WE were just at the end of our voyage.
The good ship that had brought us many thousand miles was anchored safely, and on the morrow the tender was to take us on to land once more. We numbered some three hundred souls, and, after three months’ battling with wind and water, found that there were no gaps in the muster-roll of emigrants, of all shades and grades, who had braved many dangers in search of a, new home in this transient scene. The medical officer in charge sat in his dispensary, musing over the past and present, and thinking of the future. A shade of sadness tinged his thoughts. For three months, while on the one hand compelled, on behalf of the Government, to administer law, and see justice done to all, it had been his pleasure to temper all with grace, and to endeavor to preach by act and word, the Gospel of the grace of God.
To some, blessing had accrued. Others had appeared to have been stirred, but seemed now to be intoxicated with the new scene just opening before them, and the bright visions of success in this life which they promised themselves. A large number, callous and hardened at the start, had apparently remained so throughout.
What were to be the ultimate results of that three months’ work amongst souls? How many had been stony-ground hearers? How many had allowed the thorns to come in and choke the Word? Thoughts of this kind were found in the superintendent’s cogitations.
By-and-by, one and another came to make a farewell request, or get a few last words of instruction. To each he spoke of God’s request, and on each he pressed the Word of Life.
At last there came one who had been often in the doctor’s thoughts, and the subject of his prayers.
R. B. had regularly read his Bible during the time he had been on board. His behavior had been in every respect exemplary. He had punctiliously attended the Sunday morning “prayers,” and had always been an attentive hearer at the preaching in the evening. He had never been absent from the young men’s afternoon Bible-class, and had pretty regularly taken his place amongst the few, who met for reading and prayer twice weekly, in the luggage-room, as the only place where a little quiet and seclusion were to be had. But was R. B. saved?
This question had presented itself often to the doctor’s mind, and had as often remained unanswered.
Now was the time―if ever―to find out whether the man had any foundation whereon to rest. Was he trusting to the rotten planks of good works, or was he in that ark which-surely a model of beauty―is the perfection of security?
The question was asked.
“Well, doctor,” said B., “it’s of no use for me to try to deceive; I must tell the truth. I’m not safe; I wish I was.”
Here were two most estimable things, viz., honesty, and desire for salvation, and any soul, possessing these, is not far off from the desired haven.
The plan of salvation was again put before B. as plainly as the speaker could state it, but―
“All the speaking seemed in vain,
The wished-for peace he could not gain.”
At last B. was taken to the fifth chapter of John’s gospel and 24th verse, as follows: ―
“Now, look here, B. It says, ‘He that heareth my word.’ You’ve heard that; I’m witness to it.” “Yes.”
“Next it says, ‘and believeth on him that sent me.’ Now, you have said that you believe that God sent His Son to die for you.”
“And I do.”
“Then read the next few words, ‘hath everlasting life.’ Have you got it?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, then, I must alter this verse a bit to suit you. I’ll run this pen through these words.” “But you must not, sir.”
“Why not? you give the lie to them. Anyway, I can put in a ‘not.’ I’ll make it, hath not everlasting life.’”
“But you must not alter the Bible, sir.”
“Then, B., you must believe the Bible. It is God’s Word to you and for you.”
And B. did believe the Bible, and was soon kneeling down, and thanking the Lord that his soul was saved. And in his own simple language he was heard to say, “I thank Thee that, having come here for medicine for the body, I’ve found medicine for the soul, and got rid of the burden of my sins which has troubled me so long.”
Now in Romans 10:99That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. (Romans 10:9) it says, “If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.” And this verse is called to our mind by the fact that, within five minutes of the time that B. left the dispensary, one of the Christians on board put his bead in at the door and reported that S., the greatest swearer on board, had just passed the word, “The doctor has got B. converted.”
B. had evidently not delayed long to “confess with his mouth the Lord Jesus.”
Dear reader, year after year has rolled away. Many opportunities of hearing and reading the good news have been afforded to you, ―warnings have been sent, entreaties have reached your ears. It may be that your earthly voyage is just near the end. Tomorrow―yea, this night―you may have done with this scene. Whither do you go? You may have been as moral and as religious as B. was, and, unlike him, be trusting to your morality. If so, that ignis fatuus which you are following will lead you on into an unknown country, where, a “horror of great darkness” chilling your soul, you will bewail too late your error.
Whither do you go? Go you must. Whither do you go? Don’t put off the answer. Delays, ever unsatisfactory and dangerous, are intensely so here. The “sick-bed delusion” is being exposed every day. “Can you pull me through, doctor?” says the young man, as eternity, for which he is unprepared, stares him in the face. “Can you pull me through?” says the middle-aged man, racked with pain, troubled about the concerns of his family, torn with anguish, and harassed with regrets. “Can you pull me through?” feebly murmurs the aged sinner, as—all the powers of life waning—he feels the grip of “the last enemy.”
These are the words of dying men every day, as they feel—the present slipping from beneath them—their insecurity for the future.
An old sailor whom we had known was buried today. A week or two ago he was walking about, but felt his strength waning. “It’s a good thing,” said he, “that I haven’t left the consideration of eternal things until now. I couldn’t give the necessary attention to them now. My mind couldn’t grasp them now. It’s a mistake to put it off until sickness comes along.”
Reader, again we say, GO YOU MUST. WHITHER DO YOU GO?
There may be no precursory sickness, no further warning. Delay not, we beseech you. By delaying, you lose heavily in this life, inestimably in the future.
God grant that there may be found in you those two estimable things which we found in B. Firstly― that honesty which admits the condition in which you are as an unsaved sinner. Secondly―that desire which that admission should assuredly bring. Then we have but one word for you, as for B., “You must believe the Word of God;” and it says, “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.” S.