The Prodigal’s Return
IT was summer time. The sun shone 1 brilliantly day after day upon the bell-shaped tents, occupied by the militia, who were up for their yearly training on the beautiful downs of M―. A very pretty sight it was to look upon; yet one felt sadly that among that vast number of men were many who knew not the Saviour, and the hearts of a few noble workers for the Master yearned to win some precious souls to Him. Permission having been granted them by the commanding officer to use the temperance tent, meetings were, at once commenced, which were greatly blessed to the salvation of souls. One evening, when the tent was crowded with eager listeners, the hymn was sung―
“In the land of strangers,
Whither thou art gone,
Hear a far voice calling,
‘My son! My son!”
An address on the fifteenth chapter of Luke followed, in which was tenderly depicted the Father waiting with outstretched arms, ready to welcome the prodigal home.
The earnestness of the speaker touched some hearts, and amongst others that of Robert W. He could hold out no longer, and the pent-up tears burst forth, showing very plainly that a tender chord had been touched. One of the Christians present went and spoke to him about his soul. Robert said, “I have not only wandered from God, but have been a wanderer from my earthly home for many years. My father and mother know nothing of my whereabouts, and tonight I feel miserable.”
The glorious truth was then put before him that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, and he was assured that none need perish, for Christ had died.
The evening gun fired, and the workers left the camp, feeling glad that the words spoken had taken root in at least one heart. The work begun in Robert’s soul was continued, and finally resulted in a blessed deliverance. The prodigal found a loving welcome home from his heavenly Father, as had been assured to him, and of this he testified the next evening to those who had been the means of leading him to the Saviour. He was now able to sing with joy―
“The wanderer no more will roam,
The lost one to the fold has come,
The prodigal is welcomed home,
O Lamb of God in Thee.”
During the remainder of the camping season, Robert proved by his life that he had experienced a change of heart. Two days before leaving he said to the writer, “Thank God I am now on the road for heaven, and as soon as 1 leave here I am going to my parents.” What joy was created in that earthly home, as well as the great joy of the angels in heaven over the prodigal returning!
Such is the simple story of one, who proved that God was able to save to the uttermost all who come unto Him by faith. Reader, are you a prodigal? Are you still wandering away from the Father in sin and misery? Jesus waits to welcome you. Oh! come home! come home! J. H.
Extracts From Letters Written on the Dying Couch.
“‘THANKS for all you tell me. I never tire of any details,” Mrs. G. wrote, replying to one who feared she was wearying her. “The more I can be occupied outside myself the better; and although I cannot write about them, I deeply sympathize, and in my hours of wakefulness it comforts me to pour out all before the Lord. I can no longer dress myself; but come down every day for a few hours. I sometimes lie and think of the city wherein there is no night, in all the details of its attractive loveliness. Sometimes I remind the Lord that He promised to make all my bed in my sickness, and has told me that the everlasting arms are beneath me, and that He Himself is my refuge. Then faith instantly takes up the strain, and tells Him that not one word has failed or shall fail to the end; and of course praise flows forth, and the dark, wearisome night is almost the portal of the Father’s house.
“On Sunday Miss— came to see me; I spoke of the rest of heaven. She thought it happier to contemplate the variety of work one might expect to find there, but the music and the song seemed uppermost in her mind.
‘Don’t you anticipate it?’ she said. ‘It will be passing sweet,’ I replied, but does not so much occupy my thoughts.’ What is your thought, then?’ she said. ‘Going straight to the feet of Jesus,’ I replied, and sitting down there to gaze upon Him forever.’ Ah, yes! they shall see His face.”
Again to the same she writes: “The Lord’s love is wonderful, so I can now say my light affliction, which endureth but a moment! I want you to bless and praise with me. He makes all my bed in my sickness, and fills me with joy unspeakable and full of glory.”
Towards the end of the month she wrote to her two sisters conjointly, seemingly her farewell letter, which was received in England.
“My own darling sisters—I must try once more while in the body, to speak a few words to you. My sufferings and weakness increase now very sensibly day by day. It was hard work yesterday when I was removed to my couch, and today it cannot be attempted. The least nourishment I take produces pain which lasts till I am obliged to take something else―yet I only take liquids―and the wasting nature of the disease increases.
“Well, dear ones, it will soon be all past. There is no more pain in the home―the blessed home, to which I am fast going. The Lord has fixed the time, and I would not hasten His time, no, not an hour. His precious, blessed loving will be done. Amen and Amen.
“My dearest E. will, perhaps, remember how months ago I spoke of that passage, ‘the things which are not seen.’ Well, it seems to me the Lord has been teaching me the meaning of it, and thus blessedly making room for Himself and His own joy. It is wonderful the joy He gives, ‘unspeakable and full of glory,’ so that the indescribable weakness, the poor failing limbs no longer able to bear the emaciated body, make me almost shout with delight as I see how the earthly house is being dissolved. It is all Himself now―there seems no room left for self―hence the deep, deep joy; I must speak of Him, I must tell of His love―His sovereign love―must speak of His faithful word. Yet I cannot speak of lying on the bosom of Jesus as some saints can. Sometimes I find myself nestling there, but down I slip instantly to His dear feet, and lie there to worship and adore. Is not this being in spirit already in the glory? You see I tell out my feelings without reserve because I am so near eternity.
“I fear you will be getting anxious about me, yet I have not felt equal to writing all this time. I am unable to swallow even a soaked crumb of biscuit or bread, yet often there is the longing and intense craving for food.”
After a few more details she continues, “Well, darling, this is one phase of my existence—I know you wish to have such details. This is the daily dying side, the other side is feeding on the Bread of Life, learning the treasure I have in the blessed Son of God. I only live as occupied with Him, all other ties seem to hold but loosely. My soul follows hard after Him, His right hand upholds me. Every evening when I have taken my cup of tea, and daylight has faded away, I nestle down on my pillows, and remain alone with Him who is the chiefest among ten thousand and the altogether lovely. Then, indeed, I live! I am occupied with Him, engrossed, ravished, satisfied! His precious word, His smile, Himself, makes my heaven, and I only await His call, ‘Come up hither,’ and my spirit with one bound shall be ‘absent from the body, present with the Lord.’ Unless, indeed, He shall come Himself to bear us all away, while yet this poor frail body holds on.”
Gleams of New Testament Light From the Old Testament.