NOT next year, but now; not tomorrow, but today; for we know not what an hour may bring forth. Your case is urgent. To you it may be said, “This night thy soul shall be required of thee.” Tomorrow you may be in eternity. Beware then, we most lovingly say, of trifling with your soul’s salvation, for every one shall give account of himself to God. Remember the solemn, searching questions of Jesus, “What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”
Consider then, dear reader, that “now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” Turn to the Lord now. Oh, do not put it off! It is of vital moment. God says, “Today if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts.” Do hearken to God’s voice now, and do not harden your heart. You are doing one or the other—hearkening to His voice, or hardening your heart. Which is it? How very solemn is the fact that under the sound of the gospel men are hardening their hearts, refusing God’s voice, not receiving His word, many hearing as if they heard not, making a thousand excuses for not coming to the stretched out arms of the sinner-loving Saviour, and receiving forgiveness of Him and eternal life. Do, dear reader, solemnly think of this. Beware of refusing Him that speaketh, for God has spoken to us in these last days by His Son, and still He speaks about His Son, His love, His finished work upon the cross, His atoning death, His being raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, and now crowned with glory and honor at His right hand. I say, God now speaks to us about His Son, as the only salvation, the only righteousness, the only way of access into God’s most holy presence. How can you escape then, if you neglect this great salvation? You perhaps, like many others, intend to be saved one day; but if you refuse the Saviour now, how do you know that that day will ever come? How many souls are caught in this snare of Satan! They try to satisfy themselves that they intend at some future time to come to Jesus; and, if not before, on their death bed. But, alas! alas! they refuse God’s “now;” they will not come “today;” so that instead of a lingering death-bed, as they imagined, they may be suddenly surprised to find themselves in eternity. How solemn this is, and yet how often true!
Beware then, dear reader, of procrastination! Time is short. Your life is but as a vapor. Eternity may be nearer than you think. The Lord Jesus is coming quickly. You know you are not saved—that you have not peace with God. Still the door is open, and God in His rich mercy still calls to you in the gospel to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ that you may be saved. Do think of this. The gospel is God’s message to you, and He says “today”— “now.” Now is the accepted time; now is the day of salvation.
Once more, beware of refusing Jesus. He delights to save a lost one. He welcomes, cleanses, saves forever, and casts out none that come to Him.
“Stop, poor sinner, stop and think,
Before you further go;
Will you sport upon the brink
Of everlasting woe?
Once again I pray you stop,
And Christ as Saviour take;
Or, ere you are aware, you drop
Into the burning lake.”
It was a bright clear night in December, and the good ship Harriet, under reefed topsails, was coming up the Channel before a stiff breeze. Every heart on board was glad; for, after a long and perilous voyage, she was “homeward bound.” On the quarter-deck Capt. H. and Edward L., his first mate, were standing talking together. “We shall be in dock before Christmas, if the wind holds,” L. said. “It is not well for a sailor to set his mind too much on anything, but I have set mine on being in the dear old home at Christmas this year. It is four years since we all met at home, and father and mother say it hasn’t been half Christmas without me.”
Captain H. listened to the young sailor’s eager words; then laying his hand kindly on his shoulder, said gravely, “I do not wonder at your wish, Edward. It is a great pleasure to get home, especially to such a happy home as yours is at Christmas time. But there is something I should like you to wish for still more than that. I want you to be sure that when the voyage of life is passed, there remaineth for you a rest in the glorious home above—
‘Where all the ship’s company meet,
Who sail’ d with their Saviour below.’”
L. was silent for a moment, and grasped the captain’s hand in his. “Captain, you have been a kind friend to me ever since I can remember. If all Christians were like you, I can only say I wish there were more of them. And more than that, what you have so often said to me about religion has made me think very seriously. I really intend to serve Christ too, but not just yet.”
“And why not now, L.?” asked his friend. “I am afraid you will think me cowardly, if I tell you, captain. The truth is that our people always give a ball at Christmas, and it would be a terrible disappointment to them, if I were to hold aloof. They would say I had turned Puritan, and lost my spirits, and I don’t know what else, and it would seem hard to give them pain just on first going home. So I have made up my mind to keep on as usual till after that. Besides, he added, with the frankness of a true English sailor, I expect it will be a downright jolly time, and I’m not inclined to give it up on my own account. But after Christmas, captain, I will turn over a new leaf; see if I don’t.”
The captain felt that human pleading would have little power to overturn the young man’s purpose. In his anxiety, he had recourse to prayer. Standing still, with uncovered head, on the heaving deck, he prayed earnestly, though silently, to his Father in heaven, who could convince his young friend that now was the only certain day of salvation.
L. understood, and felt the unspoken prayer, the words of which he could not hear. His head was bowed too, and his spirit deeply moved; but the tempter was at hand with the deadly suggestion that it was quite as safe, — far better to wait awhile. As the captain bade him “good night,” before turning in, he said gaily, “Now don’t be anxious about me, captain; Christmas will soon be here, and you have my promise after that.”
The captain went below, and left the brave young fellow on deck, bright and mirthful, and ready to quench every feeling of misgiving that the captain’s prayer had caused by lively anticipations of home.
Not ten minutes had passed, when the captain heard hurried footsteps on the deck, then the sharp, clear cry, “Man overboard;” when in another instant he had dashed up the companion-ladder, and looked around. He scarcely needed to ask, “Who is it?” for had it not been Edward L. he would have seen him at once among the gallant fellows who were lowering the boat, ready to peril their own lives to rescue the man in danger. Yes, it was Edward L. Reaching over the quarter-deck to draw an entangled log line he had lost his foothold, and fallen overboard, and the ship went on her rapid way without him. Everything was done that stout arms and brave hearts could do; but all was in vain. The men strained at the oars only to see him throw up his arms and sink. Christmas with its mirth and festivity came to others, but not to him; and as he went down in the cold waters, leaving hope and life behind him forever, it would add a terrible keenness to his agony to remember that not many minutes before that eternal life had been offered to him through Jesus, and he had refused it.
Again, dear reader, we beseech you, in the name of the sinner-loving Jesus, to lay to heart this matter of eternal importance—your own soul’s salvation. God says now, — what do you say? Do you at this moment bow before God to His judgment of your state, who declares you to be guilty before Him? Edward L. did not believe that God meant what He said; but alas! alas! how soon, how very soon, he found himself in eternity! Oh, then, dear reader, accept God’s truth now; bow before Him confessing yourself a guilty sinner now; flee to the outstretched arms of Jesus now; rely on His precious blood now—yes, “today,” “now,”— tomorrow may be too late!