ANXIOUS eyes were straining seawards, when, presently, through blinding rain and driven surf, a small craft making for the shelter appeared in the distance. The sailors standing upon the pier head knew captain and crew of the old sloop, and watched her progress eagerly. To enter the harbor was a work of no slight difficulty, for the least swerving from the course would surely end in the erring vessel being, without recovery, hurled back into the surf outside, and her being in a few minutes crushed to splinters among the rocks.
On comes the sloop, each wave hurrying her swiftly homewards. And now you can see the crew and hear their voices, whilst breathless silence reigns amongst the watchers on pier and shore. Will she gain the harbor mouth? Within, the waters are still and the vessels safe; without, the white waves boil and rage, flinging the sloop in great leaps onward toward the narrow entrance between the pier heads!
There is but one wave more to overcome, and, borne upon it, the little vessel rushes on. It is a struggle between helmsman and wind and wave. Her bowsprit is now beyond the pier head —a few inches more and she will be safe. Ah! she strikes the stone wall with a terrible crash; a shout of horror rises up― backwards the old sloop is flung into the roaring waters, and driven, a, helpless wreck, to be pounded and crushed amongst the rocks.
Almost in harbor! Almost safe! A few more inches and the stone wall had been escaped; but that fatal “almost” is her doom and destruction. Never will she have another opportunity, never set sail again in storm or calm. As the night falls her timbers strew the shore.
We sat beside a dying man. His last day on earth had come. He had lived a godless life, and his sins were many; but Jesus died for the ungodly, and His blood cleanses from every sin-great indeed the sinner, but greater, ah! greater far the Saviour! With deep anxiety we watched the progress of his soul. Would he enter the haven of God’s rest? Eagerly had we pointed him to the Redeemer, and told him of God’s free grace, and he seemed to listen, seemed to see the way in, and to be steering straight for Christ; indeed, some of us fondly hoped his soul was entering into peace with God through Jesus. Within the harbor of God’s love all is calm and secure, but there is only one way into the shelter — faith in Jesus. Would this dying man enter in?
And now his last day on earth had come. Life’s billows were nearly over. Ah! before his last day on earth closed, the hour of his grace ended. He threw off all restraint; he had missed the only way in. With his gasping breath he cursed the safety which he was entreated to enter. Gathering up his little strength, and supporting himself upon his elbows on his bed, with dying voice he commanded us to begone, and to speak no more of Christ.
Oh; we see him wrecked before our eyes, cast into the waters of destruction; him, who had been so nearly saved; who had almost reached the harbor; who had been almost persuaded.
Almost a Christian, but not altogether; almost saved, but altogether lost. Fearful words to weep out through all eternity, “I am in hell; I was almost a Christian!”
Reader, how is it with you? Are you altogether safe?
It is vain to trust to being almost saved. The little child brought up by pious parents, the young man under the influence of a Christian home, the regular attendant at the gospel service, and the habitual reader of the Bible, are to be reckoned amongst the almost saved, and amongst the wrecked and altogether lost. Let nothing hinder you this very day from seeking and ending salvation. Life, health, friends, are nothing when compared with your soul. All that this world can give is lighter than vanity when compared with eternity.