On a cold day in the middle of winter, a carriage drove up to a minister’s house and he was summoned to attend the death-bed of a young man, who, in the midst of life and health had been just struck down by a violent kick from a horse, and was not expected to live more than a few hours. The blow had broken his skull bone, and cut out a piece as large as the palm of his hand, presenting a ghastly and horrible sight.
When the minister arrived, he found him just recovering his senses. The physician came soon after, and decided that there was no hope of saving his life. The minister, after saying a few words, and engaging in prayer, proposed to retire for a short time, to give the young man a little rest. “No, no,” he exclaimed, “do not leave me for a moment. I have but a short time to live, and I dare not die as I am. O what shall I do? Tell me quickly before the light of reason forsakes me.”
“James,” said the minister, “there is but one way in which a sinner can be saved, and that is, by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ;—whether an hour only, or years be allowed you, the only way for you to secure salvation is, by casting yourself unreservedly into the Saviour’s hand. Only his blood can save you; and you are welcome now, this moment. All things are ready—come now.”
The young man, with a look of anguish, replied, “Do you remember, sir, when I was putting up some shelves in your study, eight months ago, that you asked me to stop, while you talked with me about religion, and prayed for me? It was then that I felt that I was a sinner, and after going home, I endeavored to pray for myself, and determined that I would seek religion. Two or three days, these feelings continued; when, unhappily for me, I took up a book, which I had commenced reading before our conversation, and though conscience remonstrated, I went on and finished it. My feelings were much enlisted in the story, but when I got through I had no disposition to pray; and my anxiety about religion was gone. I resumed novel-reading, of which I had been very fond, and compromised with my conscience, by resolving that at the end of one year I would throw all such books aside, and seek the salvation of my soul. Only two thirds of that year are gone, and here I am dying! Fool, fool that I was, to sell my soul for a novel—to prefer the excitement of an idle tale to the joys of religion.”
The minister begged him, whatever had been his past folly and guilt, to look to Christ for the forgiveness of all. But while he was speaking, the young man’s reason began to fail. In a short time he was delirious. “Fool, fool!” he would exclaim, at intervals, and this was all he said. In this state of mind, death overtook him, four months before the period arrived, to which he had put off attention to the concerns of his soul—a sad warning to those who defer this first and great concern!
Sudden Death of a Christian.
William G. was a young man in vigorous health and of ardent temperament, with great energy of character. His office was that of a brakeman upon the Railroad. A long line of freight cars had been delayed a few minutes behind the time, and must hasten to reach the turnout in season for the passenger train, which was expected to pass in a few moments. Two cars were to be detached; which, by a dexterous movement, could be done without entirely stopping the train. The moment the engine is slackened, the cars behind will gain a little upon those in front, when the connecting pin can be removed, and the hinder cars detached. This the young man had often done before, and he sprang forward with alacrity to perform it now. But, in the path lay a pebble, so small as to escape notice, and yet large enough, as he stepped rapidly backwards, to throw him prostrate on the track, while the heavy-laden cars passed on over his body. It was the work of an instant, but it was done. There lay, mangled and writhing, the young man, who, not one moment before, was buoyant, healthful, full of enterprise and hope. There was no hope of his life. With one arm extended, the only unbroken limb in his body, he speaks: “I must die—I know it—I must die, but thank God I am ready to die. Yes, I am willing to die, if it is God’s will. And yet, I should like to live. My poor mother—who will take care of her? My poor sisters—and oh, my poor dear Mary! Send for them—send for them. Send now. I must see them once more. I have much to say to them. Oh, my God, thy will be done!” They came, and there was such a burst of grief as is seldom witnessed. Yet, amid all this, he was calm. Not a groan, not a murmur had escaped him through the long hours of bodily suffering which he had endured, and not a murmur nor a groan did he suffer now, when the heart-strings were broken. He spoke calmly and clearly to them all, gave them counsel, bade each a tender farewell; then closed his eyes, and sunk into the sleep of death. What would this scene have been without the Christian hope? This young man had anchored his hope firm upon the Rock of Ages. It had supported him in the busy scenes of life. It now sustained him in the sudden hour of trial, when the pains of death seized upon him without warning. “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!”
Transcriber’s Note:
Variations in chapter and section heads between the Contents and the body of the text have been retained as they appear in the original publication.