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Home » Publications » Free Presbyterian Magazine » 1978 » June 1978 » Nothing to Pay (Continued from page 129)

Nothing to Pay (Continued from page 129)

In about three weeks from this time I saw Reid again; but how can words describe the change that had taken place in him? On my entering, he looked at me with solemn emotion, and said, “I have seen the Lord — my sins are pardoned — my burden is gone.” I stood amazed, as though I had never believed the extent of all I had ever said to him. He then entered into the detail of the Lord’s gracious discovery of Himself to his soul, and I soon found our office was changed; he was now the teacher — I was the learner. The Lord had filled his heart with love, and melted every doctrine into richunctuous experience, while tears of self-loathing fell on a free pardon.

At about an interval of ten days I saw Reid again. It was a solemn season. He said, “You never told me of half the bliss and joy I feel. Did you ever feel as I do? Did any one out of heaven ever enjoy a precious Christ as I do? Was ever a rebel sinner favoured as I am? I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep. I am as afraid of my love as if it was a bird that a wink would drive away. I am filled with the Spirit — I am drunk with this new wine. My poor wife thinks me mad — and well she may. I am beside myself with joy upon times. Nothing troubles me now. There’s the infant a-dying; trouble all around me; but I don’t give it a thought. Do you know (he continued), my wife’s sister sent me some wine, but I won’t taste a drop of it, lest they should say ’twas their wine made me happy. ‘Tis up there on the shelf, and there it may stay for me. Oh, that everlasting love of God — that precious blood of the Lamb! That’s the wine that cheers my heart.”

In this frame he continued for weeks and up half his nights reading, praying, and praising God. One day he said to me, “My poor wife is as dead as the table. She is a good wife and mother, but she knows not the Lord.” “Do you talk to her about her soul?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied; “but I see myself over again in her, for she hates God’s truth as I did; and half the Christians that come in to see me don’t understand me; and when I tell them what God has done for me, and how I fought against Him, they look at me as if I was mad.” After some weeks I perceived his joys gradually abated; and in answer to my inquiries how he was, he used to answer, “Very changeable, but God is just the same.”

About six months from my first visit, Reid revived wonderfully — was able to get to a place of worship — conduct family prayer morning and evening, and work a little in his garden. An opportunity offering of a more comfortable cottage for his family, he removed into it about this time. “Well, Reid,” said I, on entering his new habitation, “I am truly glad to see you in so nice a little place. This is a great change for the better.” He looked up from under his shaggy eyebrows, and said, “Yes, ’tis well enough.” The tone of voice was not one of satisfaction, and a momentary thought of vexation gleamed across my mind at his want of gratitude. “Well,” I said, rather reproachfully, “I did think you would have been pleased to get into such a nice place as this.” He looked full at me for a minute, and then said, “This cot will never be to me what the other was: that was a heavenly house — a glorious house. There Jesus found me in my sins; there He pardoned me; there He often talked with me. No other house will ever be to me what that house was.” His voice faltered as he spoke, and he dashed away a tear that dimmed his eye. I talked a little of the preciousness of an Immanuel — God with us — a Jesus ever the same. “Yes,” said he; “God can do much for me here, but what I felt there can’t be done twice.”

Reid’s health began again to give way, and his sufferings became most acute. Once I visited him under a violent attack of pain. I inquired how it was within. “Why,” he said, “I have no more religion in me than the fender these last two days — my religion is all gone.” “Well,” I answered, “you are to die with nothing to pay; and to the last sand you must learn you have nothing but Christ to glory in.” “Yes,” he rejoined, “that’s true; I have nothing to pay. I am a poor ruined sinner today in myself; all I have is from Jesus. But I have been thinking all this morning ’tis no cheat what I have felt; for now I am left in my feelings, if I was left of God too, Satan would soon overrun my soul, and be too mighty for a fleshly religion.” “Well,” said I, “if your religion is gone as to happy experience, Jesus says, ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee’ — ‘I am with you always, even to the end’.” This seemed to cheer him.

A few days after this interview I sent to know how he was. He said to the messenger, with great solemnity, “When a man comes to die with his sins all pardoned, ’tis no matter then that he can neither read, nor think, nor talk. Jesus has done all, and left me nothing to do.” In a few days I saw him again. His agonies were indescribable. He said, “Those two dark days I wanted my wife to kill me, and put me out of my misery; but I am willing to wait the Lord’s time now.” “How do you feel in your mind?” I asked. “Happy as a child,” was his emphatic whisper, and a little smile illumined his rugged countenance as he spoke. The next day I called, Reid was asleep, and the wife out. The eldest child, a girl about twelve years old, was sitting sewing in the kitchen. From her I learnt her father had passed an awful night of pain. They had all sat up with him. I asked her, “Did he talk at all?” “No,” she replied, simply; “he seldom says anything now but, ‘I am happy’.” Once, and but once more, I saw Reid. When I entered he smiled faintly, and raising himself up in his bed hastily, thrust out his bony hand, and grasped mine. “I have been lying on the brink of the grave since I saw you last,” he said; “but I don’t dread it. I long to roll in and be at rest; then I shall be with the Lord. Ah,” he continued, with affectionate earnestness, while tears of love glistened in his eyes, “I shall see Him for ever who was revealed to me in that house I was so loath to leave. No wonder I loved every stone of it; but I shall soon be above — I shall soon see Him as He is. Oh, what grace it was that enlightened my eyes!” Thus he continued for some time, uttering many precious truths, that refreshed my heart to hear. The Sabbath evening after this he departed. During the day, as the neighbours dropped in, he shook hands with each and all, and said, deliberately and cheerfully, “Good bye; I am going to heaven:” and to his wife many times he said, “Don’t trouble; I am going to Jesus.” An hour before his death he said to her in a whisper, “Take care of yourself and our dear children. You have been a good wife. God bless you!” These were the last words audible.

I doubt not readers will be found who may denounce my share in these conversations as unguarded, injudicious, and dangerous. Let results speak, and let God’s people take encouragement therefrom to tell all they know, whether men will hear or forbear, and leave the God who gave the truth to guard it.

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