Part 2 (1/2)
How different was the case of that Doctor who also had been an unbeliever as well as a drunkard! Highly educated, skilful, and gifted above most in his profession, he was taken into consultation for specially dangerous cases, whenever they could find him tolerably sober.
After one of his excessive ”bouts” he had a dreadful attack of _delirium tremens_. At one time wife and watchers had a fierce struggle to dash from his lips a draught of prussic acid; at another, they detected the silver-hafted lancet concealed in the band of his s.h.i.+rt, as he lay down, to bleed himself to death. His aunt came and pleaded with me to visit him. My heart bled for his poor young wife and two beautiful little children. Visiting him twice daily, and sometimes even more frequently, I found the way somehow into his heart, and he would do almost anything for me and longed for my visits. When again the fit of self-destruction seized him, they sent for me; he held out his hand eagerly, and grasping mine said, ”Put all these people out of the room, remain you with me; I will be quiet, I will do everything you ask!”
I got them all to leave, but whispered to one in pa.s.sing to ”keep near the door.”
Alone I sat beside him, my hand in his, and kept up a quiet conversation for several hours. After we had talked of everything that I could think of, and it was now far into the morning, I said, ”If you had a Bible here, we might read a chapter, verse about.”
He said dreamily, ”There was once a Bible above yon press; if you can get up to it, you might find it there yet.”
Getting it, dusting it, and laying it on a small table which I drew near to the sofa on which we sat, we read there and then a chapter together.
After this I said; ”Now, shall we pray?”
He replied heartily, ”Yes.”
I having removed the little table, we kneeled down together at the sofa; and after a solemn pause I whispered, ”You pray first.”
He replied, ”I curse, I cannot pray; would you have me curse G.o.d to His face?”
I answered, ”You promised to do all that I asked; you must pray, or try to pray, and let me hear that you cannot.”
He said, ”I cannot curse G.o.d on my knees; let me stand, and I will curse Him; I cannot pray.”
I gently held him on his knees, saying, ”Just try to pray, and let me hear you cannot.”
Instantly he cried out, ”O Lord, Thou knowest I cannot pray,” and was going to say something dreadful as he strove to rise up. But I took up gently the words he had uttered as if they had been my own and continued the prayer, pleading for him and his dear ones as we knelt there together, till he showed that he was completely subdued and lying low at the feet of G.o.d. On rising from our knees he was manifestly greatly impressed, and I said, ”Now, as I must be at College by daybreak and must return to my lodging for my books and an hour's rest, will do you one thing more for me before I go?”
”Yes,” was his reply.
”Then,” said I, ”it is long since you had a refres.h.i.+ng sleep: now, will you lie down, and I will sit by you till you fall asleep?”
He lay down, and was soon fast asleep. After commending him to the care and blessing of the Lord, I quietly slipped out, and his wife returned to watch by his side. When I came back later in the day, after my Cla.s.ses were over, he, on hearing my foot and voice, came to meet me, and clasping me in his arms, cried, ”Thank G.o.d, I can pray now! I rose this morning refreshed from sleep, and prayed with my wife and children for the first time in my life; and now I shall do so every day, and serve G.o.d while I live, who hath dealt in so great mercy with me!”
After delightful conversation, he promised to go with me to Dr.
Symington's church on Sabbath Day; there he took sittings beside me; at next half-yearly Communion he and his wife were received into members.h.i.+p, and their children were baptized; and from that day till his death he led a devoted and most useful Christian life. He now sleeps in Jesus; and I do believe I shall meet him in Glory as a trophy of redeeming grace and love!
In my Mission district I was the witness of many joyful departures to be with Jesus,--I do not like to name them ”deaths” at all. They left us rejoicing in the bright a.s.surance that nothing present or to come ”could ever separate them or us from the love of G.o.d which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Many examples might be given; but I can find room for only one. John Sim, a dear little boy, was carried away by consumption. His child-heart seemed to be filled with joy about seeing Jesus. His simple prattle, mingled with deep questionings, arrested not only his young companions, but pierced the hearts of some careless sinners who heard him, and greatly refreshed the faith of G.o.d's dear people. It was the very pathos of song incarnated to hear the weak quaver of his dying voice sing out--
”I lay my sins on Jesus, The spotless Lamb of G.o.d.”
Shortly before his decease he said to his parents, ”I am going soon to be with Jesus; but I sometimes fear that I may not see you there.”
”Why so, my child?” said his weeping mother.
”Because,” he answered, ”if you were set upon going to Heaven and seeing Jesus there, you would pray about it, and sing about it; you would talk about Jesus to others, and tell them of that happy meeting with Him in Glory. All this my dear Sabbath School teacher taught me, and she will meet me there. Now why did not you, my father and mother, tell me all these things about Jesus, if you are going to meet Him too?” Their tears fell fast over their dying child; and he little knew, in his unthinking eighth year, what a message from G.o.d had pierced their souls through his innocent words.
One day an aunt from the country visited his mother, and their talk had run in channels for which the child no longer felt any interest. On my sitting down beside him, he said, ”Sit you down and talk with me about Jesus; I am tired hearing so much talk about everything else but Jesus; I am going soon to be with Him. Oh, do tell me everything you know or have ever heard about Jesus, the spotless Lamb of G.o.d!”
At last the child literally longed to be away, not for rest, or freedom from pain--for of that he had very little--but, as he himself always put it, ”to see Jesus.” And, after all, that was the wisdom of the heart, however he learned it. Eternal life, here or hereafter, is just the vision of Jesus.
CHAPTER IX.
A FOREIGN MISSIONARY.