Transcribed from the 19th century Religious Tract Societyedition ,
No. 803.
NARRATIVESERIES.
THE
DYING GIPSY
“Be sure your sinwill find you out.” Numb. xxxii. 23.
Conscience, say some, is a merewhim, that frightens weak minds, renders man a coward, and cutsshort half his purposes. But is it not rather the candle ofthe Lord shining in man’s dark bosom, to bring to light thehidden wickedness of the heart; that well-known voice which givesno sound, yet will be heard—that hand often felt, thoughnever seen? Reader! it you regard this inward monitor, (andI trust you do,) you will not then turn away from the followingrelation of facts.
Several reports were brought to P—, of a dying gipsy,who was lying in a camp two miles off; that his mind was greatlydistressed at the prospect of death, that he had offered a sum ofmoney for a person to read to him a portion of the Bible, andthat he had also offered money to a poor woman for reading to himpart of the Book of Common Prayer; and further, that he haddeclared he could not endure the thought of dying till God hadforgiven him.
Not being able that day to visit him myself, I prevailed on afriend to go instead, to whom the gipsy gave an account ofhimself in nearly the following words:—
“My name is Stanley, my ancestors were oncerespectable, my great-grandfather was a principal officer in thearmy of the commonwealth; but the family falling to decay, myfather took up with the wandering life of the gipsies; among themI was born, and have continued to the present time. I amnow in my eightieth year, and have led a long and wicked life;but there is one thing that troubles me above all the rest. About forty years ago, in the course of conversation with abrother of mine, I p.2cursed the Almighty to his face! From that time,sir, I have been a stranger to peace; the recollection of myblasphemy has followed me ever since; I cannot forget it; ithaunts me from place to place; alone or in company, it is thesame. I get no rest; my wickedness fills me with horror; Iam indeed a monster; often have I tried to remove the impression,but it is impossible. O, sir, my sin it too heavy for me tobear! Such has been its influence upon my spirits, that thebare mention of God’s name would bring a trembling upon me,and fill my mind with anguish. As long as I could, Iconcealed the cause of my uneasiness, till it became too painfulto bear, and I was at length induced, about two years ago, toreveal it to my family; from that time I have earnestly soughtfor God’s forgiveness, but I still feel his handheavy. O might I but be pardoned! I could then die inpeace; but, sir, with this burden upon my soul, death will indeedbe dreadful.”
Having heard his affecting relation, my friend immediatelyspoke of Jesus Christ—of his death on the cross for thesalvation of sinners, and exhorted him to believe in the Son ofGod, who died for the sins of the world; assuring him, that therewas mercy with God to pardon him; that the divine compassion waslike the boundless sea; that the arm