A lady was once distributing tracts on board a steam-packet; and, amongst others, she handed one to a gentleman. She passed along the deck, and as she returned she was deeply pained to see him tear the tract in fragments and fling it overboard. She simply said, as she walked past him, “You will have to account for that.”
The gentleman thought no more of the matter. The tract was flung upon the waters, as he imagined, and he forgot all about it. But not so the living God. He had not forgotten either the tract or the man who had torn it up. He caused a little scrap of that torn tract to be blown by the breeze into the gentleman’s bosom; and that very night, as he was undressing to go to bed, the fragment of the tract fell out of his bosom. He took it up. It was but a very small scrap; but it was just large enough to contain two words of immense weight and deep solemnity, namely, God and eternity; and along with these two words, the lady’s pointed utterance came back to Ids memory, “You will have to account for that.”
Thus, then, this gentleman had before his mind those three grand and solemn realities, God—Eternity—Judgment. Tremendous words! He lay down, but not to sleep. There was no sleep for his eyes, or slumber for his eyelids that night. He was full of tossing to and fro till the morning. The words, God, eternity, and “you will have to account for that” rang in his ears, and sounded deep down in his heart.
He arose from his couch and sought to drown his anxiety in the cursed intoxicating cup. But it would not do. He awoke from his wine only to feel with augmented force those solemn words, “God! —Eternity!—Judgment to come!” In short an arrow from the quiver of God had entered his soul. He had thought to get rid of that little tract—to drown that silent messenger. But no; God had His eye upon him. God sent the breeze and caused it to blow that identical scrap of the torn tract into his bosom. Of the scores of scraps into which the tract had been torn, not one would do but that very one, because it contained the very words which the Eternal Spirit meant to use as an arrow to pierce his soul.
How marvelous are God’s ways! Who but an atheist could doubt that the hand of God was in that breeze which blew that little fragment into the gentleman’s bosom? Blessed be His name, He knows how to reach the soul; and when He begins to work, nothing and no one can hinder. He had His eye upon that precious soul, spite of all his enmity and all his efforts to turn aside the arrow which sovereign grace had aimed at his heart. The gentleman thought to get rid of the tract; but God was determined that just so much of the tract should lodge in his bosom as contained the arrow that was to be lodged in his heart. In vain did the gentleman seek to get rid of his impressions, to stifle his convictions. His misery increased, his anxiety became more intense. There was but one thing which could heal his wound and that was the precious balm of the gospel, the soothing virtues of the blood of Christ. He was brought under the sound of the gospel, and his troubled soul found rest in the finished work of Christ.
And now reader, what sayest thou to these things? Hast thou ever felt aught of the awful solemnity of those words, “God—Eternity—and Judgment to come?” Remember, we earnestly pray thee, thou hast, sooner or later, to meet God—to stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. Do think of this! Think of what it will be to meet God out of Christ—to stand, in all thy sins, before the great white throne, where every man will be judged according to his works—to spend a never ending eternity in the dreadful flames of hell. We confess the thought is perfectly appalling. Eternity! What an overwhelming word! Say, beloved reader, art thou prepared for it? If not, why not? Why delay another moment? Why not flee now—just now, to the arms of a Savior-God who stands ready to welcome thee to His bosom? Oh! do come, we earnestly beseech thee! Come to Jesus, just as thou art. Trifle not with thy precious immortal soul. Suffer not the god of this world any longer to blind thine eyes, and deceive thine heart. Let not the pleasures of sin and the fascinations of the world any longer detain thee. Flee from the wrath to come. Time is short. The day of salvation will soon close, the acceptable year of the Lord will speedily pass away from thee. The door of mercy will soon be closed upon thee forever.
Do, oh! do, dear fellow sinner, listen to the warning note once more sounded in thine ear. God calls thee. Jesus calls thee. The Eternal Spirit calls thee. Turn not away thine ears. Say not, “Time enough.” Thou knowest not what the next hour may bring forth. It may be thou wilt never see another sun rise; and oh! the thought of being cut off in thy sins and consigned to an everlasting hell is intolerable. We long for thy salvation. We would entreat thee by all that is grave, solemn, and momentous, to come this very hour to Jesus. Trust Him and thou shalt never perish. Believe in Him and thou shalt be saved. May this paper prove to thy precious soul an arrow from the quiver of God!
But ere the trumpet shakes
The mansions of the dead,
Hark, from the gospel’s cheering sound,
What joyful tidings spread!
Ye lost ones, seek His grace
Whose wrath ye cannot bear;
Fly to the shelter of His cross,
And find salvation there.