On the frontier : $b or, Scenes in the WestPearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
General
On the frontier : $b or, Scenes in the West
Pearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Juvenile fiction; Sunday school literature
"Yes; one day, a few weeks before, I fell to thinking over my past
life,—I know not what made me,—and I saw it to be all wrong. Then I
resolved to do better. But what a task I found it to overcome evil
habits formed through so many years; and then my sins, my sins, they
were a load crushing me to despair. One thing, however, I determined
on, and that was to attend preaching somewhere. But, delaying to get
suitable clothing, I was meanwhile laid up with this sickness. And
now," he continued, "what I wish more than any thing else is to be rid
of sin and serve God. But how can this be? How can I hope he will have
mercy on me, when all the strength of my days has been given to self
and sin? What shall I do? what shall I do? It's all dark to me."
Assuring him that salvation was free and ample, that the blessed
Saviour invited all who felt their need of it to partake without money
and without price, he could not credit the good news, and exclaimed,
with moving earnestness,—
"Read it to me from 'the Book.' I want to hear it for myself, that I
may know there is no mistake about it!"
Drawing a Bible from my pocket, and lifting up a prayer for guidance,
for I knew not where to turn, I opened at this passage: "Jesus stood
and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink."
A divine radiance seemed to rest on the Lord's invitation, and as I was
explaining it, he suddenly exclaimed,—
"'I see it!'" He had fallen back on the pillow, a smile surpassingly
beautiful irradiating his before distorted features. Those wondrous
words of Christ, in which divine majesty blends with perfect human
sympathy, through the Spirit's power, had inspired trust. The cloud,
the darkness, the storm passed from his soul, and, like a tired infant
nestling in his mother's arms, so he found rest in the love of his
Saviour.
How blessed to kneel in prayer after such a change! Prayer was turned
to praise, and that lowly cot became as the gate of heaven. Nor did
his peace abate, for when I called again, three days afterwards, and
inquired how he felt,—
"Oh!" said he, with beaming face, "it's so delightful; 'it is peace in
the morning, and peace at night.' My mind is so at rest," he continued,
"that even my bodily pains, at times, seem all to have left me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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