Eternity.

ETERNITY! how long can that be?
Eternity! is it so near?
Come now, consider, let us count it,
And let each item be a year.
Count the tiny blades of clover,
Count the daisies every one,
Count them all the wide world over,
Count the grasses, miss not one:
Count the trees in every forest,
Count the leaves on every tree,
Count the straws in every cornyard,
Count the drops that make the sea:
Count the very tiny sea-sands,
Every mote on every shore,
Count the great beasts, count the small ones,
Count them all this great world o’er:
Count the houses, count the windows,
Count them all in every town,
Count the books that e’er were written,
Every verb and every noun:
Count each word that e’er was spoken,
Count each tear that e’er was shed,
Count the eyes that ever sited them,
Count the hairs of every head.
Think you, when we’d finished counting,
Would Eternity be done?
No, ah, no, when all is counted
Eternity has just begun.
It is endless, and ‘tis nearing,
Hasten them to ready be.
Spent in heaven, ‘twill be all joyous;
Spent in hell, what must it be?
J. S. C.
There is a sharp, shore trite sentence that I would to God were burned deeply in the conscience of every procrastinator― “Remember Lot’s wife.” She was a person who was almost saved, but was not. She was within sight of the place of safety, but failed to reach it. She was on the verge of getting divinely-appointed security, but missed it. Two things worked in her heart to her ruin. Unbelief and disobedience. She did not in her heart believe that God would judge Sodom, and spite of His plain command to the contrary, she would look back, and in that moment she was cut off, and she stands an everlasting beacon of the awful folly of disobedience.
W. T. P. W.