ONE winter evening, some years ago, I was making my way home through the streets of Reading, when, as I passed over the bridge across the river Kennet, I noticed a number of people standing along the bank, and anxiously scanning the surface of the swollen stream. On inquiry I learned that there was a man in the water.
How I shuddered as I gazed upon those rushing waters, and thought of the fate of him who was then hopelessly in their power, for he had been under the surface some twenty minutes when I came up.
None knew who he was, beyond that he was a traveling man, who had gone into a greengrocers to buy some oranges to sell again, and while the shopkeeper was gone into the room at the back of the shop to get some change, he reached over the counter and took some money out of the till. The shopkeeper, returning rather suddenly, saw what he had done, and, seizing him by the jacket, she called loudly, “Police! Police!”
The man, finding himself thus taken to, rushed off down the street, with the woman holding on to his jacket, crying in her highest key, “Police! police!” and a burly policeman, having heard the call, was coming behind as fast as a pair of good legs would carry him. It was a moment of excitement. The thief could not get along very fast with the woman hanging to his coat, and the policeman was gaining upon him. There was not a moment to be lost, so, with a violent effort, he freed himself from her grasp, and it seemed as though he would have escaped unrecognized: but a short distance from where he left the woman a narrow street branched off to the right, and this, no doubt, seemed to offer more cover for him as he rushed on, as there were no lamps, save the one at the top. He had not gone far when a low wall and palisading brought him to a standstill. There was but one way out of the street, and now that was stopped by the policeman, and a crowd of people anxious for his arrest. Quick as thought he mounted the low wall, scaled the palisade, and was―safe it? No.
His piercing cries for help too plainly told the people that he was in the river, and fast drifting beyond their reach. It is some distance round to the bridge and the steps down to the river’s bank, and as they rushed to this point the cries of the drowning man, which at first rent the air, ceased, and when they reached the riverside there was not a trace of him to be seen.
After half an hour’s search, one who had been dragging called for help, as his drags had struck something, which proved to be the body of the man who but a brief while before was rushing madly down the street in the full vigor of manhood. What a change!
At the time this incident occurred, like many others, I professed to have done with religion, and to care for none of these things. But for all this, I could not shake off the feeling of uneasiness that had taken hold of me when I knew that this poor fellow was beyond all human help, Many a time had I tried to persuade myself that man had no soul; yet when gazing on that terror-stricken-face, all cold and white in death, the question would arise, “What if it had been, you?” I had boldly affirmed that there was no such place as hell. Yet all my affirmations could not silence the voice within, which would demand answer to the question. “Where is he now?”
But now that through. God’s grace I have believed to the saving of my soul, I see that this incident is a painful illustration of the fatal course of many thousands who, in the vain hope of escaping the consequences of their sins, are rushing through the darkness into the very pit of destruction, where no help can reach them, and the voice of mercy never comes.
Dear reader, how is it with you? Have you ever faced the subject fairly? What about your sins? Have you come to God about them, and learned how He can righteously forgive you through the merits of His beloved Son, who died, “the Just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God”? Can you rejoice in Him as your Saviour, “who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness,” by whose stripes you are healed?
Or are you seeking the cover of darkness to hide you from the wrath that you know your sins well merit?
Beware of the folly of so doing. No darkness can hide from the all-seeing eye of God, who knows your sins and guilt far better than you do, and yet bears with you, not willing that you should perish, but rather that you should turn to Him and live. Hark now to the call of mercy “Why will ye die? Be ye reconciled to God.”
“Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” The gift of Jesus is God’s remedy for your sin, and now the call of mercy comes to you in your darkness, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”
Seek no longer to hide your sins, but come to Him who can blot them out and cleanse you from all guilt. Trust your soul to Him who was nailed to the cross for you, and know the blessedness of His pardoning grace, who on that cross endured the forsaking of God, when made sin for us, and yet could give title to the penitent thief to a home in paradise that day with Himself.