Dear wife, more would I say, but life ebbs out apace. Bright angels stand around the gory turf on which I lie, ready to escort me to the arms of Jesus. Bending saints reveal my shining crown, and beckon me away. Yea, methinks my Jesus bids me come. Adieu, adieu!
John Randon.
A HOPEFUL CASE.
Being called to preach the Word in a parish where there is no resident minister, it frequently falls to my lot to visit those who are afflicted.
A singular instance, both of ignorance and mercy, appeared in the character of a person almost unknown to me till the following circumstance took place.
A poor woman, about the middle of August last, was taken very ill with pleurisy, and was much alarmed. This being the Sabbath evening, she sent for one of the people who usually attend my preaching to come and read with her. He accordingly went, and she was much pleased with what he read. Before he left her, she solicited him to ask me to come and see her. Being out preaching, upon my return home I met this person, who told me the request of the poor woman. I immediately went, and found her in a helpless, miserable state, both as to body and soul. Her husband being gone to harvest, she was left without money to procure any of the comforts of life. The marks of poverty appeared in every part of the habitation, and the poor creature laid stretched out upon a bed of sorrow, being in a languishing state through the violence of the fever.
After condoling with her for a few minutes upon her external situation, I began to converse with her pretty freely upon the more important affairs belonging to her never-dying soul. The first topic of conversation was upon man as a sinful creature, and the enmity of the heart in the unconverted. I endeavoured to show that, although some might be a little more refined as to gross acts of immorality, yet by nature we "are all the children of wrath even as others." I next spoke of salvation by Jesus Christ, that it was all of grace.
The woman listened to every word I uttered. The tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and at last she said, "I know nothing of the Man of whom you have been speaking," immediately adding, "I was never brought up in the way of religion—never taught to know a letter of a book, nor yet attend any place of worship." After I had engaged in prayer with her, I left her.
The next day I made her another visit, and found the fever increased, the cough very troublesome, and the pain in her side very acute. I began to discourse upon the suitableness, the ability, and willingness of Jesus to save perishing sinners, and then she put this question—"And do you think, sir, He will save such a wretch as I am?" I observed, "The promise runs thus, 'Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out,'" &c.