ON that night of storm and tempest when the Tay Bridge fell, a railway surface man who lived near to the spot had a strange fear of coming calamity. The Sunday evening train had yet to cross, and would soon be due to start on what proved to be its last run. Just to see how things would go, the surface man clambered up into the signal-box, where he could hear the clicking of the telegraph instruments, and keep the signalman company, for each moment the storm raged with increasing fury. The train came duly into the station, the passengers took their seats as they had often done before, the whistle sounded, and she was out of sight in the darkness—crossing the great Tay Bridge, while the greatest tempest of many days was at the height of its fury. The signalman touched the handle of his instrument and signaled "Train on line" to the cabin on the other side of the raging flood. Then both men waited for the telegraphic signal that the train had covered the intervening "block" and had crossed the river in safety. The silence in that cabin was unbroken save for the howling of the storm without. The minutes dragged themselves slowly on. But the telegraph instrument uttered no sound. "Is the train not due yet on the other side?" said the surface man. "Yes," said his companion, "but we will give her a minute or two yet." There was silence again, until the stillness became oppressive. "Send a message," said the impatient watcher; "ask if she has reached the cabin at the other end of the bridge." The operator at once caught the handle of the telegraph instrument to send his message across; but the needle did not move. Under ordinary circumstances the needle would have clicked responsive to the touch, thus intimating that the current had flashed to the other shore and back again in the twinkling of an eye, but the needle was motionless. "Try another instrument," said his companion. He tried another, and another, but all were silent. There was NO MESSAGE FROM THE OTHER SIDE. The silent needle told to these two men in language more eloquent than words that an awful tragedy had taken place. They looked at each other in consternation, for in that awful moment they knew that the whole train with its living freight must be engulfed by the raging waters.
“No message from the other shore!" Often have these words reminded us that a Day is coming when those who have rejected the Christ of God shall want to send a message to "the other shore." Scripture tells us something about this. It tells us of those who shall "stand without," and knock, saying, "Lord, Lord, open unto us." But He from within shall answer saying, "I know you not whence ye are" (Luke 13: 25). Unsaved reader, whether you are concerned about your soul just now I know not; but of this I am certain—you will be concerned some day. You may not be in earnest now; but the day is coming when you shall be in earnest. But it will be too late then. You have had your chances. You have heard of Jesus, and His love untold, and His cleansing blood, and His power to save. Is it to be recorded of you that you rejected the entreaties of His love? You would not have Him as your almighty Savior. Therefore the day draws on apace when you must meet God, and meet Him in your sins! Then shall come to pass what is written in the Scriptures, "Then shall they call upon Me, but I will not answer; they shall seek Me early, but they shall not find Me" (Prov. 1:2828Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: (Proverbs 1:28)). Then shall you long for a message from the other shore—a message that shall never come, even unto the ages of Eternity!
The two men, feeling certain that the train had gone to its doom, descended from the signal station and crept on hands and knees along the bridge to see if haply they might discover some trace of the train. After proceeding some distance the metals seemed to have disappeared, and as they crept cautiously forward they saw nothing before them but yawning blackness. Far down beneath them poured the raging waters. They understood it all now. The center part of the bridge had been blown over into the river, carrying the whole train into the waters. Not a single soul survived to tell the tale of that awful night. As the bridge went over, every telegraph wire was snapped. No current could travel over these broken wires, and this explained how no message came back from the other shore.
It may be that you have friends on "the other shore." How terrible, then, must be your condition if you shall yet cry out for mercy when mercy's day is forever past, and find no answer but the eternal silence. Think upon it—to be separated forever from the blood-washed throng that surround the throne, and to find your eternal portion "where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.”
Are you prepared for this? Have you counted the cost? Have you weighed what it means to be a lost soul for all eternity? Arouse thee, O unsaved one, and believe the proclamation of God's redeeming love in the gift of His Son. Take your place before Him as a lost and hell-deserving sinner and receive the gift of God, which is eternal life in Jesus Christ the Lord. And the moment you are in Him you shall be in direct communication with "the other shore." Christ is the great Telegraph Wire between heaven and earth—a wire that cannot be broken by any accident of time—an everlasting bond that winds above and waves below can never move.
Are you willing to be saved now on God's terms? Then delay not. Procrastinate no longer. This very hour believe, and receive, and confess Him, for it is written, “If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation" (Rom. 10: 9, 10). W. S.