SEE yonder elegant vehicle polished and gilded, with sides and roof of beveled and beautifully figured glass, its interior filled with snow-white flowers! Surely ‘tis a splendid vase of new and rare design? Of new design it certainly is, but it has a use other than that of flower vase, it is a receptacle for the JUDGMENT OF GOD.
You do not understand me! Well, know that death is there, and death is the judgment of God. Lift aside the floral circlets, see! beneath is a coffin, and in the coffin is a corpse, from which death snatched a soul the other day, and sped it into eternity.
Yes, death is the judgment of God, the penalty of disobedience, “the wages of sin.” “By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin,” and so death passed upon all men, for that “all have sinned” (Rom. 5:1212Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned: (Romans 5:12)).
Yet poets and sceptics, religious and otherwise, write and talk most sweetly of death. They call it the discharge of nature’s debt, a mercy in disguise, a friend of man, a ministering angel who goes up and down the earth to put to sleep the sufferer and the aged, and thus end the agony of life.
And men beautify death. They dress the judgment of God in lovely attire, their hearses are things of beauty, their cemeteries among the fairest spots on earth.
But, ‘tis a slander on the Creator to imagine that death was part of His original design.
What! did God form this lovely earth, think you, and give it to man as a home, only to send a monster into it to deprive him of it?
For does not death do this? What else is it that cuts down the child, the youth, the man, taking him from a world that contains all he possesses and loves, into one where he owns nothing?
Just tell me, whither does man go, at death’s imperious call, and what has he there? What have you there?
Millions speak of a better world, and vainly imagine they will gain it as a matter of course when they leave this.
But I ask, if death, as the judgment of God, deprives man of all that he has here, why should it take him to something better across the border? If he has lost this world through his sin, what right has he to heaven?
Death has reigned here for six thousand years, but God did not put him on the throne. Death is sin’s offspring, and was crowned king on that day when man ate of the tree concerning which God had said, “In the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die” (Gen. 2:1717But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die. (Genesis 2:17)).
Yes, sin is the father of King Death, and the Devil supports his throne (see Heb. 11:1414For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. (Hebrews 11:14)). Satan, Sin, and Death are a dreadful trinity, whose prey is man—man, once God’s glory, as made in His likeness and image, now ruled by the devil, ruined by sin, and claimed by death.
And so death is here today, the king of terrors, it is everywhere, and claims every one; it dominates the scene; it came as a blight into God’s world of beauty and casts a shadow evermore across His sunlit earth.
What an awful thing it is, this wrecker of homes, and breaker of hearts, this snapper of all earthly ties, this robber of mankind, this moth that feeds on beauty, this necromancer that transmutes youth into age, laughter to tears, joy to sorrow, and empties the world to fill the tomb.
And he visits all in turn; he knocks sooner ‘or later at every door, and will take no denial. When he comes in, a soul goes out. Out, into the light of heaven, or the darkness of hell.
Come with me to yonder chamber, and I will show you how a sinner dies.
The room is partially darkened by the half-drawn curtains, weeping people surround a dying man, the breath comes quick and short. Disease and pain have marred the pallid face, and the restlessness of death is on him. Outside are flowers and sunshine, but what are these now to him? He is leaving them forever; the shadows of an approaching eternity, mysterious and terrible, have blotted out the brightness and beauty of earthly life.
He is speaking now. Listen, what does he say? Two words, “MY SINS.”
His sins? Yes! he is dying, but memory is alive; from every crevice of her storehouse, from every secret chamber, she brings them forth and marshals them in line before the dying sinner. There they stand, and gibe and jabber at him; how horrible they look, seen now in eternity’s strong light; once these same sins seemed small and insignificant, yea, almost innocent and excusable; now, how changed is their appearance. They crowd around him, and shut out all else; the faces of his beloved ones are hidden, while these monsters, the awful offspring of a misspent life, shout into his ear, and tell him they belong to him, are his, and will never leave him; will cross the border with him, and accompany him to the very bar of God, where they will call for judgment upon the author of their being.
Slowly the hours pass, the darkness of the night gives place to the gray of dawn. Draw aside the curtains and let this passing soul see once more the first rays of the blessed sun; the light strikes the white face once more, and for the last time the lips move. Anxious ears bend to catch the whispered words, “My sins, my sins,” and then all is still.
Another life spent without regard to God is over, another page of human history closed, another soul has passed to the court of eternal justice, where the books shall be opened, and where every man is judged according to his works, and where the judged are cast into the lake of fire, which is the second death.
Plain speaking is not popular today, but it is sometimes kindness to speak plainly, and madness to disregard it.
The volcano of Martinique spoke plainly of coming danger to St Pierre the other day, and Folly’s answer was to put a cordon of gendarmes around the city to keep the people in. But on 8th May 1902, death the terrible, with garments of fire and poisoned breath, sprang into the place; but when death entered, life went out, and today St. Pierre is a city of the dead, a synonym for graveyard; its inhabitants lie withered like cut grass in the fierce rays of the summer’s sun; their sarcophagus a mighty mound of volcanic dust.
Now though God was not the author of death, He has ever in His dealings with man forced upon him the fact that he is under the judgment of death, and nowhere does this come out more clearly than in the Jewish sacrifices. The Paschal lamb, the morning and evening oblations, the burnt offerings, the sin and trespass offerings, all taught the same stern fact, all pointed to the same terrible truth; death was here, was resting on man, and if deliverance was to be affected for him, one must die in his stead, and God thus prepared the way for the coming of the Prince of Life.
The Prince of Life? Yes! And He has been here to give life to man. What is His name? JESUS! Do you know Him? Has He given you life? When He came, He said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” And again, “He that believeth on me path everlasting life.”
Today, Jesus is the Giver of life. Death rests on man as the judgment of God. The Son of God came from heaven to earth, lived here, died here, lay for three days in a grave, then rose again, that thus He might relieve man from death’s claims and domination, its terror, its presence, and its curse, and communicate to him a life whose blessed home and sphere is heaven itself.
In Revelation 1 The Living One, who in grace has died for dying men, presents Himself to His servant John, holding in His hand the symbols of His victory, the keys of hell and of death. These enemies are vanquished for those who trust in Him, their power is broken, their meaning changed. The gloom of the grave is dispelled by the light of Resurrection. The dread of death has vanished, because sin, its sting, has been extracted by Him who was made sin, that He might put it away forever.
From the land of life He bestows life on dying men here, and waits on that heavenly shore to receive them when they cross the flood, that mystic path, which lies between the two worlds.
Yes, heaven has come to the rescue of man. Jesus, the blessed Tree of Life, has come into this world, His branches laden with its precious fruit of everlasting life, that dying men may reach forth their hands, and pluck, and eat, and live forever—may live in paradise with God, in deathless light and love.
Wonderful news. God is for man! His mercy is flowing through this world, life-giving, soul-saving.
His name is Love, and He sits upon His Throne of Grace; Jesus is there, and God speaks of Him to man. He says, “I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.”
Bread of Life! Tree of Life! Fountain of the Water of Life! Oh! lovely titles given to God’s Son, the sinner’s hope, and friend, and Saviour.
Freely! for nothing! These are Grace’s terms. Think of it—life, salvation, heaven, offered without money and without price to bankrupt man; the creature who has lost everything that God once gave him—soul, life, earth. Surely this is good news for you.
Do you thirst, my reader? or are you altogether satisfied with what you have and are? Does no sense of need oppress you? Or are you sensible that you need something which this world cannot supply; something which no effort of yours can obtain? Do you not know that you need life, because death is upon you; salvation, because judgment awaits you; heaven, because you are going to leave the earth? Then know that all these are God’s free gifts to him who receives Jesus, and He waits to bestow them upon you.
Will you keep Him waiting?
“When the day of salvation is drawing to a close,
When thy guilt shall weigh thee to the ground;
When thy heart throbs in terror before eternal woes,
Oh! then no Saviour can be found.
Now there’s One—resource for the guilty—
Jesus! Jesus saith, ‘Come unto Me’;
Still mercy’s bloodstained lintel thy door of hope may be!
O sinner! Jesus died for thee.”
W. H. S.