"I recollect on one occasion, when several of us were spending a Sabbath evening in an hotel, after I had delivered a speech at some length in favour of Deism, and against Christianity, I was so much applauded, that they clapped me, and said, 'Well, Lewellin, if you ever turn, there must be something in it.' After I did turn, or rather after I was turned, the majority reproached me as a hypocritical fanatic; but one came and congratulated me on having escaped the destructive snare in which he was entangled; but added, 'My doom is irrevocably fixed, and it would be only an aggravation of my misery to indulge a hope of salvation.' Poor fellow! he was hurried on, even against the strong convictions of his judgment, and the reproaches of his conscience, through almost every scene of dissipation, till at length the strong arm of death stopped his progress. As soon as I heard of his illness, I went to see him. I never shall forget the interview. It brought to my recollection my own state of misery, when the terrors of the eternal world, like the vivid lightning, were playing around my distracted spirit. On entering his room, he endeavoured to avoid seeing me, by concealing his face under the bed-clothes. I approached his bedside, and spoke, but he was dumb with silence. I endeavoured to rouse him by the kindest expressions of friendship, and at length he uncovered his horror-struck countenance, and said (as nearly as I can remember), 'I don't doubt your kindness; it is indelibly impressed on my callous heart. But why come to torment me? The damned cannot be saved!' 'But,' I added, 'the chief of sinners may.' 'Not after their doom is fixed. I have passed the line which divides the saved from the lost; and I cannot retrace my steps.' 'But,——' 'But, Sir,' interrupting me, 'excuse my abruptness; I feel as though I were now riding on the elements of woe; the voice of peace I cannot hear. My soul is in a whirlwind of despair! The storm will ne'er subside! The clouds of the Divine displeasure are highly charged; they are gathering blackness! and soon—yes, I feel death now creeping up to strike my heart!—soon, very soon I shall be cast into outer darkness!' 'But,——' 'But spare me!' 'But, do listen—I may be the means of distilling consolation; for I have suffered all you now suffer, and yet have obtained mercy.' 'Yes, you have, and I am glad of it for your sake; but that feeling aggravates my agony. Distil consolation! Yes, you may; but every avenue of my soul is filled up with anguish; it cannot enter. Tell me not of a Saviour, for I have slighted him! Tell me not of his compassion, for I have made it a subject of ridicule! Tell me not of heaven, for I shall soon see it, but at an immeasurable distance! Death is come, my heartstrings are breaking! I lie down in misery, to rise——' He could add no more. I left him in the agonies of despair, and soon after he died."
"How awful!" exclaimed Mrs. Stevens; "was it not too much for your feelings?"
"Too much!" replied Lewellin, deeply affected, "I scarcely knew how to remain, or how to move; and, had it not been for the nurse, who entered the room just at this crisis, I think that I should have sunk. It has left a horrifying impression on my mind, which reflection increases; for he was the only son of a pious father, who was ignorant of his character till he came up from the country to attend his funeral. The good man waited on me before the rites of sepulture were performed; and though I suppressed the strong descriptive language of his son, yet it was not in my power to alleviate his fears. He wept aloud. He paced backwards and forwards in my room, like a man bereft of his senses. 'Had I lost my property, I had merely lost what will melt in the general burning; but I have lost my child, who will never see——. Woe is me!' I went to see the good man a few months ago, but his countenance has never since worn a smile—his food is the wormwood, and his drink the gall."
"What anguish," said Mr. Stevens, "does an irreligious child often inflict in a parent's breast! I have often grieved because I have not had a family, but I am sure that I shall never grieve again."
I now observed: God often employs the religious education of children as the means of their conversion; but when they leave their father's house, if they are not placed in a pious family, they often turn out the most depraved. Hence we derive an argument for our encouragement, to train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; and also a beacon to warn us of the danger to which we expose them, when we introduce them into situations where they are under no religious control. This good man demands our pity; but, perhaps, if we knew the whole history of his conduct to his child, we should be disposed to blame him. And what a warning is this fact to the youth who has received a religious training. He may indulge himself in a course of sin, but conscience will rebuke him; he may suppose that his father is ignorant of his conduct, but he cannot conceal himself from the eye of God; and he may presume on a future day for repentance, but that day may be a day of darkness, of lamentation, and of woe.
"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment."
THE RECTOR OF BROADHURST.
