I shall never forget the conversion of an old man who I had often heard talking noisily in the street. I heard he was very ill, and could not shake off the burden that he was not ready, and that I ought to go and see him. I tried hard to satisfy myself that others would be sure to visit him, who were able to tell him, so much better than I could, of a Saviour’s love to the sinner. I was young, and had seen little of illness, but the Lord would not allow me to forget that soul, and that He wished me to go, weak as I was.
One day found me near the house, but feeling too timid to visit him, asking a woman who lived near how he was, and expressing what I hoped, that Christians visited him. The answer was “No.” She did not think anyone went to see him. And now came a struggle. Could 1 go? What could I say? And yet I could not leave that road. There was a precious soul dying without Christ. After walking up and down the road, looking up for strength, I went to the door. A feeble voice said, “Come in.”
I cannot now remember those visits, it was so long ago, only that I believe the lost one was found. The last visit will never be forgotten. His daughter met me at the door. He was sinking fast, and would not know me. As I stood by his bedside I remembered the words he had liked me to read to him, and I repeated slowly, “The Lord is my Shepherd.” The dying eyes opened with a look of recognition. He could not speak, but looking up he raised his arm and pointed upwards. Then the eyes closed. Peace and rest were written upon that face. What a triumph of grace; the terrible burden of sin gone, the soul resting upon a perfect work, a living Saviour.
“Thou hast washed me in Thy blood;
Made me live and live to God.”
“Passed from death unto life.”
A. A. L.