MY wife, who was present at our conversation, burst into tears as soon as her father had left. She begged me to think of my foolishness, and of the dear children, who would be despised by all the Jewish children in school, when it would be known that I entertained ideas favorable to the gospel, saying, “You know bad news travels faster than good.”
I assured my wife that nothing would be done by me without asking the God of Abraham for guidance and blessing. I Only wished to do His will and live to His glory. This had the desired effect of calming her, at least for the present, which I was truly glad to see.
On returning from the office on Monday evening I found my wife weeping most bitterly, and the children around her doing the same thing. At first I could not get a word from her, but at last she said that the interview her father had with me on Saturday was too much for his advanced age, being eighty-two years old, that he had suffered a severe nervous shock, and the doctor had told her that he could not live much longer. “Oh, my dear father,” she exclaimed in the greatest agony, “I cannot bear the idea of losing you.” I hastened to see him, but to my great disappointment I was told that I could not do so unless I would promise, holding the phylacteries in my hand, that I would give up every idea of Christ and the gospel. This I felt I could not do, and I told them so. In consequence I was ordered to leave the house at once, which I did reluctantly and with regret. On my way home I meditated on what I had read in the New Testament, that he who loved father and mother more than Jesus was not worthy of Him. I was hungering and thirsting for the bread and water of life; my soul was panting after something higher and nobler than what Judaism could afford. The consolatory and heavenly instruction which I received from the gospel left such an indelible impression upon my mind that I felt that I could surrender anything and everything for Christ’s sake. On my arrival I told my wife that her father had refused to see me. To this, however, she made no reply, which was strange conduct for one who had never before treated me with silent contempt.
Early next morning I called again and made another effort to see the sick man. He was still alive, and although I begged with tears to be allowed to be admitted into his presence, if only for one moment, I was again assured that this could not be unless I promised to comply with the request of the previous night. I was so cast down that I could not eat my breakfast, and I went to the office fasting. On returning home in the evening my dear wife told me that her father was no more, and that his last words were that I was not to follow him to his grave. This was more than I could bear. The funeral day arrived, and desiring to see the last of him, I took my stand at the corner of the street where I knew the procession would pass, and as the man who rattled the tin box came near me, saying, “Tzokhah Matzel Lammoveth,” or, “Alms deliver from death,” I put in my mite. Here I stood until the crowd was out of my sight, and then I turned away sick at heart. I felt the life of my father-in-law on earth was now closed, and no earthly power could bring him to earth again—he was gone, but where? I was no longer ignorant of the great fact that Jesus had declared Himself to be “the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” as well as the “Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” Did he believe in Him? I could not say, but in my sorrowful musings I hoped that he did. I thought of eternity, that long eternity without Christ and without hope, and I trembled for his soul, and felt greatly relieved by a flood of tears.
(Extracted)