p. 66 | The Good Shepherd by Mary F. Maxson

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 26, 1864

The Good Shepherd.

By Mary F. Maxson

At the close of a beautiful summer day, being much fatigued, I retired to my chamber and sank down upon a sofa beneath my window. As I lay watching the departure of twilight, the gathering of the darker shades, and the hanging out of the lamps in the dome of heaven, I became absorbed in deep meditation, and was soon lost to all around me. And presently my reverie was broken, by hearing a sweet voice singing,

Jesus my Shepherd is, 'Twas he that loved my soul, 'Twas he that washed me in his blood, 'Twas he that made me whole; 'Twas he that sought the lost, That found the wandering sheep; 'Twas he that brought me to his fold, 'Tis he that still doth keep.

And as the sweet voice died away in the distance, I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep. Visions of surpassing loveliness burst upon my view, and ravished my senses. I was standing upon the brow of a hill, gazing with rapture upon the scene of beauty before me. Oh, the grandeur, the loveliness, the sublimity, of that scene, I can feel, but never describe! Below me were "green pastures" interspersed with "living fountains," whose pure waters sparkled in the gorgeous sunlight, like diamonds and gems. And there amid the "living green" lay the "still waters" like rainbows of silver enshrined in emerald.

As I stood lost in wonder and admiration, a voice of heavenly sweetness broke upon my ear, saying, "I am the good Shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine." I then knew that I was in the heavenly pastures, where the good Shepherd leads his weary, way-worn flock. He entered the fold, and a shade of deep sadness passed over his countenance as he saw that one of the "little ones" was absent. Presently he appeared staff in hand, and said, "I must go into the mountains and seek that which has gone astray. I must bring the wanderer back."

All at once I knew I was the wanderer he was in search of, and instead of finding myself in the beautiful place where I thought I was so recently, I was far away in a dreary land, sitting upon the edge of a deep precipice. On either side of me were dark, dense forests, filled with beasts of prey. The earth was slowly but surely giving way beneath me, and I knew that I should soon be dashed to pieces on the rugged rocks below. In despair I raised my eyes to heaven, but the sight that there greeted me only increased my agony. The sky was shrouded in thick darkness, and at that moment a peal of thunder shook the earth. The lightning flashed from east to west, illuminating the dark forest with one livid glare. The wind moaned and shrieked piteously around me, and the rain descended in such torrents that I came near being swept into the yawning gulf at my feet. With despair deep, dark, and keen, I exclaimed, Oh wretched creature that I am! who shall deliver me? and where, oh where, shall I find shelter from this furious storm?

At that moment I heard footsteps approaching, and a voice behind me said, "A man shall be as a hiding-place from the wind, a covert from the tempest, and as a shadow of a great rock in a weary land." I turned to see who it was that had spoken those sweet words, and the form of a stranger greeted me. The features and voice I knew not, and with a cry of anguish I bowed myself to the earth. When I looked up, the stranger stood by my side, and oh, the look he gave me I shall never forget! In tones of tenderest pity and love he said, "My child, long have I sought you. I have followed you over mountains and hills, through valleys and forests, and at last I have found you, and am come to take you back to my fold. Will you go with me?"

As he uttered those words, the vail fell from my eyes, and I knew that the stranger was none other than my Shepherd, my kind, though neglected, Saviour. I withdrew myself from him; for I felt that I was too vile to be near one so pure and holy, and in anguish replied, I would gladly go back with you, but I am so unworthy, so sinful, and have wandered so far from you, that I dare not hope for forgiveness. But it will be a consolation to my poor heart to know that you pity me. In tones of mingled sadness and love he replied, "I am not come but to seek and save that which was lost." But, Lord, said I, the way is so strait and narrow, so full of perils and dangers, that I dare not undertake the journey. And I have been so long in this terrible place without food or shelter, that I have no strength. I am so weak that I cannot follow thee. He gave me a look of undying love, and replied, "My strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness. My grace shall be sufficient for thee."

As he uttered those melting words, I bowed my head and wept. When I again looked up, I saw a huge cross standing by his side, and knew that it was for me to carry. And in tones of deepest anxiety I exclaimed, O Lord, must I bear that cross? I never, never can. It is so large and heavy that I know I shall sink beneath it. Is there no other way? Can I not follow thee without carrying that cross? He replied, "Whosoever doth not bear his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple." I looked at the cross again, wondering if I could ever bear it, and shrank from it with feelings of dread. My Saviour read my thoughts, and in a grieved tone said, "Ungrateful child! This cross is nothing in comparison to the one I bore for thee. I left my Father's beautiful home, became a man of sorrows; wore a crown of thorns, a robe of derision, and bore the shameful cross—all, all for thee. And wilt thou shrink from this little cross—

this little hour of grief and pain? Unless thou wilt bear the cross, thou canst not wear the crown. But if thou wilt bear the former with patience, thou shalt soon wear the latter in triumph."

At these words I approached him, fell at his feet, and with the deepest joy exclaimed, O my blessed Saviour, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest. Lead me through any danger, any sorrow, any and every trial, only keep me close to thy loving heart, and I will ask no more. He gave me a smile full of heavenly beauty and love, clasped me in his arms, and exclaimed, "I will never, never leave thee, nor forsake thee." With joy I clasped the hand of my gentle Shepherd, and commenced the perilous journey. My happiness was so great that ere I was aware of it, I was singing,

The Shepherd sought his sheep, The Father sought his child; They followed me o'er vale and hill, O'er deserts waste and wild; They found me nigh to death, Famished, and faint, and lone; They bound me with the bands of love, They saved the wandering one.

But a feeling of sadness stole over my happy heart as my Shepherd said, "I must leave you for a little while; but I will not leave you comfortless. I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, even the Spirit of truth, and he shall abide with you forever. I will not leave you long, but will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also."

That promise, and the blessed assurance that I should dwell forever with my loved One, gave me so much happiness that I awoke. But I knew that my dream was all true. I knew I had been just such a wanderer, and that just such deathless love had saved me. I felt the presence of my precious Saviour, and knew that he was near me. The sweet words, "I will not leave you long," went ringing through my soul like a chime of silver bells; and my heart, which for long months had only responded to the low, measured march of death's dirge, now beat quick and joyful to the glorious, lofty strains struck from angel lyres.

Lone wanderer from the fold of God, return, return. Long has the good Shepherd wandered o'er the cold mountains, "his locks wet with the dews of night," in quest of you. Do not longer elude his search, but come, oh come and find shelter 'neath the wings of his love. Do you not hear him saying, "Return unto me, and I will return unto you; I will heal your backslidings and love you freely?" Can you longer wander in the dark wilderness of sin, and grieve such deathless, yearning love? Have you not drunk from the cup of sin long enough to know that it sends only anguish and sorrow to your soul? Yea, it is as a fire kindling around your heart, that will consume your life, unless it is speedily quenched with the dews of divine love. You know there is no joy, no peace, no happiness, true and lasting, to be found, only in Jesus. Then why will you not come back to him? Why will you longer grieve his tender, pitying love?

And you, poor sinner, who have never known the precious Saviour's love, I beg of you to come, taste and see that the Lord is good. His favor, his love, his approbation, is all that is of any real value—all that is worth living for. And the time will soon come, when you would rather have one approving look from him, than many a world like this. Oh, do not longer delay, but give your heart to Jesus now. Remember that time is short, and what you do you must do quickly. The day of God's wrath is hastening on, and soon it will be here. And in that terrible day there will be but two classes. One will with joy exclaim, "Lo, this is our God! we have waited for him, and he will save us;" and the other will take up the sad lamentation, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." To which class will you belong? Now is your time to decide. Oh, I beseech of you to give your heart to Jesus. He will shelter you from the storm that is about to burst upon the ungodly, and at last will lead you to the heavenly pastures on the glorified plains of the new earth.