THERE was an old man at a toll-gate on a quiet country road whose habit was to shut his gate at night and take a sleep. One dark, wet midnight I knocked at the gate, calling,
“Gate, gate!”
“Coming,” said the old man.
Then I knocked again, and once more the voice replied, “Coming.”
This went on for some time, till at length I grew angry, and jumping off my horse, opened the gate and demanded why he had kept saying, “Coming,” for about twenty minutes, but never came?
“Who’s there?” said the old man, in a quiet, sleepy voice, rubbing his eyes. “What do ye want, sir?” Then awakening, “I beg yer pardon, sir, I was asleep; I gets so used to hearing ‘em knock, that I answers ‘Coming,’ in my sleep, and takes no more notice about it.”
So it is with too many hearers of the gospel who hear by habit, and answer God by habit, and at length die with their souls asleep.
Awake, sleeper! for God “hath appointed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness by that Man whom He hath ordained,” then your idle assents will be all brought to light.
“Too late, too late!” how sad the sound
On anxious, human ears,
Of those who’ve waited long, a prey
To doubts, and hopes, and fears.
“Too late” they’ll feel their lost estate,
Which now they don’t believe;
“Too late” they’ll see the grace of God
Which now they won’t receive.
“Too late” they’ll find the door will shut,
Which now stands open wide;
“Too late” they’ll have to meet their God
With no place then to hide.
O! children, pause ere yet “too late;”
Now is the day of grace,
Now Jesus calls, O! do obey
His pleading, loving voice.
Today ‘tis free to all who come,
And take Him at His word;
Tomorrow’s sun may rise “too late”
For you who now have heard.
ML 10/13/1918