M. R. BROWNLOW NORTH, the well-known evangelist, was at one time—indeed, all through his early life—a very marked specimen of the thoughtless and dissipated aristocratic worldling. He was for many years supposed to be the heir to a noble title, but a late and unexpected marriage came between him and his hopes. When he was no longer a young man, he and a friend were staying at a shooting-box in Scotland. Their day’s sport was usually followed by an evening’s debauch; and in one of these his friend dropped down dead. The terrible event was God’s message to the heart of this hardened profligate. The awful thought laid hold of him: “If I had been called away, instead of my poor friend, I should have been damned.”
This led him to think seriously about his soul, and, after passing through many agonising experiences, he was brought into the full light of the Gospel. No sooner did he feel himself to be a changed man than he began to set about trying to win others to realise the same blessedness. In process of time he became one of the most noted preachers of that period.
It happened on one occasion that he was to preach in Inverness. Just as he entered the building, a note was put into his hands, the contents of which were somewhat to this effect:—”Brownlow North, you miserable hypocrite! Do you remember what took place at — on such a date, and the part you bore in it; also at — on such a date, and again at — on such a date, and the part that you took on each of these occasions?” Pretty full details of what did happen were given, and then the letter concluded: “Now, you wretched hypocrite, you know that every word in this letter is true; will you, after reading it, dare to go into that pulpit and rant and rave, and preach what you call the Gospel?”
Poor Mr. North felt the force of the letter keenly, but he put it into his pocket, and when the time came, he read the familiar words: “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acception, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.” He paused, and then, with deepest feeling, added: “Of whom I am chief.” “My friends,” said he, “when I entered this building to-night, a letter was put into my hands. I do not know who the writer may be, but he is evidently one who knows a great deal about my career in the past. This letter refers to three distinct occasions, on which it charges me with participating in scenes of riot, and excess, and wantonness. I will not pollute your ears by referring to the contents of that letter further than to say as much as this. And the writer concludes his most painful communication by saying, ‘Now, you wretched hypocrite, you know that all this is true; will you, after reading this letter, dare to go into that pulpit and rant and rave, and preach what you call the Gospel?’ Dear friends, there are three things that I have to say about this letter: First, it is all true. Would to God that I could deny the charges it makes! Would to God that I could undo the past, but that is beyond the power of even God Himself. God knows it is true, and I confess with sorrow and shame that it is true. And the second thing I have to say is, that it’s all forgiven; God knows it is forgiven, and I know that it is forgiven. And the third thing I have to say is that, if God, for Jesus Christ’s sake, can forgive the sin of such a sinner as Brownlow North, there is not a sinner in Scotland, there is not a sinner in this wide world, too great for God to forgive him all his sins.” There were few dry eyes among those present as he uttered these words with the most intense feeling.
Reader, your sins may or may not be as glaring as Brownlow North’s, but they can be forgiven freely by the same pardoning God, if you but come to Him in true repentance. Should you die unforgiven, there remaineth nothing for you but the blackness of darkness for ever. Now, His mercy would fain woo you for Himself. Be wise in time.
ANON.
*An anonymous contributor has sent us this article for insertion.—Ed.