OF DISAPPOINTED HOPE.

31

of my career. A young man who had been instructed in a Sabbath-school as to the elements of religion, but had never made any pretension to piety, was stricken with an alarming disease. His concern about his soul was immediate and overwhelming. "What must I do to be saved?" seemed the one question which absorbed all his thoughts. Those around him did not fail to expound the reply of Paul and Silas-"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ." He listened most intently; hope sprang up in his soul, and passages of scripture which he had learned at school, but which had till then escaped his memory, came pouring into his mind with a richness, propriety, and consecutiveness truly wonderful. Disease now gained upon him, and all hope of recovery fled. The surgeon plainly told him that nothing more could be done, and that a few hours would terminate his life. He received the announcement with perfect composure, and said that he had no wish to live, his only desire was to depart and be with Christ. Inexperienced as I then was, had he died, I should not have entertained a doubt of his safety. But the surgeon was mistaken to the surprise of every one, his recovery was soon completed.

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A MELANCHOLY INSTANCE, &c.

He went to the house of God the first Sabbath he was able to walk, and returned thanks for his restoration. For the next few Sabbaths following he was there afterwards I missed him. For some time I was unable to learn what had become of him; at last I ascertained that an act of gross immorality had rendered it expedient for him to leave the neighbourhood.

After the lapse of twenty years, I very unexpectedly met with him once again. During the interval he had become a hardened sot. At the time of this interview, however, he was perfectly sober, but he appeared to have forgotten me. I reminded him of his vows in affliction. He then mentioned my name. I endeavoured to recall his former impressions, but the attempt was hopeless; his conscience was seared, as with a hot iron: all I could get him to say of the affliction which once seemed so hopeful, was, "I have no wish to remember it."

CHAPTER II.

NEVER can it be too deeply impressed on the minds of all who are anxious to bring sinners to Christ, that health is the season of benefit, as well as of usefulness. Of the man who amidst the excitements of life becomes awakened to an apprehension of his guilt and danger, we may entertain some reasonable hope; but when cares for eternity come across the mind only when it has nothing else to engage it, the result is at best but doubtful. The sick demand our kindness, our sympathy, and our prayers; but if we wish to save men's souls, our chief attention must be directed to those who need no other physician.

Through inattention to this point, some of the best energies of the church have been thrown away. Persons in all diseases, and in all stages of disease, have been eagerly sought out with the benevolent intention of showing them the way to heaven; while the healthful inmates of the same dwelling have been left to

34

VISITATION OF THE SICK.

pursue their own path to hell without one word of entreaty or warning.

In many instances the visitation of the sick is perfectly useless. It is almost always so in

fevers and diseases connected with delirium ; and in cases where delirium is not apparent, there is often mental imbecility. I have attended persons in malignant fevers, who seemed perfectly conscious at the time, and exceedingly thankful for my visits, but who, on recovery, had not the slightest recollection of any thing that had taken place.

My design, in these remarks, is not to discourage attention to the sick, or in the slightest degree to justify any in neglecting them, but to show that the best season for labour is not that which is generally selected, and that time lost in health can seldom be redeemed in sick

ness.

There are many, who, when conscience tells them that they ought to do something for the salvation of their unconverted neighbours, postpone their efforts for affliction to prepare the way. The cares of life, they think, may then more readily be laid aside, and the attention exclusively directed to the things of eternity. And moreover, at such a time, the call of a

Christian neighbour for the express purpose of
religious conversation will not be thought in-
trusive. "How glad I should be for my hus-
band to be seriously ill!" said a poor woman
one day, greatly to my surprise. On my
asking a reason for so strange a wish, she re-
plied, "O Sir, if he were ill, somebody would
come and talk to him about his soul." The
woman was too ignorant to have intended it as
a personal rebuke; but may it not be the
case, that while we account it a matter of im-
perative obligation to preach Christ to the
sick and dying, we rarely say a word about
him to those who need it not less than they?
Whatever may be its cause, the silence of
Christians is the undoing of thousands.
may be indolence, it may be timidity, it may
be mistaken affection, it may be mere procras-
tination without any assignable reason; but
its results are the same, and those results are
tremendous beyond description.

It

If we could get near enough to the prisonhouse of souls, 1 Pet. iii. 19, to listen to what is passing there, we should overhear conversations which would make our ears to tingle. It is not improbable that our names are there associated with cursing and bitterness, and

4.13.