In a large paper factory a number of men, women, and teen-age boys work for many hours each day. It is a veritable beehive of activity.
On a lovely day in September, I entered a long, lofty, spacious section of such a factory, called "the rag room." Considering the number of "hands," the silence was remarkable, perhaps because the "hands" were hard at work. Some were pressing the rags through large machines which rapidly reduced them to shreds. Others of their fellow-workers were sitting or standing at long tables "sorting." Many of them were young and bright, while others were more or less advanced in years, looking toil-worn and joyless.
As I walked up the room, passing out gospel books on the right hand and on the left, I was greeted with many a smile of welcome, and, "It's kind of you to think of us!" One said to me, "You passed me by last time!"
"It was not intentional; did you get no magazine then?"
"No, but a friend lent me hers."
"I am glad of that," I answered; "but here is a book for you today."
At the far end of this room sat an elderly woman, bending low over her work. To her I offered a book.
"I can't see to read," she explained, "but I would like one. I have cataracts on my eyes, but they will soon be removed. I have been to an eye doctor, and he said that when all is quite dark I am to go to him again. My eyes may fail, but they cannot take the gift of faith from me."
The light of earth was growing dim to this dear old woman, but by the God-given gift of faith she endured as seeing Him who is invisible. Reader, can you? Or are you too like some others among these busy workers, hard and indifferent to the gospel message? Would you, like them, refuse it with "I don't want one," or "only a tract; I thought it was a treat!"
"It is better than a 'treat,' " I said, and very unwillingly the little book, telling of a Savior's priceless love, was accepted.
My dear reader, there will be no tracts offered in hell. Not one message of a Savior's pardon and blood-bought peace will ever be sounded forth there, where there is "weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth."
"Now breaks upon my vision
Another scene—unblest—
A sinner unforgiven,
Who seeks in vain for rest.
"I would not have the glory,
Though pressed in Jesus' name;
And as an oft-told story
Treated His cross and shame.
"I would not have salvation,
Though offered full and free;
Eternal condemnation
Must now my portion be."
Beloved reader, is eternal condemnation to be your portion? Obey the gospel call before it is forever too late. Come to the Savior—come now! The present moment is yours, yours! Do not lose it!