TUESDAY, July 20th, 1858.—Taylor, 23, Coalpit Lane. Getting worse. Asked me whether I thought he could recover or not. I told him that I feared not, but said that the great matter was to be prepared for anything that might come, and asked him if he could say he was ready to die.
T. “I am afraid I cannot.”
Dr. “Well, you know that there is but one way, if Jesus Christ came into the world to seek and to save that which was lost.”
T. “Ah! that’s what I want—to be saved and have my sins forgiven, but I’ve been trying forever so long. I’ve been praying and reading, but I am as far off as ever.”
Dr. “I’m glad you think so. Nobody ever was saved by reading and praying, and doing good works; or ever will be as long as the world lasts.”
T. “Then how can anyone be saved?”
Dr. “The Lord Jesus Christ says, ‘Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out’; and again in another place it is said, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ None that ever came to Christ was lost.”
Mrs. Taylor. “But is that sufficient? Haven’t we to read and pray, and give up worldly desires and objects before we can be saved?”
Dr. “No, we have simply to believe that Christ died on the cross to put away our sins there, and we are saved.”
Mrs. T. “But haven’t we to get faith? How can we believe without faith, and how can we get it?”
Dr. “‘Ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’ God will give you faith if you ask Him, believing that you shall get it; and all these things will be added then. You cannot be saved by them, for you cannot do them, as they are the fruits of the Spirit; and you have not got the Spirit till you are forgiven.”
T. “That’s blessed news! I’ll think of that by the time you call again, sir.”
Thursday, July 22nd.—Taylor worse, pain in chest and side for the first time today.
Saturday, July 24th.—Taylor. Still slowly sinking. Says that he has thought about what I told him on the 20th, and prayed that God would give him faith to believe on Him. I pointed Him again to the only Saviour of souls, and left him the tract, “I do depend upon the blood.”
Tuesday, July 27th.—Taylor says that he has. attentively read the tracts, and liked them much. Still prays for salvation.
Thursday, July 29th.—Taylor worse. Through the mercy of God he has at last given up all hope of saving himself, and clings only to Christ, trusting Him for both time and eternity. He is calm and peaceful now, and says that he shall not now fear to meet the last great enemy, death, and the grave.
3 p. m. Taylor. Dropsy. 8 p.m. Extremities cold.
Friday, July 30th.—Sinking fast. Cannot live very many hours. Fully sensible of his condition, and rejoicing in the love of God manifested by the sending of His Son to die for him. Says that he quite longs to be gone to be with Jesus. That name seems to have a charm to him more than ordinary. At the mention of it his face brightens, and his whole appearance shows how he appreciates the value of that name. He bade me Good-bye, saying that perhaps we should never meet again here, but certainly we should in heaven, and concluded by saying, “God bless you, sir, for what you have done for me, and let Him be thanked that He sent you to me.”
The readers of the above may be interested to hear that exactly seven weeks from that day both patient and doctor were together again, no longer in that little close room, but forever with Christ, “the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me,” as each had learned to know.
In the young medical student’s pocketbook were found the following lines, which have already appeared in print, but may not be out of place here:
Banks of the Clwyd, May 6th, 1858.
Oh! I have been at the brink of the grave,
And stood on the edge of its deep, dark wave,
And I thought in the still, calm hours of night
Of those regions where all is ever bright;
And I fear’d not the wave of the gloomy grave,
For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.
And I have watched the solemn ebb and flow
Of life’s tide which was fleeting sure though slow;
I’ve stood on the shore of eternity
And heard the deep roar of its rushing sea;
Yet I fear’d not the wave of the gloomy grave,
For I knew that Jehovah was mighty to save.
And I found that my only rest could be
In the death of the One who died for me;
For my rest is bought with the price of blood
That gush’d from the veins of the Son of God.
So I fear not the wave Of the gloomy grave,
For I know that Jehovah is mighty to save.