e of the Master, let us be faithful as
well as tender.

There are many cases of extreme and critical illness when the presence
of even the most loving pastor may be an unwise intrusion. An excellent
Christian lady who had been twice apparently on the brink of death said
to me: "Never enter the room of a person who is extremely low, unless
the person urgently requests you to, or unless spiritual necessity
absolutely compels it. You have no idea how the sight of a new face
agitates the sufferer, and how you may unconsciously and unintentionally
rob that sufferer of the little life that is fluttering in the feeble
frame," I felt grateful to the good woman for her advice, and have often
acted upon it, when the family have unwisely importuned me to do what
would have been more harmful than beneficial. On some occasions, when I
have found a sick room crowded by well-meaning but needless intruders, I
have taken the liberty to "put them all forth," as our Master did in
that chamber in which the daughter of Jairus was in the death slumber.

A great portion of the time and attention which I bestowed upon the sick
was spent on chronic sufferers, who had been confined to their beds of
weariness for months or years. I visited them as often as possible. Some
of those bedridden sufferers were prisoners of Jesus Christ, who did me
quite as much good as I could possibly do them. What eloquent sermons
they preached to me on the beauty of submissive patience and on the
supporting power of the "Everlasting arms!" Such interviews strengthened
my faith, softened my heart, and infused into it something of the spirit
of Him who "Took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses." McCheyne, of
Dundee, said that before preaching on the Sabbath he sometimes visited
some parishioner, who might be lying extremely low, for he found it good
"to take a look over the verge."

In my pastoral rounds I sometimes had an opportunity to do more
execution in a single talk than in a score of sermons. I once spent an
evening in a vain endeavor to bring a man to a decision for Christ.
Before I left, he took me up-stairs to the nursery, and showed me his
beautiful children in their cribs. I said to him tenderly: "Do you mean
that these sweet children shall never have any help from their father to
get to Heaven?" He was deeply moved, and in a month that man became an
active member of my church. He was glued to me in affection for all the
remainder of his useful life.