily passed his house on the way to my office, as often did he avoid me. But one day I came upon Robert G. as he was sitting in the heat of the sun upon a wall, from which he could not get away easily, so I at once spoke to him about his soul, and told him, if he responded to the “come” of the Lord Jesus, He would keep him safely, and give him to know the certainty of being saved, and of having eternal life, and also that He would give him the enjoyment of beholding “what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.” (1 John 3:11Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not. (1 John 3:1))
Robert stopped me rather abruptly with― “Ah! it is too late! too late! I have been bad―very bad―and it is too late.” I at once told him that it was not too late—that Christ Jesus had come into the world to seek and to save the lost—but Robert only replied, “Too late, too late.”
The ice being broken, I visited Robert daily, reading and praying with him, but only to find him become more miserable and unhappy. The weight of his sins, and the thought of his soon having to appear before the judgment throne, filled him with despair. One day Robert was weaker than usual, and in deep distress, and while praying by his side the blessed presence of the Good Shepherd was realized in a peculiar manner. Then I took the poor, feeble body in my arms, and cried to God, and wept for Robert’s precious soul, till at last I felt constrained to say, “Oh, Lord, I cannot let him go till Thou hast saved him!” Then, as we both wept and prayed, Robert whispered, “I will, I will,” and that moment he cast his all on Christ, his sins were forgiven, and he was accepted in the Beloved.
After this Robert’s cup was as full of joy as it had been previously of dread and misery, and for three months his joy was delightful to witness.
In the month of November his end was evidently drawing near. As his mother watched by his side during the night he raised his arms in ecstasies of joy, crying, “Come, Jesus, and take me home”; also affirming that a chariot of glory was waiting for him. His face, though his pain was great, beamed with joy. On the afternoon following, at two p.m., he was seated in bed, struggling for breath, and in great pain. When I saw him he at once recognized me, and said, “Pray.” We specially pleaded with the Lord, if it were His will, to take away the excessive suffocation and the pain, then quickly left the room. In the evening, on calling again, his mother said she had never seen prayer answered so quickly before, for no sooner had I left than Robert requested to be laid down, and the pain departed.
When Robert caught sight of me he again cried, “Pray.” After prayer he looked eagerly towards a particular spot in the room, and smiled, his face lighting up as if with a foretaste of heaven’s glory. This he did a few times, and then three times he said, “Pray,” and three times we knelt in prayer. He then said, “Sing,” and we sang with broken voices.