By the late BISHOP KYLE.
IT SHALL never forget the effect produced upon my I own mind when I read some years ago of that fearful shipwreck, the loss of the Central America—that great steamer, that was lost on the voyage from Havannah to New York. Do you remember what happened then? That steamer was bringing home from California three or four hundred gold-diggers. They had all “made their pile,” as they said. They had all got their gold, and were coming back, proposing to spend their latter days in ease in their own country. But man proposes and God disposes.
About four-and-twenty hours after the Central America left Havannah, a mighty storm arose. Three or four waves struck the ship. She broke her engines. She sprung a leak, and fell off into the trough of the sea.
And after a while, when they had pumped and baled, and baled and pumped, and no good was done, it appeared perfectly plain that the Central America, with her three or four hundred passengers and all her crew, was like to go down into the deep, deep sea, and carry all on board with her. They launched the only boats they bad. They placed the women on board—all honor be to them for their kind feeling to the weak and defenseless at a time like that! The boats put off from the vessel, but there were left behind two or three hundred people, most of them gold-diggers, when the Central America went down. One who left the ship in one of the boats that took the women, described what he saw with his own eyes in the great cabin of that steamer, when all hope was over, and the great ship was about to go down. Men took out their gold. One man said, holding his leather bag, containing his long-toiled-for accumulation, “Here; take it who will; take it who will. It is no more use to me; the ship is going down. Take it who will.” Others took out their gold-dust, and scattered it broadcast over the cabin. “There,” they said, “take it; take it who will; we are all going down; there is no more chance for us: the gold will do us no good.” Oh, what a comment that is on the truly valueless nature of riches, when a man draws near to God; “Riches profit not in the day of wrath, but righteousness delivereth from death.” Think of your folly, my beloved hearers, think of your folly as well as your danger, your folly as well as your guilt, if you will cleave to your sins. Think of your folly, if you will not hear the warning that I give you this night. In my Master’s name, I say to you once more, “Except thou repentest” —thou, even thou who hast come here tonight— “thou shalt likewise perish.”