SOME years ago a little vessel was swiftly passing on her way through a dark winter night, rapidly nearing port. One of the owners of the cutter was on deck, taking a last look before "turning in." The watch was set, and all seemed safe, when suddenly a startling sound reached the quick ear of the captain, and almost before he had time to think, he became aware that a huge vessel was bearing down upon them at full speed. The watch was, perhaps, asleep—at least it was evident that those on board the large ship were unaware of the vicinity of the cutter, and in less time than the reading of this has taken, the two vessels were within a few yards of each other.
It seemed that nothing could save the cutter from being struck amidships, and just as the ships were about to crash together, the captain, with a warning shout, made a desperate leap, thinking to gain the deck of the larger vessel. Alas! he missed his footing and fell down—down into the dark surging waves. Encumbered by his heavy sea-boots and coat, he tried to strike out and swim, but his clothes dragged him down, and his strokes were feeble and vain. As he felt himself sinking—sinking alone in the wild, pitiless waves—he thought of the brothers who so loved him, and who only a few moments before had been safe with him on their vessel: where were they? Ah! he knew not what had happened to them, or whether he should ever see them more.
As he rose once again to the surface he suddenly felt something strike his arm. Eagerly he groped about, and at last grasped a rope, and joyfully began to pull it towards hire, thinking it must be hanging from one of the vessels that had come into collision, but, with an awful failing of heart, he found that it was only a lost cable, itself slowly sinking under the waves!
My reader, when hearing the tale of this brave sailor's eager hope as he first grasped the rope which seemed to offer him the assurance of safety and deliverance, and then of his agony at finding it was useless, it reminded me forcibly of others who are trusting their all, not only for time, but for eternity, to hopes just as fallacious as this hope of being saved from drowning by a drifting rope. It may be that your case is even worse than that of him whose story you are reading. He had the cold, dark billows around and beneath him, but it may be that a heavier, a more terrible weight is upon you, for upon you, little as you may heed it, "the wrath of God" abides, if you have not fled for refuge to the only One who can shield you from eternal death.
Perhaps you are not unmindful of the great realities of death and judgment to come, yet you are trusting to hopes which, after all, may be vain as ropes of sand. If in any way you are thinking that you can help yourself in this great matter of your soul's salvation, you are certainly so trusting. No efforts, however sincere, no turning over a new leaf, will be of any avail. There is One who alone could say, “I am the Way"—one single, glorious Saviour—by whom alone we can be saved. If you have not come to God by Him—if you are not trusting in this one Saviour-you are lost, and all the broken ropes upon which you may be laying hold are utterly worthless.
As our friend let go the deceitful support, which he had so eagerly clutched, he sank again, and well he knew that unless help came very soon he was a lost man; he felt that he was again sinking, and knew nothing more until he found himself grasping something; at which probably he had caught as he rose for the last time, and then, as consciousness returned, he found himself in a most perilous position—he was clinging to the paddle-wheel of the steamer!
Half dead with exhaustion, his voice so faint that he had little chance of being able to make it heard above the roar of the waves, his one hope was in the knowledge of the love of his brothers who had been with him on board the cutter. Yes, their ears were eagerly listening for the faintest sound, and, as they at last caught the piteous moans of their brother, every nerve was strained to reach him, and to release him as tenderly as possible from his dangerous position.
Their hearts ached as they saw the blood streaming from the wounds which he had received as he struck the vessel in his wild leap, but, rejoicing that he was still alive, they bore him to a place of safety.
Long days and weeks of suffering passed away, and left him the mere shadow of what he had been before that terrible night, but he had learned a lesson of his own utter powerlessness—he had learned what it was to be saved by another, Dear reader, have you learned this with regard to your soul? Oh, beseech you, think of it: do not lay this paper down as though it did not concern you. If you cannot say, "Christ loved me, and gave Himself for me "—if you do not know that you are saved by the blood of His cross—go to Him at once; He is always near you; put all your trust in Him, and you will be saved, and you will be able day by day to praise Him who has taught you, letting go all false hopes of safety, to cleave to Him, who is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by Him.