FRANK―and the writer of these lines were companions in youth and great friends. Frank chose a seafaring life. I remained in England. When we separated, distance did not dissolve the tie which had for so many years bound us together. Often did we think of the pleasant past, when we cared for little more than that which the present afforded. We each had parents, who possessed true Christian principles, who taught us from our infancy to value that precious Word which is able to make us wise unto salvation through faith in Christ. And those early lessons, I am bold to say, left traces of unspeakable value―though the mere knowledge of these things can never suffice for the salvation of our souls. But to hear the sweet story of Jesus and His love, even at a time when the listlessness of childhood gives no encouragement for its recital, is sure to bring its own reward.
This was proved, by the grace of God, in one of us, for hardly had fifteen years rolled away, before my soul began to be personally interested in the precious gospel of God.
Years passed after the day Frank left England for the sea, and we met again, and, as it proved, for the last time. Since I had been brought to repentance I was very desirous that my friend should with me taste that the Lord is gracious.
I pleaded with him, reminded him of the mercy which had protected him from many a danger on the deep, and from many a snare on land—of that voice which called repeatedly and patiently, but which had, up to the present time, been unanswered. But, alas, all was in vain! He thought there was time enough ahead to consider these things, and that the bed of death was the most fitting place for such serious contemplation.
“There is time yet,” he said, as he left me.
Oh, what misgivings filled my soul! What doubts as to whether we should ever meet again! What hesitancy to utter the farewell words, lest they should be indeed the last Strange that we should think of such things, and yet not strange when we ponder over the uncertainty of our present existence. So we parted.
Some few weeks elapsed before I heard of him again; and then it was from our local newspaper. There I saw that in the darkness of a stormy night, Frank had fallen overboard, and was lost.
I fully grant that it is not for us to pronounce on such a case. God alone knows.
The word of God cannot be broken, and it distinctly says, “Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God;” and again, “He that believeth not shall be damned.”
My beloved reader, Satan has no more successful opiate than that of infusing into the thoughtless hearts of the young these poisonous words, “There is plenty of time.” And frequently, through deferring, the heart becomes so hardened that the cry is changed for that more awful one, “Too late, too late; there is now no hope.”
May God, who is rich in mercy, and delights in saving, give you decision for Jesus. There is no time to lose. What will you barter away that precious, undying soul for a few moments’ pleasure, and refuse this loving Saviour? Be wise while it is called today; tomorrow may not be.
With my heart yearning over poor Frank, I write these lines. Oh! do not put off the question of eternity, and say, “There is time yet.”