A man abandoned suicide after reflecting on Jesus' suffering and found hope in Christ.
A gentleman was known by his nearest and dearest friend, his wife, never to lie down upon his pillow some years before his death, or raise his head from it in the morning, without repeating the short hymn annexed to this anecdote; and sometimes he would inadvertently burst into ejaculations in company, when two or three lines of it were distinctly heard before he could recollect himself: the cause at that time was unknown; but, after his decease, a paper was found in his bureau to the following purport: "You will no longer be surprised at my involuntary effusions of feeble gratitude to the Almighty, which broke forth occasionally in gay company, when you shall read that many years since the dread of approaching poverty, disgrace, humiliation, and desertion of friends, had brought me to the fatal resolution of putting an end to my existence. Conscious that I had brought misfortune upon a numerous family by my own imprudence, dissipation, and pride, I considered my punishment as an act of justice. The destined moment arrived; already had I loaded, primed, and cocked; when, strange to relate! though I had not read a page in the Bible for years, a reflection came suddenly across my mind; 'Jesus of Nazareth,' said I to myself, 'was a man (for I disbelieved in his divinity) acquainted with sorrows, endured a life of poverty, was exposed to public scorn and derision, suffered pain of body and agony of mind, and had nothing to reproach himself with, yet this reformer of the morals of mankind, this benefactor to society, this illustrious pattern of fortitude, patience, and humility, was, by an unthankful world, put to death: he was crucified! but he crucified not himself!' Repeating these last words a second time with unusual energy, pride, disdain, shame, and contempt of my inability humbly to imitate this striking example of bearing afflictions manfully, produced a passionate conflict of mind, in which paroxysm I madly flung the pistol some distance from me; to add to the affecting scene, it went off, unheard but by my affectionate wife, who religiously kept the secret: her consolations restored me to temporary tranquillity, but the work of Providence was not yet completed; not a week had elapsed, and settled melancholy was again taking possession of my soul, when a letter announced the death of a distant relation, and summoned me to the reading of his will, by which he had bequeathed me sufficient not only to clear me of all encumbrances, but to enable me, with the assistance of a considerable surplus, to exert my abilities in the line of my profession for the support of my family, and even to aim at a moderate independence, which you will find I have at length acquired.'
"Rise, oh my soul! the hour review,
When, awed by guilt and fear,
Thou durst not Heaven for mercy sue,
Nor hope for pity here!
Dried are thy tears, thy griefs are fled,
Dispell'd each bitter care;
For Heaven itself did send its aid,
To snatch thee from despair!
Then here, oh God, thy work fulfil
And from thy mercy's throne
Vouchsafe me strength to do thy will,
And to result my own.
So shall my soul each power employ
Thy mercies to adore,
While Heaven itself proclaims with joy
One rescued sinner more!"