How Some People Die

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 11, 1870

How Some People Die.

ALL death-beds resemble each other in suffering, in seriousness, in solitude. One look of death makes everybody in earnest. Every death-bed is hung round and round with photographs of sin, of hell, of eternity. There is overwhelming interest in watching a young man moving up reluctantly to the sword of the king of terrors. Old age waiting for the final stroke moves our pity. If we were not wicked in heart, no preacher on earth would impress us like death.

Having one day accidentally met a doctor, I was requested by him to visit one of his patients who was near her end. I found her in an upper room of a poor tavern, in almost every kind of discomfort. It was not difficult to see “death's pale ensign” over her face. Having set the Lord Jesus before her as tenderly as I could, and having endeavored to suit the message of mercy, by varieties of simple language, to her condition, I wished to know the workings of her mind, and asked her—Will you come to Jesus for pardon and redemption? Once and again she answered me—it was the only answer I could get—“Yes, when I am better.” A few hours after, when I again called, she was dead.

Have you ever considered, my reader, the hardship the laboring poor have to suffer for want of suitable houses to live in? It may be that you have a ceiled and cedared mansion of your own, the comforts of which prevent you from thinking of life in a hut or a garret. That men with minds and bodies like your own should be doomed in such large numbers to the tenancy of rooms unfit for human habitation—and that at a time when riches and their attendant luxuries are so largely possessed around them, is surely a great evil under the sun—an evil for which God will visit.

Of all the abodes of the poor, the garret of a public house is the worst. There is no peace—there is no Sabbath—there is no home. And there are the foul scenes of intoxication to be witnessed day and night. The ameliorating influences of society, education, and religion, are generally shut out. Brought up among the orgies of drink, what can the poor man's children be?—what can his wife be!—what can he be himself! Habits of worship, of cleanliness, of industry, of sobriety, are gradually given up; and the family has started on their career of ruin.

My poor dying friend, I found, had lived for years in the tavern, had probably made too free with drink, had lived an ungodly life; and now, while face to face with death, refused to see the danger, and clung to the hope of life when there was no hope. She felt that the work of suffering was enough for her just then; and, as to the salvation of Christ, it should be attended to when she got well.

The conduct of the dying woman impressed me much. She spoke out fearlessly what many other people feel, but do not say. She was unwilling and unfit to die. She had no doubt about that—and she would seek Christ, but not now. She could not die at this time, and she would not. She had years to live yet; and when health would come back, she would lead a virtuous life. Oh! fearful delusion—deep as hell.

The unsaved, when drawing near their end, open the Bible and send for the minister. They are attentive to his teachings, and earnestly unite with him in his prayers. They will quote texts, and profess penitence, and express confidence in Christ. They generally enter the ocean of eternity in the ship called “Carnal Security.” They have no bands in their death. They are quite sure of entering the kingdom of Heaven.

I have found that the greatest sinners frequently leave the world in this way. Is it not strange, my reader, that there are many men whose eyes are so shut that not even death can open them? Sin is not sin to them; hell is not hell to them; the Jehovah of the Bible is a God with whom they have nothing to do.

My poor acquaintance had once, I understood, made a profession of religion. When the bloom of youth was upon her, she had attended the house of God, and heard the gospel of his grace. Marriage came, and a charge of home came, and little children came, and drink came, and apostasy came, and death came, and then came—Oh! my God, what a fearful history this—to how many, poor and rich, does it apply!

It is not often that a man or a woman who lays the religious profession aside through sin, ever seriously takes it up again. The green tree blasted by lightning withers away. The heart that, knowing better, deliberately chooses sinful things, is generally abandoned to them. There is an accursed calm about backsliders as they live without God, and dispense, like brute beasts, with even the semblance of religion. It settles down on them gradually. They are placid as a mountain lake—no storm nor trouble can ruffle their bosom. The deepest and most helpless sleepers I know are those who, having once enjoyed a powerful gospel ministry, are fallen into the arms of spiritual death. They are comfortable in sin.

The poor woman put off her salvation till health came; and alas! she perished. Are you sure, my gentle reader, that you are not doing the same? You intend to seek the Lord when you grow up to maturity—when you have learned your trade, or left school and college—when you get a house of your own—when your fortune is made, and a serene old age is reached. You are very busy now—working, sinning, suffering—and you cannot come to Jesus. Your plans of pleasure and profit are ripening every hour, and when you have drained the cup of indulgence and success, you expect to turn to the Lord.

This is the way souls have sinned and perished from the beginning of the world. Sinner, pause and pray. You have a soul to be saved. You are under sentence of death—a sentence that may be executed any moment. To perish in your sins is to perish eternally. God is just, and will by no means clear you. Beware of that life of placid ease which irreligious men generally lead. Through the faith of the name of the Lord Jesus, you may have the remission of sins. By the grace of the Holy Ghost you may enter the strait gate. Oh, think of eternal life, and serve Him who bestows it. There is nothing on earth so awful as an impenitent death-bed.—Sterling Tract.