Death of Lost

Doth not wisdom cry? and understanding put forth her voice? She standeth in the top of high places, by the way in the places of the paths. She crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors. Unto you, O men, I call; and my voice is to the sons of man. O ye simple, understand wisdom: and, ye fools, be ye of an understanding heart.
~ Proverbs 8:1-5

Now when Jesus heard these things, he said unto him, Yet lackest thou one thing: sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me. And when he heard this, he was very sorrowful: for he was very rich.
~ Luke 18:22-23

And ye will not come to me, that ye might have life.
~ John 5:40

As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the LORD, we will not hearken unto thee.
~ Jeremiah 44:16

And he said, Therefore said I unto you, that no man can come unto me, except it were given unto him of my Father. From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him. Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?
~ John 6:65-67

He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy still.
~ Revelation 22:11

The Sad Death of a Lost Man, by Solomon Benjamin Shaw. The following contains an excerpt from his work, “Dying Testimonies of the Saved and the Unsaved”.

Near the town of K, in Texas, there lived and prospered, a wealthy farmer, the son of a Methodist preacher, with whom the writer was intimately acquainted. He was highly respected in the community in which he lived. He was a kind-hearted and benevolent man; but, however, had one great fault — he was very profane. He would utter the most horrible oaths without, seemingly, the least provocation. On several occasions, I remember having seen him under deep conviction for salvation, during revival meetings. On one occasion, during a camp-meeting, he was brought under powerful conviction. He afterwards said he was suddenly frightened, and felt as if he wanted to run away from the place. Just one year from that time, another camp-meeting was held at the same place, and he was again brought under conviction, but refused to yield; after which he was suddenly taken ill, and died in three days. I was with him in his last moments. He seemed to be utterly forsaken of the Lord from the beginning of his sickness. The most powerful medicines had no effect on him whatever. Just as the sun of a beautiful Sabbath morning rose in its splendor over the eastern hills, he died — in horrible agony. All through the night previous to his death, he suffered untold physical and mental torture. He offered the physicians all his earthly possessions if they would save his life. He was stubborn till the very last; and would not acknowledge his fear of death until a few moments before he died; then, suddenly he began to look, then to stare, horribly surprised and frightened, into the vacancy before him; then exclaimed, as if he beheld the king of terrors in all of his merciless wrath, “My God!” The indescribable expression of his countenance, at this juncture, together with the despairing tones in which he uttered these last words, made every heart quake.

His wife screamed, and begged a brother to pray for him; but he was so terror- stricken that he rushed out of the room. The dying man continued to stare in dreadful astonishment, his mouth wide open, and his eyes protruding out of their sockets, till at last with an awful groan,

“Like a flood with rapid force, Death bore the wretch away.”His little three-year-old son, the idol of his father’s heart, was convulsed with grief. This little boy, then so innocent, grew up to be a wicked young man, and died a horrible death. Oh how sad! When we reflect that in hell there are millions of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, hopelessly lost, given over forever to the mad ravages of eternal, pitiless wrath, ever frightened by real ghosts, tortured by serpents and scorpions, gnawed by the worm that never dies; and when we reflect that this, the future state of the wicked, will never abate its fury but, according to the natural law of sin, degradation and wretchedness, will grow worse and more furious as the black ages of eternity roll up from darker realms, we turn for relief from the sad reverie to the Man of Sorrows, who tasted death for every man, then to the beautiful city. whose builder and maker is God, to the bliss of the glorified who will shine as the stars for ever and ever; then with renewed efforts we continue with gratitude to work out our own, and the salvation of others, with fear and trembling.

“Five Minutes More to Live”, by Solomon Benjamin Shaw.

A young man stood before a large audience in the most fearful position a human being could be placed-on the scaffold! The noose had been adjusted around his neck. In a few moments more he would be in eternity. The sheriff took out his watch and said, “If you have anything to say, speak now; as you have but five minutes more to live.” What awful words for a young man to hear, in full health and vigor!

Shall I tell you his message to the youth about him? He burst into tears and said with sobbing: “1 have to die! I had only one little brother. He had beautiful blue eyes and flaxen hair. How I loved him! I got drunk — the first time. I found my little brother gathering strawberries. I got angry with him, without cause; and killed him with a blow from a rake. I knew nothing about it till I awoke on the following day and found myself closely guarded. They told me that when my little brother was found, his hair was clotted with his blood and brains. Whisky had done it! It has ruined me! I have only one more word to say to the young people before I go to stand in the presence of my Judge. Never, Never, NEVER touch anything that can intoxicate!”

Whiskey did it! The last words of this doomed young man make our heart ache, and we cry out to God, “How long, how long shall our nation be crazed with rum? When, oh when, will the American people wake up?” Oh that the professed people of God would vote as they pray. What about the licensed saloon that deals out this poison that sends millions reeling and crazed with drink to hell? What about the multitudes of innocent people who are killed by inches and sacrificed to the god of rum? We protect and license a man who deals out death and destruction, and hang a man who gets drunk and kills his neighbor. Who was most to blame — this young man, or the saloon-keeper who made him crazy, or the government that gave the saloon-keeper license not only to make crazy but to ruin soul and body? God help us to decide this question in the light of the coming judgment. Amen.

“Oh! I Have Missed It At Last”, by Solomon Benjamin Shaw.

Some time ago, a physician called upon a young man who was ill. He sat for a little while by the bedside, examining his patient, and then he honestly told him the sad intelligence that he had but a very short time to live. The young man was astonished; he did not expect it would come to that so soon. He forgot that death comes “in such an hour as ye think not.” At length he looked up into the face of the doctor, and, with a most despairing countenance, repeated the expression, “I have missed it — at last.”

“What have you missed?” inquired the tenderhearted, sympathizing physician. “I have missed it — at last,” again he repeated.

“Missed what?””Doctor, I have missed the salvation of my soul.”

“Oh, say not so — it is not so. Do you remember the thief on the cross?”

“Yes, I remember the thief on the cross. And I remember that he never said to the Holy Ghost, ‘Go thy way.’ But I did. And now He is saying to me, ‘Go your way.'” He lay gasping a while, and looking up with a vacant, starting eye, he said, “I was awakened and was anxious about my soul a little time ago. But I did not want to be saved then. Something seemed to say to me, ‘Don’t put it off, make sure of salvation.’ I said to myself, ‘I will postpone it.’ I knew I ought not to do it. I knew I was a great sinner, and needed a Savior. I resolved, however, to dismiss the subject for the present. Yet I could not get my own consent to do it until I had promised to take it up again, at a time not remote and more favorable. I bargained away, resisted and insulted the Holy Spirit. I never thought of coming to this. I meant to have made my salvation sure, and now I have missed it — at last.”

“You remember,” said the doctor, “that there were some who came at the eleventh hour.”

“My eleventh hour,” he rejoined, “was when I had that call of the Spirit. I have had none since — shall not have. I am given over to be lost. Oh! I have missed it! I have sold my soul for nothing — a feather — a straw — undone forever!” This was said with such indescribable despondency, that nothing was said in reply. After lying a few moments, he raised his head, and looking all around the room as if for some desired object, he buried his face in the pillow, and again exclaimed in agony and horror, “Oh! I have missed it at last!” and died.

Reader, you need not miss your salvation, for you may have it now. What you have read is a true story. How earnestly it says to you, “Now is the accepted time!”

“Today, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts” (Heb. 3: 7, 8).