In the living room of a wealthy 1 suburban home, just before the close of the year; several ladies were talking together. One of the company was a young girl, the niece of the owner of the mansion. She was loved and admired by her fond uncle and aunt, who had adopted her as a daughter. There was much to love and admire in this young lady, and as she was well educated and refined, a bright future awaited her in this world.
In the course of the conversation, one of the ladies told of some who planned a get-together on New Year’s eve, to spend the closing hours of the old year in prayer, and asked the young girl if she would like to go.
To her the idea seemed absurd. To spend the last hour of the year in the dull company of Christians, and at a prayer meeting, was not her idea of pleasure. So she at once decidedly refused, and added, “No, I will dance it out.”
Every whim and fancy in which she indulged was sure to meet with instant approval from her relatives, so the dance was quickly decided on.
The last day of the year came; its last hours had been looked forward to with such eager expectation, and the evening’s festivities had been anticipated by the fair young girl who had determined to dance the old year out. Preparations, invitations, and the usual preliminaries had occupied most of her time.
The meeting for prayer began, and earnest supplications were poured forth. But I must ask you to turn with me to the mansion, where vehicles are being driven up, and the company is being ushered in. Amid the blaze and glitter, the halls resound with the gay strains of music and the sound of dancing feet.
The hour of midnight draws nigh. Suddenly, and without any warning, a deathly paleness steals over the fair young face of the gay and thoughtless author of that evening’s pleasure. A doctor who is present, a relative, is hastily at her side. The sound of the evening’s pleasure ceases as she is carried from the ballroom to her room. The physician’s skill avails not. Before the last stroke of twelve has tolled, the girl’s never dying soul has passed out of time into eternity!
Reader, if death were to steal into your room tonight, would your soul be found in the “mansions of bliss,” or in the “regions of woe”?
How did you spend the old year? Has God in grace said of your soul, “Spare it yet another year”? Will the opening of this new year find you one of whom it can be said, “Behold he prayeth,” or does heaven look down upon a creature of ingratitude turning away from a Saviour’s love, sufferings, and death?
The world in its charity may say, “Let us hope that she was saved at the last moment.” We would that it were so; but, as said one who watched the close of her brief life, “She was a good and amiable girl, but she was unprepared to die.”
Let this sudden death speak mightily to your inmost soul and inquire, had you thus been carried away, “Where would you spend eternity?”
ML 12/20/1959