AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF A BARRISTER.
I was engaged in my study one morning, when a client of mine, a Mr. B——, was introduced. He was in a state of great excitement, having heard that the Lord Chancellor was to pronounce judgment on his case that day.
"Are you sure," he inquired, "that nothing is left undone? If judgment is given against me, I am a ruined man. All my hopes are centred in its results. On the issue hang the prospects of my darling wife and children. Oh, tell me, can anything further be done to, if possible, ensure success?"
I endeavoured to calm him by saying that we were fully prepared, and that counsel's opinion was in his favour. This assurance having appeased him a little, he left me, appointing to meet again in an hour at the court. The Chancellor had just taken his seat as I entered, and was proceeding to give judgment in my client's case.
Casting my eyes around, I observed poor Mr. B—— seated on a bench, immediately opposite his lordship. He did not recognize me, for his entire attention was riveted on the oracle from whence was to proceed the eagerly wished for, but dreaded decision. To look upon that man was painful indeed; and although many years of professional experience had familiarized me to such scenes, yet I could not behold him without emotion, and trembled to think of the awful effect an adverse decision would have on a mind so sensitive as his, and wrought to the highest degree of painful suspense. My fears were but too soon realized. After an elaborate and carefully considered review of the case, a final decree was awarded against my client. Never shall I forget the agony of despair depicted on his countenance at that moment as, rushing from the court, he hissed into my ear the fearful words, "Oh, I am undone!"
It was a damp November day on which the circumstance above narrated occurred. Wending my way homewards through Chancery Lane, the words of my unfortunate client recurred to me. "Will my case be called on to-day?" thought I; "and is nothing left undone to ensure me a favourable decree at the hands of that eternal Judge before whom I must stand, sooner or later?"
Dear reader, you and I have both a case of vital importance, the judgment of which will be eternal happiness or eternal misery. If we have no Friend at court, no skilful Advocate to plead, anything of our own—any pleadings based upon our own works or performances—will most assuredly fail. A form without the power will not stand the test of that tremendous, awful day. All false coverings will then be stripped off. Naked, ruined, and undone for ever must we be unless found clothed with the righteousness of Jesus Christ, the God-Man. The lines of one of our poets have aptly described the case—
"A debtor to Jehovah's law,
My soul by nature stood,
And Justice was about to draw
His sword to shed my blood.
"'Stand forth! Stand forth!' he sternly cried,
'And pay me what you owe!'
"'Tis done,' said Jesus, 'for I died;
Loose him, and let him go!'"
What a solemn consideration it is that I who write and you who read will stand in one case or the other—"Loose him, and let him go!" or, "Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer darkness!" I ask myself—and may I ask you—Does it cause you any searchings of heart, any anxious thoughts, any tossings to and fro upon your bed? "How stands the case, my soul, with thee?" Are matters right between God and thy soul? Have I any reason to hope that I shall be acquitted? Or are you, Gallio-like, caring for none of these things, "dancing the hellward road apace"? This we are sure of—that the judgment of God will be according to truth, and those who die in their sins, destitute of an interest and hope in Christ, will have to confess that the Judge of all the earth has done right. Your debts are great—too great for you ever to pay. Are you trying to wipe off part of the score, endeavouring to do your best, and trusting Jesus Christ to make up the rest? Hopeless case, for—
"Could thy zeal no respite know,
Could thy tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Christ must save, and Christ alone."
But if, from a sense of your true state and condition, your entirely bankrupt state, with no hope or help in yourself, you have fallen down at Jesus' feet, crying, "Lord, save, or I perish!" you are on safe ground. Thy Surety paid for thee; and thou shalt know it in His own time, to the joy of thy heart.
A Barrister.