ONLY one step! “That is not much,” says one; “Anybody can take it,” says another; “Nothing to make a fuss about,” says a third; “But I dare you to take it,” cries a fourth. No doubt we are all well acquainted with this kind of argument. Now I am going to tell you of “one step” that I would have taken, but was not allowed, and of another step that I was forced to take, and for both of which I am now able to thank and to praise God.
Only a step! Yes, only a step, but where? Ah! that is the question. It is all very pleasant and easy to walk out in the light, but what about the dark? All very well to walk upon the even earth, but what about wading through the water?
Yes, only a step not taken, and yet the thought of it robbed me of sleep, and changed the purpose of my life. The incident occurred many years ago. Since that time numbers of things have happened to me, and have been long forgotten; but this is as fresh and green as ever, and no doubt will remain so to the end of the chapter.
It happened thus: I had gone to Rams-gate to spend a few days, taking my faithful companions — my books; and one morning, having, started out as usual for an early walk before breakfast, I was returning by way of Dumpton, around the East Cliff Lodge, the residence of the late Sir Moses Montefiore. Busy with my book, I walked on, not thinking where I was going, when suddenly a light from beneath flashed into my eyes, startling me, and causing me to step back. I had reached the edge of the cliff! The flash was caused by the sun suddenly breaking through the cloud upon the chalk beneath, and but for that I should have taken the one more step that would have been my last. Little did I think then that this lighting of the eye was but a prelude to the illumination of the mind.
Recovering myself, I resumed my reading, and walked home, without any feeling of gratitude for deliverance, or even a thought of danger. So the days wore on. But holidays have an end as well as a beginning. And here I must tell my reader, that having lost my father in infancy,’ was wholly dependent upon the counsels of a dear mother, and faithfully she discharged her trust. My very earliest recollections are of the hymns and the passages from the Bible that she taught me. Had I at the time of which I am writing been asked, “Are you a Christian?” I should certainly have answered, “Yes.” And yet I was not in Christ; I had yet to learn this. And oh! dear reader, have you learned it?
Once more at home, I must of course tell all the little details since I had left it; and so the incident of the edge of the cliff was rated. This greatly excited my poor mother. Why was I so heedless? She might never have seen me again.
When night came, and I retired to bed, I hoped that sleep would soon come and hush the feelings my mother’s words had aroused; but there was neither sleep nor rest for me that night. No sooner had I lain down than there came to me once more a bright light. I was upon the edge of the cliff, only, and below, the rugged rock; and looking upon this, and for the first time seeing the danger, I heard a voice saying to me, “Only one step more! Only one, and it would have been your last. Only one, and you would have stepped out from time into eternity.” And then the same small, still voice asked me one question, only one question: “Where would you have gone?” and everything in the room echoed “Where?”
No wonder I could not sleep. I was only too glad when morning came, and I could lose myself in the busy day; and so I did. But the longest day has an end, and night came again, and I lay down, having almost forgotten the past night; but the Good Shepherd had not forgotten me. Once more in the dark, back came the old question: “Where would you have gone?”
This time my soul had to make an answer, and what could I say? I could not get away from the fact that I should have gone into the presence of God unprepared. I had heard of a Saviour who came to earth to die for sinners — yes, to save the worst; but I had never been taught of a personal Saviour. I had prayed for others, but what about myself?
Awful is the thought that while God is love, yet that the impenitent will be banished from His presence. In my distress I cried for salvation, and then the voice of Jesus was heard: “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” And, taking the Saviour at His word, I was able in spirit to cry―
“Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come!”
And then the cloud was removed, the mists rolled away, and a new song was put into my mouth.
And now, dear reader, have you found the Lord Jesus Christ as your own personal Saviour? If so, you can rejoice with me. If not, seek Him at once, and you shall find Him. You have entered upon a new year.
One step more! Whither are you going?
W. T. N.