“KEEP your son from the card-table,” were the words of an aged sinner, dying “without hope,” to the father of a young man.
“Gambling and betting have damned my soul”
Young man, shun the devil’s baits lest, being ensnared, you become the slave of every vile passion, and sink irrecoverably into the morass of sin.
On certain parts of the coast of Brittany a man walking on the beach at low tide, far from the land, suddenly notices that for some time he has been walking with difficulty. The strand beneath his feet is like pitch. The beach is perfectly smooth and dry, but at every step he takes, as soon as he lifts his foot, the print which it leaves fills with water.
The eye, however, has noticed no change; the immense strand is smooth and tranquil: all the sand has the sane appearance. The man is not anxious, for he sees no danger, only somehow he feels as if the weight of his feet increased.
Suddenly he sinks in, at first two or three inches, now his feet are covered. He will retrace his steps. He turns back, he sinks deeper. The sand comes up to his ankles. He pulls himself out, throws himself to the left, here the sand is half a leg deep. Then he recognizes with unspeakable terror that he is caught in the quicksand. The sand gains on him, the land is far away.
The victim attempts to sit down, to lie down, to creep. Every movement only helps to inter him. He howls, he implores, he wrings his hands. The sand reaches his breast, he throws cap his arms, clutches the beach with his nails, sobs frenziedly.
His face alone is visible. Now he cries aloud for help; the sand fills his month. Silence. The eyes gaze. The sand shuts them. The scene clones in
DARKNESS and DEATH.
What a terrible end! One false step on that treacherous shore―his doom is sealed.
“That cursed drink has been my ruin,” said a young man to me a few days ago. Thousands might echo his words. Young man, take care it be not yours!
“You do not intend to be lost,” certainly not! You pride yourself on knowing “how far to go.” But, “Can a man take fire into his bosom and not be burned?”
Thousands have said the same before you, and found that while they knew “how far to go,” there was a power impelling them onward, carrying them beyond their prescribed limit.
Beware lest the occasional indulgence in sin’s pleasures, ripen into habits which will sink you lower and lower into the quicksand. What you need, my friend, is
A DELIVERER
from the power and effect of sin. Praise God, one has been found! The blessed God says, “Deliver him from going down to the pit: I have found a ransom” (Job 33:2424Then he is gracious unto him, and saith, Deliver him from going down to the pit: I have found a ransom. (Job 33:24)). In Jesus, the deliverer, is your only hope. His grace can meet you just where, and as you are, delivering you from the effect of sin, and giving you victory over every onslaught of the enemy.
Delay not! Make haste—make haste to be saved.
Now! Now! is the accepted time; behold, NOW IS THE DAY OF SALVATION.
J. W. H. N.