Down at the library yesterday afternoon I spent an hour in glancing
through the various volumes of Southey's _Commonplace Book_. And, among
a vast assortment of musty notes that are now of interest to nobody, I
came upon this: 'I have been reading of a man on the Malabar coast who
had inquired of many devotees and priests as to how he might make
atonement for his sins. At last he was directed to drive iron spikes,
sufficiently blunted, through his sandals, and on these spikes he was to
place his naked feet and then walk a distance of five hundred miles. He
undertook the journey, but loss of blood and exhaustion of body
compelled him to rest one day under the shade of a spreading tree. As he
lay there, a missionary approached and began to preach the gospel. He
announced as his theme the words: "_The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,
cleanseth us from all sin_." Whilst the evangelist still preached, the
man sprang up, tore off his sandals, and cried aloud: "That is what I
want! That is what I want!" And he became a living witness to the fact
that the redeeming blood of Christ _does_ cleanse from human guilt.'
'_That is what I want!_' cried Southey's pilgrim on the coast of
Malabar.
'_That is what I want!_' cried Luther in the Wartburg.
'_That is what I want!_' cried Bunyan at Bedford.
'_That is what I want!_' cried Donald Menzies at Drumtochty.
'_That is what I want!_' exclaimed young Hedley Vicars, as his startled
eyes fell upon the tremendous words that seemed to leap from the Bible
on the table. '_The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from
all sin._' 'That is what I want! That is what I want!'
Hedley Vicars appropriated the priceless gift held out to him, and his
whole life was transfigured in consequence. His life--and his death!
For, on that fatal night before Sebastopol, it was with Hedley Vicars as
it was with the soldier with whom the poet has familiarized us.
Everybody knows the story. Two men of God moved in the darkness across
the field on which, that day, a battle had been fought.
And now they stand
Beside a manly form, outstretched alone.
His helmet from his head had fallen. His hand
Still firmly grasped his keen but broken sword.
His face was white and cold, and, thinking he was gone,
They were just passing on, for time was precious,
When a faint sigh caught their attentive ears.
Life was still there, so bending down,
They whispered in his ears most earnestly,
Yet with that hush and gentleness with which
We ever speak to a departing soul--
'_Brother! the blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son,
Cleanseth from every sin._'
The pale lips moved,
And gently whispered 'hush!' and then they closed,
And life again seemed gone.
But yet once more
They whispered those thrice blessed words, in hope
To point the parting soul to Christ and heaven--
'_Brother! the precious blood of Jesus Christ
Can cleanse from every sin._'
Again the pale lips moved,
All else was still and motionless, for Death
Already had his fatal work half done;
But gathering up his quickly failing strength,
The dying soldier--dying victor--said:
'Hush! for the angels call the muster roll!
I wait to hear my name!'
They spoke no more.
What need to speak again? for now full well
They knew on whom his dying hopes were fixed,
And what his prospects were. So, hushed and still,
They, kneeling, watched.
And presently a smile,
As of most thrilling and intense delight,
Played for a moment on the soldier's face,
And with his one last breath he whispered 'Here!'
'_I have sinned! What shall I do?_' cries this despairing soul at the
beginning of my Bible.
'_The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin!_'
answers the man who leaned upon the Saviour's breast and gazed full into
the thorn-crowned face of the Crucified.
'_That is what I want!_' exclaims the man at Malabar, speaking, not for
himself alone, but for each and all of us.
'_Those words are more golden than gold!_' says Miss Havergal, as she
orders them to be inscribed upon her tomb.
'_They are like a gleam from the Mercy-seat!_' cries Donald Menzies.
'_They are the sheet-anchor of my soul!_' Hedley Vicars tells his
sweetheart. And he is a very wise man who, in the straits of his
experience, stakes his faith upon that which such witnesses have tested
and have found sublimely true.