I WAS STANDING on the dock to watch the departure of a ship. Her sailing time had come. Several hundred passengers were already aboard, and others were crowding hastily through the throng to get aboard. All was confusion. It seemed as if the ship was restless at the delay. The strong hawsers that bound her, fore and aft, ground on the posts.
Then the stern voice of the first mate was heard, “Passengers all aboard! — all others ashore!”
Just then a cab drove down to the dock and an old gentleman whose white hair spoke of many bygone years, got out and hastened toward the boat. The crowd made way for the venerable stranger, but in vain. The gangplank had been drawn up the fastenings were loosened, and the ship was on her way.
I shall never forget the expression of disappointment in the face of that old man as he turned away and ordered his baggage to be returned to the cab.
“One minute too late!”
How many thousands will be a little too late for salvation! They delay and postpone, until the ark of safety has shoved off for the last time. One mite then will be as fatal as an age of time.
ML-11/17/1963