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A soldier lay wounded on a hard fought field. The roar of the battle had died away, and he rested in the deathly stillness of its aftermath. Off over the field flickered the lanterns of the survivors, searching for wounded ones who might be carried away and saved. This poor soldier watched, unable to turn or to speak, as the lanterns drew near. Then a light flashed in his face and the surgeon bent over him, shook his head, and was gone. By and by the party came back, and again the kindly surgeon bent over him. “I believe if this poor fellow lives till sundown tomorrow, he will get well.” In a moment the surgeon was gone, but he had put a great hope in the soldier’s heart. All night the words kept repeating themselves – “If I live till sundown I shall get well.” He turned his head to the east to watch for the dawn. At last the stars went out, the east quivered with radiance, and the sun rose. Intently his eye followed the orb of day. He was growing weaker – could he live till sundown? He thought of his home. “If I live till sundown, I shall see it again. I will walk down the shady lane. I will drink again at the old mossy spring.”
He thought of his wife who had put her hand shyly in his, and had brought sweetness to his life. “If I live till sundown, I shall look once more into her deep, loving eyes.” He thought of the little children that clambered on his knees, and tangled their little hands in his heart strings. “If I live till sundown, they will again find my parched lips with their warm kisses, and their fingers shall run once more over my face.”
Then he thought of the old mother who gathered these children about her, and breathed her old heart afresh in their brightness, that she might live till her big boy came home. “If I live till sundown, I shall see her again, and I will rest my head at its old place on her knees, and weep away the memory of this desolate night.”
And the Son of God who had died for men, bending down from the stars, put the hand that had been nailed to the cross on the ebbing life, and held on the staunch until the sun went down and the stars came out, and shone down into the brave man’s heart, and blurred in his glistening eyes. And the surgeon came again, and he was taken from death to life.
There are human hearts that are sorely wounded by sin, and by the rejection of the love of Christ, and the Son of God bends down from the stars, and the hand that was nailed on the cross lifts the latch, and the door of salvation is opened; and the voice that is so tender sends its invitation to every heart in the darkness outside the door: “Enter, enter now, into blessedness and peace. Come unto me, and I will give you rest.”