A WIDE expanse of dreary moorland, a rough wind-swept road winding through it, and on the road a solitary traveler.
Why does he pause in his onward tread, and gaze westward toward a ravine, where a thin streak of curling smoke, rising slowly behind some stunted fir-trees, proclaimed the presence of a dwelling-house? What concern had he with it? Within its walls there must be souls, immortal souls, whom he wished to warn of coming wrath, and tell of present salvation through faith in a once crucified, but now glorified Saviour.
The lonely traveler had tasted the goodness of God for himself, and his desire for all whom he came in contact with was that they might be saved. During his holidays he had betaken himself to an agricultural district, and daily o’er its leas, by its fallow fields, or across its moors he trudged, pressing his one theme―Jesus Christ, and Him crucified―on groups of laborers whom he met, on wives at cottage doors, or children at their play.
Daylight was waning, on the day of which we write, as he neared this farmhouse. He had visited nearly every habitation in a circuit of many miles, and prudence told him to pass this one by, and press toward, his lodging, ere darkness overtook him. His love of souls, however, overcame his discretion, and presently he was in the farm kitchen, speaking the gospel to its inmates as perhaps they had never heard it before.
Nature, with its ever-changing moods, worked strange freaks while he tarried. The clouds, which during the day had remained banked in heavy masses against the horizon, now overspread the sky. Thick mists enveloped each hill-top, and were stealthily creeping down their rugged slopes. As Mr. M― peered into the darkness from the threshold, he inwardly upbraided himself for his delay.
“How far have you to go tonight?” asked the farmer’s son.
Mr. M― named the village to which he was bound.
“It is six miles distant,” answered the young man; “it is impossible for you to walk so far in a night like this; the road is unfenced, and the mist will soon be over everything;” and the feeling-hearted youth turned back to the kitchen, and asked his mother to accommodate the stranger for the night. She objected to take an unknown person into the house in her husband’s absence. The usually stout heart of the evangelist failed him as he stepped from the genial light of that open door into the gloomy night.
He had gone but a short distance when the farmer’s son overtook him, and strongly advised him to give up the attempt of such a journey, “Better take shelter here till daybreak than risk losing yourself on the moors,” he said; and acting on the friendly counsel, Mr. M― returned, and was admitted to an outhouse. A lighted match revealed a heap of straw, some sacks, and an old pair of blankets.
It was the beggars’ bed!
It is customary for some farmers in the South of Scotland to reserve one of the numerous out-buildings which surround a farmhouse for the use of tramps and beggars, and many a poor waif and stray has benefited by this kindly arrangement.
Cleanliness had been a cardinal virtue in the quiet home in which Mr. M― had been reared, and he felt as though he would rather face the unpropitious elements than pass a night in such a place. A moment’s reflection on the Lowly One who had “not where to lay his head” enabled him to conquer his rising indignation. He thanked the young man for his kindness, pitched the sacks and blankets to a distant corner, and stretched his weary frame upon the straw.
“Surely God is a hard taskmaster,” says someone, “to allow His servant to come to such a strait as this.” Ah no! In telling us this incident Mr. M― said he never experienced so deeply the love of God in his soul as when lying on the beggars’ bed. “The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his Lord. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master;” and what had his Master? His birthplace a stable, His sanctuary a hillside, and His pulpit a borrowed boat.
As Mr. M― lay in the darkness communing with his God, one verse came ever uppermost, he could not tell why: “The king commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den.” A long train of praise and prayer followed, and again, “The king commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den” came forcibly to him. Sleep was beginning to assert its dominion over him, when the door opened, and the farmer’s son, lantern in hand, entered, and requested Mr. M― to come into the house.
God had been deeply exercising the inmates of that house regarding their unusual visitor. The son had spent the evening in the kitchen repairing various implements of husbandry. He did not think it necessary to tell the others that the stranger was passing the night on the premises. In the parlor the grandmother told stories of belated travelers, who had come to an untimely end, in bog or tarn, on these very moors, so effectively, that all believed Mr. M― must be lost, and his death would lie at their door. It was quite a relief when they found their fears were groundless, and the son was at once sent to bring him into the house.
No sooner was Mr. M― seated by the parlor fire than he began and preached to them Jesus. This time he found an open ear. He told them of a full, free, present, and eternal salvation through faith in the atoning work of Christ.
“I believe,” said the old woman, “that Christ died for our sins, but nobody will know till the day of judgment whether they are saved or not.”
“Do you believe all the words that the Lord Jesus said?” asked Mr. M―.
“Yes, I do,” she replied.
“Then listen to some of His words,” and he read: “‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation. (or judgment); but is passed from death unto life.’ Does the Lord say, If you believe on Him, you will get everlasting life at the judgment?”
“I have always thought that was the way,” said the honest old woman; “but I must read that verse myself in my own Bible.”
“Let me look at it, Mother,” said the mistress, who had been listening attentively, and she also read the verse.
“Yes, there it is quite plain, the one that hears and believes has everlasting life. I never saw it before, but I do believe, and I must have everlasting life. Don’t you see it, Mother?” she asked, as the joy of newly acquired blessing lighted up her face, and prompted her to urge the acceptance of this divine truth on her mother.
“No, I must be careful what I believe,” said the old woman, “for I have looked forward to be saved at the judgment day all my life.”
“Is it a pleasant prospect?” asked Mr. M―.
“No, it is not; many a night have I spent in fear and trembling, and prayed God that at that great day I might be found among the sheep at His right hand.”
“And what made you afraid at the thought of judgment?” asked Mr. M―.
“My sins,” said the old woman.
“What was it Christ bore on the cross?”
“It was sins.”
“Whose sins? Did He bear your sins?”
“Yes, yes, I believe He did.” said the old woman with fervor.
“Well, if God punished Christ for your sins, will He punish you for them too?” asked Mr. M―.
“I don’t know, that is just the thing I am not sure about.”
“Grandmother,” broke in the young man, to whom the message of God came as good news from a far country, “it is as plain as day. Christ has been punished for my sins. I will not be judged since He has been judged for me. I believe it because God says it.”
“Thank God for that,” said Mr. M―.
There was staying at the farm at this time a young man, who stood in a particularly friendly relationship to the buxom daughter of the house. These two sat a little apart from the others, and the Spirit of God stirred each of their hearts to a deep sense of their need of salvation. Yet they both hesitated, each wondering how the other would act. Reader, do not waver in your decision for Christ; your tarrying may make others linger, your acceptance smooth the way of peace to another soul.
Long and earnestly were they exhorted to believe in their heart that Christ had suffered for their sins.
“Will you believe?” asked the young woman, as she lifted her eyes to her friend.
“Will you believe?” asked he in return.
“You must both believe,” said the evangelist.
And both of them did believe, and confessed with their mouth the Lord Jesus. Thus four of that family were praising and blessing God for the gift of eternal life.
The fear of judgment continued sadly to trouble the old woman, and well may every unsaved soul tremble at the thought of it, for no one who neglects this great salvation will escape the judgment of God.
Carefully and prayerfully did Mr. M― endeavor to show her from Scripture that it was because death and judgment were such appalling realities that Christ suffered both. Sin put a great barrier between God and man, and Jesus came as Mediator and Ransom, and, on the ground of His atoning death, God can now be “just, and the justifier of him who believeth in Jesus” (Rom. 3:2626To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus. (Romans 3:26)). “Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and he in God (1 John 4:1515Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and he in God. (1 John 4:15)). Well then may the believer have boldness in the day of judgment, because as Christ is, so is he in this world (1 John 4:1717Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in this world. (1 John 4:17)).
It was a night much to be remembered in that household. Outside the threatened storm raged, within reigned the peace of God, and at length even the old grandmother was enabled to rejoice in God’s mercy without fear of judgment, and to sing by faith―
“My sins were borne by Jesus,
The Substitute from God;
He took them all, and freed me
From sin’s accursed load.
My guilt was borne by Jesus,
Who washed the crimson stains
White in His blood most precious,
Till not a spot remains.”
M.M.