IT was quite a new experience to find myself upwards of 170 fathoms beneath the surface of the earth. At first, however, it did not come up, or rather down, to the level of my expectation, for the state of matters below was not quite so dismal as I was led to expect. Close at the bottom of the shaft the excavation had been bricked and arched, the whole of it had been whitewashed, and two or three large lamps suspended from the ceiling gave a measure of light sufficient, after my eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, to enable me to discern objects, and thus avoid collision with human beings or "tubs," i.e., trucks for carrying coal. Still it was dismal enough, for the whitewash had become dingy, and the lamps did not give overmuch light; but when, leaving this comparatively clean and airy space, we began to penetrate into the recesses of the mine, then it was that I began to realize that I was indeed in "an horrible pit.”
Into these recesses—these long, low, dismal galleries, where the coal yet lies in its native bed in seams four feet and a half thick—the large lamp must not be taken on any account whatever; to do so, would be to peril the lives of hundreds of human beings, and property to the value of many thousands of pounds. The only lamps that are permitted are the "Clary," "Geordie," or "Davy,” lamps of scientific construction, designed to prevent explosion, for the mines are often full of dangerous gas, amid which the miners at times work at the peril of life and limb. Let the miner beware how he injures his lamp; if he does, he may forfeit his own life and destroy the lives of many others; and even though he does not do that, he will require to pay a fine of a sovereign or be dismissed.
It was by the light of a "Clary," the ray of which was scarcely as bright as that of a farthing candle, that we groped our way along through the thick darkness, our guide ever and anon calling out, “Take care of your feet," or, "Stoop your head;” most needful injunctions, for want of due attention to which I stumbled oft, and got more than one knock from the black beams overhead. But this had the effect of awakening reflection, and I began to think, Does not our present position, stumbling along through this visible darkness, illustrate the condition of sinners in this dark world, having no other guide than that of unassisted reason?
The "Clary" is certainly better than nothing, but how much better is the light of the sun? and reason is better than animal instinct, but how much better is the knowledge of Him who says, "I am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life "? And even the big lamps, which, when contrasted with this glimmering "Clary," may be compared to the brightest light that reason can shed, how dim are their rays! Besides, these scientific lamps do not always prevent explosions, and assuredly reason does not always restrain the wild rage of human passions. What folly, then, to reject revelation and substitute reason in its stead! And what folly to be content to live in darkness, when we may have “the light of life"! Yet this is what thousands are doing. Living in "an horrible pit," they turn away from the bright light that streams from heaven, and prefer to walk by the rush-light of their own vain thoughts, by "sparks of their own kindling.”
Returning from our explorations, we again stood at the bottom of the shaft, and then turning to our very civil guide I propounded to him this question:
“Suppose there was no cage, how could we get out of this pit?”
Said our guide, "We could not get out at all.”
“Then," said I, “you do not think we could climb up the 170 fathoms between us and the day-light?”
“Certainly not," said he.
“And supposing there was no Christ, how could we get to heaven?”
“We could not get at all," was the answer.
“But if we get into the cage, it takes us up to the daylight; and if we are in Christ, He takes us up to heaven. Is not that so?”
“Yes, it is," said the miner.
“Then Christ is our cage?”
“Yes," said he, thoughtfully," He is our cage.”
“And," said a brother in the Lord who was standing by, “when we are in the cage we don't require to work to get up, it is the cage that takes us up.” And again the miner assented.
It would give me pleasure to be able to say that the miner, who apparently saw the force of the illustration, had actually got into the heavenly “cage" himself, but, alas, he had not. Like many other sinners, he saw the truth of salvation intellectually, but had never acted upon it; it had never reached his heart through the medium of his conscience, and so it had no power over him. Living in the "horrible pit" of a world at enmity with God, and with his soul defiled by the "miry clay” of sin, he had never availed himself of the salvation of God; and so to him the "cage" which alone can lift him or any one to the height of glory, is of no more advantage than if it had never existed. Alas, that there should be so many like him.
Several years ago I was speaking to a man and his wife in Canada about the gospel of the grace of God. "Oh," said the man, slightingly, “that’s too easy." Said his more enlightened wife, "It was very hard for Christ." This incident was recalled to my recollection by the conversation with my mining friend. It was a very easy matter for me to get out of the pit, for all that I had to do was to go into the cage, and I immediately soared to the sunlight. Nor can I believe that my Canadian friend, had he been there, would have thought the way "too easy." But it cost the owner of the mine a very large sum of money to sink the shaft, and erect the machinery by which it could be made available. And it is very easy, provided only we have faith in God and a sense of our need of Him, to avail ourselves of His salvation. But oh, it was “very hard for Christ," before the shaft of love was sunk sufficiently deep to reach sinners who set at naught all God's counsels and would none of His reproof Look at the bloody sweat in Gethsemane; listen to the bitter cry, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" from Calvary, —and then say, if you dare, that salvation by the cross is "too easy.
But by-and-by the signal which announced the descent of the cage sounded, and so we made for the wished-for conveyance; but when I reached it, lo, I. found it half filled already with miners, as black and dirty as coal dust could make them. For a moment I shrank from their company, but knowing that I had no choice in the matter, I went in, and I went up. Ah, thought I, I cannot choose my company on my way heavenward, for there is no respect of persons with God, and no royal road to heaven. If the Queen gets there, — and may God grant it! —she will ascend by the same conveyance which takes the poorest and meanest believer, even by Him who says, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
IN, and UP. The whole secret of salvation—and, blessed be God, it is an open secret—may be said to be summed up in these two little words. “In Christ," and up to glory; out of Christ, and down to woe. It is a question of position. Reader, where are you? H. M.