TOWARDS the close of the year 1848, I left the headquarters of my regiment, and proceeded in command of two companies to an outpost about one hundred and fifty miles distant from the cantonment in which I was then stationed. After a few days' march, I arrived at the pretty village of S—. The little station contained only two or three Europeans besides my subaltern and myself. It was beautifully situated in a lovely undulating spot, surrounded on all sides by a magnificent teak forest, abounding with game of almost every description, from the bison to the peacock. Some time after my arrival, I gave my subaltern a month's leave to accompany two brother officers, who had come out from headquarters on a shooting excursion.
Consequently I was left alone in my little cottage, upon the outskirts of a luxuriant jungle.
The events which followed enable me plainly to recognize the Lord's hand in thus leaving me for a time bereft of all companionship. His purpose was love.
Naturally extremely fond of society, and accustomed to enter deeply into all its amusements and allurements, I at first felt my solitude burdensome. But it was not long ere the Spirit of the Lord began the glorious work of my soul's conversion.
A rustic bridge, built by my own men in their leisure hours over a deep nullah, or bed of a stream, led into a lovely spot, teeming with wild flowers, creepers, and gorgeous parasites, the dense foliage of huge forest trees forming a grateful protection from the rays of a tropical sun. Here, day by day, I often strolled along the winding tracts worn by the feet of the woodcutters and shikarees, or native hunters, and amidst the wondrous beauties which surrounded me, the Lord made His own still small voice to be heard in my soul.
In my youth I had been carefully brought up, and a Christian mother's precepts and examples were then before me; the Word of God was in my hand, and her endeavor was ever to lead me in the paths of wisdom.
Early emancipated from home, however, by a commission in the Indian army, the counsels I had received in youth were speedily disregarded, and I eagerly entered upon the, alas! too common, course of sin and folly. It is unnecessary to go into details: suffice it to say that the Word of God lay dusty and neglected on my book-shelf, and even the very form and semblance of religion was gradually thrown aside. This continued up to the period of which I am now writing.
During one of my solitary forest rambles, the following text recurred forcibly to my mind:— "Whosoever hath, to him shall be given; and whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he seemeth to have " (Luke 8:1818Take heed therefore how ye hear: for whosoever hath, to him shall be given; and whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he seemeth to have. (Luke 8:18)).
These words I must have learned in former days.
Over and over again they rang in my ears. I paused, and some such reflections as the following ensued:— This surely is my case—these words are indeed applicable to me. When I was a child, in a measure I feared God, and was in the habit of bending my knee to Him; but, alas! even this duty has been discontinued many years, and the practice wholly laid aside.
For some time I tried to banish these thoughts, but in vain. In the evening, whilst sitting after dinner, again was the text of the morning vividly present with me. I thought of my home; I thought of my mother, and of her many earnest appeals to me, orally and by letter, urging me to turn to the Lord.
Presently it occurred to me that several whom I had known had become good men, and the thought struck me that I also might follow in their steps, and add one to their number.
Alas! how little did I then know what really constituted a good man in the eyes of the Lord.
How little did I know of the deep mystery involved in the term, "good man." Like all the unconverted, I blindly imagined that abstaining from grosser wickedness, frequenting a church, reading the Bible, and saying morning and evening prayers, fully comprised every requisite for the salvation of the soul.
I now began to offer formal prayers in my closet, This continued some days, when one night (I remember it well, it was Friday, the 16th of February 1849), as I retired to rest, the Spirit of the Lord brought to my mind a passage from one of my mother's letters, that " without a change of heart all religion was vain." I lay upon my bed for some time in deep reflection, and frequently, ere I closed my eyes in sleep, repeated these words: "Lord, change my heart!" “Lord, change my heart!” Little did I then imagine what that change of heart involved; the next morning, however, the Lord revealed it to me.
I was pacing the verandah in front of my cottage, thinking upon the subject which had lately so engrossed my attention, when on a sudden I was almost, as it were, struck to the earth. The fearful catalog of my sins seemed to pass in dark array before me with overwhelming celerity. Tears gushed from my eyes, and I felt riveted to the spot. The events of my life, occupying nearly forty years, appeared compressed into a few moments. I was nearly stunned by the powerful agitation of my feelings, and I scarcely know how to attempt to convey to the reader the state of mind into which I was thrown.
Though in a manner crushed under the awful visitation, still a gleam of hope ran through the whole of my thoughts for a crucified Savior was revealed to me, and that so powerfully, that I felt He had died for the very sins then presented to my mind. I audibly exclaimed, “Then it's all true—this is conversion!”
That morning will never be effaced from my recollection. I have ever looked on the 17th of February 1849 as my spiritual birthday. The whole of that day and the next were passed in deep sorrow, and much prayer. The Bible, which up to that time had remained unopened, now became my constant companion. My spirit drank in its precious and glorious promises to all who believe in the Lord Jesus, and I was now enabled, by the mercy of God, in some measure to appreciate and appropriate them to myself.
On the third morning great joy filled my heart, and the Spirit itself bore witness with my spirit that I was a son of God. A change so striking had taken place, that at times I was awe-struck with the magnitude of it. Old things had passed away; behold, all things had become new? I have often since thought that had I at darkest midnight suddenly seen the sun rise in all its splendor, I could not have been more astonished than by the change effected by my conversion.
The Holy Spirit was now much with me, and led me as a little child. Peace and happiness filled my soul, and truly I went daily on my Zionward way rejoicing.
Never have I since, nor perhaps ever shall I again on this side Jordan, experience such uninterrupted joy as at this period of my Christian course; and the words of the sweet poet of Olney have frequently been most forcibly brought to my mind:—
“Where is the blessedness I knew
When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul refreshing view
Of Jesus and His word?”
Shortly after this my subaltern and his two friends returned from their shooting excursion.
I did not give them time even to take off their shooting dress, before I related to them what had happened. And earnestly indeed did I beg and entreat them to turn to the Lord.
I may here inform the reader that all three were solemnly impressed with my altered manner, and the words I was permitted to put before them.
No long afterward two of them were markedly converted; the other put his hand to the plow, but has "looked back," and is at present in the world. Of the two converted, one is now with the Lord Jesus, the Savior, whom he truly loved and served ere he was called away. The other is to this day a bold and zealous servant of his Master.
I now spoke of Christ Jesus and Him crucified, in season and out of season, and He gave me souls.
The change which had been wrought within me made me very anxious for the salvation of all men, but more particularly of those with whom I had been intimately acquainted.
The case of three friends in particular caused me much thought. With them I had passed very many what I then considered happy days. And indeed, to my unconverted taste they were happy, for the men I allude to had many endearing qualities. All three were in the service, and the circumstances attending their death led to the writing of this tract. The officers I allude to were Captain J—, of the infantry, Captain K—, of the cavalry, and Captain E—, of the engineers.
Captain J— was on duty within twenty miles of my detachment, and frequently paid me a visit.
Of him I shall first speak.
During one of these visits, shortly after my conversion, I warmly pressed upon him the necessity of his turning to Jesus, if he would ever see life.
The Spirit of the Lord evidently strove with him, and he became for a time much softened. I noticed in his manner and conversation, moreover, a marked change. This, alas was but transient.
He came over to me one morning with a letter in his hand, saying he had received an invitation from his regiment, recently arrived at a station not far from where we were, to go down and see them.
He had not met his brother officers for some time, and expressed his determination to go. Knowing his disposition, I trembled for him, and endeavored to prevail upon him to refuse, but in vain. He went, and my fears were realized. He returned in about ten days, with every solemn impression apparently effaced.
I endeavored to re-direct his thoughts into the current in which for a little season they had flowed.
But no, his heart appeared as adamant, and he became petulant and impatient whenever I spoke to him on the subject.
At this time a minister of the gospel visited our little station. I mentioned to him my anxiety about Captain. J—, and in the evening, after dinner, the Rev. Mr. A—read the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, speaking very solemnly and forcibly upon it.
The next day Mr. A— was going to preach the gospel and administer the Lord's Supper in the collector's cutcherry. I was young in the Christian life then, and did what I should never think of now, viz., urged my friend to go to the Lord's Table, adding, as far as I can remember, something to this effect, " Come to the service, and stay to the Lord's Supper. If you stay I shall have some hope of you, if otherwise I shall have none." He came to the service, and my eye was frequently upon him. At the end of the sermon I saw him remove his cap from under his seat, and then hesitatingly replace it. This he did once o twice, when suddenly he took it up and quitted the room.
Two or three days after this, I left with my detachment to rejoin the headquarters of my regiment. I took leave of my friend Captain J—, who was then in perfect health—a strong, powerful young man.
My march occupied ten or twelve days, and almost immediately after my arrival at headquarters I received a letter, which I found contained the fearful news of my poor friend's death.
It appears he had been suddenly seized with violent inflammation, speedily inducing delirium. The doctor who attended him was a Christian man, and from his lips I have since heard that he had no reason to hope any change had taken place in him.
A few weeks after this startling event, receiving an appointment on the staff, I proceeded to the Presidency, and thence met Captain K—, of the cavalry, who had just returned from England. At my first interview I put before him the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, and used every argument I was master of, in the hope of being the instrument in the Lord's hand of saving his soul. He turned the subject into ridicule, and I left much cast down. A few days afterward, however, a gleam of hope beamed upon me. I received from him a note, saying he had been thinking over the subject of our conversation, and would like to hear from me further on the matter. I have often doubted, from the sequel of our interview, whether my poor friend wrote to me in sincerity or in jest.
I visited him. His manner at first appeared changed and earnest. We were some time together, and I tried much to lead him to Jesus, but was eventually obliged to leave him, as he made use of a fearfully blasphemous expression, in reference to something I had just said to him.
This unhappy meeting between Captain K— and myself was our last on earth. He died, I think, about three weeks afterward at B—.
The third friend I have mentioned, Captain E—, was in England at the time of my conversion, but I had written to him very urgently about his soul. His reply was light, and gave me little hope of success. With Captain E— I had been more intimate than with either of the others, and I anxiously looked forward to seeing him, when I hoped to be more successful orally than with my pen. In a few months he arrived from England. At first we were together several times, he corning to my house but gradually he became offended, and shunned my society.
The last time we met was one morning out walking, when he told me he was leaving the Presidency the next day. I took him aside, and affectionately urged upon him the necessity of fleeing to the Lord Jesus ere it may be too late.
Among other things, he said, “You, I suppose, consider yourself one of God's elect." I told him by mercy I was so, and that he might be one also, if he would close with the gracious offers of the Lord Jesus Christ. His reply I shall not give.
Though not so blasphemous as Captain K—'s, it was thoughtless and wicked. I shook hands for the last time with poor E—.
I made no memorandum of the date, but, as far as I now recollect, it was not many days afterward that I saw his death recorded in the newspaper I do not know the particulars of his last moments. All I heard was, that he died suddenly from an affection of the throat, and I have no reason to believe that any spiritual change had taken place since our last interview.
It is said, "Truth is stranger than fiction:” is it not forcibly illustrated in these "Three Warnings "?
I have given a simple narrative of actual occurrences. I will not dare to say that the Lord had permitted me to make the last offer of mercy to these poor souls ere sudden destruction came upon them; I leave the reader to judge: but it has ever been strongly impressed upon my mind that it was, in each case, the last effort with the fruitless tree ere He said, "Cut it down!”
I know that of those into whose hands this little book may fall, some will say that it is a fiction got up by psalm-singing hypocrites—others, that if the events did happen, it was by mere chance.
No, dear reader, no! What I have written is solemn truth, and will, I doubt not, be recognized and remembered by many; for I have often told the story myself, when urging upon the unconverted the uncertainty of life, and the necessity of fleeing for refuge to the only hope set before them in Christ Jesus.
These things are ordered, and ordered in mercy, to warn sinners that now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.
Put not down this paper lightly; it contains an awful, a solemn, a true picture of God's visitation upon those who refuse His proffered grace “Turn ye, turn ye; for why will ye die?”
“Come, let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”
Remember, O remember, while it is called today, the Lord Jesus stands with open arms ready to receive you. He will never, never cast you out; the way is made all clear, the uttermost farthing is paid.
There is nothing for you to do; Jesus has done all.
Look at 2 Cor. v. 19, 20, and there you will read, “God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation.” And Paul continues: "Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God.”
Here is the mighty God Himself beseeching sinners to come and be friends with Him, through Jesus the Son of His love.
Then “come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”
Will you refuse? Think not that you cannot go just as you are, and at this very moment. Think not that you must first repent and be sorry for your sin. Go to Jesus; repentance is His gift. (See Acts 5:3131Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins. (Acts 5:31).) “Him hath God, exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Savior, for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins.”
You will never know godly sorrow for sin until you go to Jesus. Go to Him, as expressed in the two following lines:—
“Nothing in my hands I bring, Simply to Thy cross I cling.”
Go to Him, dear reader; He is a loving, He is a tender Savior, and then shall you know the wonders of the great change of conversion. Then shall you know "the secret of the Lord.”
I urge upon you, Go to Jesus. Let not the idea, that you may possibly not be one of His elect, give you a moment's uneasiness. All are His elect who simply believe in Him Dr. Chalmers used to complain that many preachers and writers so laid down the gospel, that a sinner could not take it up. What they stated sounded very like the gospel, but yet it contained no "glad tidings"; for it still left the sinner something to do, or to feel, before he could consider himself qualified to partake of its joys. It affirmed a certain kind of freeness in the gospel, but so hampered with conditions, cautions, and restrictions, that no sinner, just as a sinner, could think himself at liberty to enter at once into peace with God. It did not bring salvation nigh, or at least so nigh as to be in contact with the sinner; it left a gulf, or at least a space, between him and the Savior. It set forth repentance, contrition, mortification, as pre-requisites, to the acquiring of which the sinner was to direct all his efforts before he was warranted to throw himself into the arms of the Savior.
It was jealous of a speedy settlement between the sinner and his God; nay, it warned men against such a thing as a delusion. It made doubting the evidence of believing, as if it had been written, not "he that believeth is justified," but “he that doubteth is justified." "For a man to doubt was the essence of true humility; to continue doubting was the mark of increasing humility; to fall into despondency, so as to conclude that God had forsaken him, and that his day of grace was gone, was proof of the deepest lowliness of spirit that could be conceived. This despondency was the true state of soul in which he could best acquire that ' poverty of spirit,' that meekness,' that ' pureness of heart,' by obtaining which he would at length find himself qualified to come to Christ, and entitled to the peace of the cross!”
But, dear reader, all this is the very reverse of God's plan. Hear the words of the Lord Jesus Himself “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:1616For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)).
Again: " 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; but is passed from death unto life” (John 5:2424Verily, 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; but is passed from death unto life. (John 5:24)).
Denham Smith has said with regard to this text, that it is as though the Lord let down from heaven three golden links in the chain of His mercy.
These links are—Hearing, believing, having. But SATAN forges the three iron fetters—Doing, feeling, praying.
Think not, my friend, for one moment that would counsel your not praying. Prayer is the life and breath of the Christian's soul; but you must believe before your prayer is acceptable to God.
You will, I am sure, admit, that to make God a liar is a fearful thing. Only believe, and you shall have joy and peace. Then will your prayer be as incense, and the lifting up of your hands as the evening sacrifice.
Man is ever prone to do something for himself—too proud to accept as a free gift that which Jesus has done for him. Set a man the hardest task, and tell him that the accomplishment of this would save his soul, and I verily believe he would endeavor to perform it. Man's own idea ever is Doing. Mark the question put to the Lord Jesus in John 6:28, 2928Then said they unto him, What shall we do, that we might work the works of God? 29Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent. (John 6:28‑29): “What shall we do, that we might work the works of God? Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.”
When the jailer at Philippi said to Paul and Silas, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" did they answer, "Go and pray," or give him any other of the too numerous replies made to anxious souls?
No their words were, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.”
He rejoiced.
The same shall happen to you, dear reader, if you will follow his steps. Only believe.
Close then, this moment, with the offers of Jesus. He came “not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." If, dear reader, you feel yourself a sinner, it is enough. Go to Jesus, say to Him, “I do believe, blessed Lord. Thou didst die upon the cross for my sins, and upon Thy precious head was laid the iniquity of us all. I accept Thy gift of eternal life. Give me Thy Spirit, and henceforth give me grace to follow Thee whithersoever Thou leadest.”
Be sure, yes, be sure, the Spirit of Jesus will never lead you into the company of the worldly, the (unconverted, except you go solely and entirely as a missionary for Him.
The moment you give yourself to Jesus, you must come out from the world and be separate, and touch not the unclean thing. Oh, what fearful mistakes many dear children of God even make upon this subject! They seem entirely to forget that there are only two classes—the converted and the (unconverted, the children of God and the children of the wicked one.
In conclusion, let me urge upon you to delay not a moment; wait not in the vain hope of being able to lay aside the sin which may easily beset you, but go to Jesus. He is the author, and He is the finisher of our faith.
For a man to suppose he can leave off his sins before going to Jesus is one of Satan's most subtle and dangerous delusions. Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; and it is only by being united to Him that we are enabled to resist temptation, and run with patience the race set before us.
May the Lord Jesus bless this paper to the souls of very many into whose hands it may fall; and to Him be all the glory now and forever. ANON.