A MERCHANT sat at his office desk, various letters were spread before him; his whole being was absorbed in the intricacies of his business. A zealous friend of the Gospel entered the office: “I want to interest you a little in a new effort for the religious good of your neighborhood; “said the good man.
The merchant cut him short by replying,
“Sir, you must excuse me; but really I'm too busy to attend to that subject now.”
“But, sir, the bodies and souls of the people at your door are being led by the devil to ruin.”
“Are they? Well, I'm sorry, but I'm too busy at present to do anything.”
“When shall I call again, sir?”
“I cannot tell. I'm really very busy, I'm busy every day. Excuse me, sir, I wish you a good morning." Then bowing the intruder out of the office, he resumed the study of his papers.
The merchant had frequently repulsed those who loved the Lord and the souls of men in this manner. No matter what was the object, he was always too busy to listen to their claims on his attention. He had even told his minister that he was too busy for anything but to make money.
But one morning a disagreeable stranger stepped very softly to his side, laying a cold, moist hand upon his brow, and said, “Go home with me." The merchant laid down his pen, his head grew dizzy, his stomach felt faint and sick, he left the counting house, went home, and retired to his bedchamber.
His unwelcome visitor followed him, and now took his place by the bedside, whispering, ever and anon, "You must go with me." A cold chill settled on the merchant's heart, dim specters of ships, notes, houses, and lands, flitted continually before his excited mind.
Still his pulse beat slower, his heart heaved heavily, thick films gathered over his eyes, his tongue refused to speak. Then the merchant knew that the name of his visitor was Death.
All other claimants on his attention, except the friends of Mammon, had always found a quick dismissal in the magic phrase, “I’m too busy." Humanity, mercy, the claims of God, had alike sought to win his attention in vain, but when death came, the excuse was powerless, he was compelled to have leisure to die.
Reader, beware how you make yourself too busy to secure life's great end, the knowledge of God, the salvation of your soul. When the excuse rises to your lips, and you are about to say you are too busy to seek after God, remember, you cannot be too busy to die.
“What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" A. T.