IT was on the 30th of January that the smart and well-built sloop "Columbine” put to sea on her passage from Grutness to Lerwick. Besides the skipper and the crew of two there sailed in her one passenger, Elizabeth Mouat, an infirm and elderly woman. A strong but favorable breeze augured well for a speedy arrival at their destination, guided by the well-tried skill and long-earned experience of the skipper. But God has written, “Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth;" and never was a more forcible illustration of the truth of those solemn words than in the present instance. The anchor was scarcely weighed when, with a sudden swing of the boom, the skipper and one of the crew were carried overboard. The latter, clinging to a rope, swung himself back on board the sloop, but the skipper dropped helplessly into the sea, and never breathed again. To lower the boat and pull to the spot—now left behind—was the work of but few moments, and their promptitude in doing so reflects credit on the two men, particularly on the one who had himself just escaped so narrowly a watery grave. But death had claimed its prey; the sea had swallowed up its victim's body, till that day when Divine authority shall command, and Divine power shall enforce, its surrender.
After a careful but fruitless search the two men bethought themselves of returning to the sloop, when, to their horror, they discovered that she was drifting rapidly away, and had already left them far, far behind. Every muscle was strained, every effort made, to overtake her, but in vain; and with heavy hearts and weary hands they were compelled to pull for the shore, which after much difficulty and danger they reached.
But now, reader, picture to yourself the situation of the solitary passenger. Imperfectly understanding how the sudden and awful change had occurred (for she was in the cabin), she found herself adrift on the wide and stormy sea; untaught and powerless to navigate the vessel herself, and bereft of crew and pilot, at the mercy of tides, and winds, and waves. Thus it was that the sun set, and the darkness of a wild January night enveloped her helplessness, and cut off all hopes of human aid; for when daylight returned she was far, far, beyond the reach of human eye. One after another, too, the few resources remaining at her disposal were being taken from her. The ladder, her only means of access to the deck, where at any rate she might watch for any passing vessel, was thrown down by the violent rolling of the sloop, thus making her a prisoner in the narrow cheerless cabin. She needs warmth,—what has she to supply it? A box of matches, one of which she burns at intervals that its momentary flame may relieve her benumbed fingers! She needs light during those long nights, but how soon the little stock of oil is done, and the last flicker leaves her in ray-less gloom! She needs food,—but two biscuits and a quart of milk are her entire provisions, and they, too, are soon exhausted, and she is left to starve! She needs water,—where can she obtain it? A few stray drops are trickling down the skylight panes, and with these she moistens her parched lips; but, alas! the drops are salt, and only aggravate her thirst. And thus the weary days and wearier nights roll slowly on, each like an age in length, and each successively bringing fresh suffering and taking away another resource; till, early on the ninth day, the crisis of all is reached, for shock succeeds shock as the vessel strikes one rock after another in her floundering career, till at length the raging surf flings her on the rugged shore. Her mast, with the shreds of the now tattered sails still clinging to it, goes overboard with a terrific crash, and the water begins to rise in hold and cabin.
But now it is,—now that every resource is gone, now that the extremity is come,—now it is that God finds His opportunity to step in with a deliverance truly His own; for, guided amid a labyrinth of rocks and shoals only by His winds and His waves, the vessel has reached the only spot on the coast of a Norwegian island where a landing could be effected; and just as she reaches it some youths are providentially led to stroll in that direction, and seeing the vessel's position, go off for the more efficient help of the men of a neighboring hamlet; and a brave man, at imminent peril to his own life, succeeds in carrying a rope on board through the boiling surf; and by this precarious means bridging the space between the vessel and the shore, conveys the half-dead woman safe to land, where the spontaneous kindness and hospitality of the islanders are speedily rewarded by her recovery from her critical condition. Truly, as the Psalmist says, “They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths; their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are AT THEIR WIT'S END. THEN they cry unto THE LORD in their trouble, and HE bringeth them out of their distresses.”
But, dear reader, there is another yet deeper and direr human "extremity," that affords a yet more glorious divine "opportunity." It is that of which we read in Rom. 5:6-8, “When we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly." Forty centuries, from creation to the cross, had been spent in testing man's "strength,"—his capacity to work out a righteousness of his own for God. Every successive test had demonstrated afresh his inability to do so. Tried in innocence, he had fallen; tried without law, he was lawless; tried under law, he transgressed it. Prophet after prophet was rejected, till last of all God said, "I have yet one Son, my well-beloved; perhaps they will reverence my Son." But when they saw Him, they said among themselves, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and seize on his inheritance.”
So they cast Him out and slew Him. That, dear reader, was man's “extremity;—the cross, the scorn, the spitting, the murder of God's Son, were the open exhibition of what man's heart was toward God.
Would God seek, would He accept, fruits produced by the rejectors of His Son? Never, even if there were any. All pretension to human righteousness was closed at the cross; it is eighteen centuries too late to pretend to it. "Now," said Christ on the eve of His crucifixion, “Now is the judgment of this world." The world sealed its own doom in rejecting the Son of God.
But if the cross was indeed "man's extremity,” then it was that God, instead of sweeping the scene with well-deserved judgment, found His "due time,”
His one grand "opportunity," for the display of Himself in all the depths of His love, by Jesus, for
“The very spear that pierced His side,
Drew forth the blood to save.”
There did God make Him who knew no sin to be sin for us; there did He visit on Him His holy judgment of sin; there did He forsake that One whose meat and whose drink had been to do His Father's will and to finish His work; there all the waves and billows of God's wrath rolled over Him, while deep answered unto deep at the noise of His waterspouts; there, dear reader, at that awful crisis, was the holiness of God fully vindicated, in order that He might be free, without denying His holiness, to dispense to the vilest that boundless love which He had displayed in thus giving His Son. Thus it was that where man came to his moral end, God came out in all His moral glory for the salvation and blessing of the lost.
But, reader, have you applied to yourself individually, what is true of man in general historically?
Have you reached your "extremity," your moral end, in the presence of God? For be assured, till you do, God's "opportunity" to pronounce your forgiveness has not come. We read in Luke 7 of a creditor who had two debtors. When did he forgive them? Was it when they could pay the whole, or even part of their debts? No; it was not till "they had /nothing to pay;" as in Rom. 5, “when we were without strength.”
Again, when was the leper pronounced clean? (Lev. 13) Was it when he was only a little leprous? No, but if “the leprosy cover all the skin of him that hath the plague, from his head even to his foot, wheresoever the priest looketh,... he shall pronounce him clean that hath the plague.”
Perhaps you say, “I know I am a sinner, but I am doing the best I can." Then you still set up to have some strength,-still have something to pay with; you are not yet "leprous all over," and therefore not yet a recipient of God's free grace. Now it was not their debts merely, but it was their having “nothing to pay," that made them fitting objects of forgiving grace. The man that says,” Christ has done His part, but I must do mine, else I shall not be saved," has not reached his" extremity” yet.
No, reader, if you are justified before God at all, it can only be "freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus;" " not of works, lest any man should boast." Our only part has been sin. But the finished work of Christ perfectly and alone meets that, and leaves us nothing to do for salvation, but simply to accept it by faith in Him.
Now, dear unsaved reader, what prevents your thus accepting God's salvation? Is it because you think you have something to do? You could not do it if you had to. What is it but pride that disdains free grace, and would seek to add some doings of our own to the work of Christ? As one once frankly admitted: “I am too proud to receive mercy, even at the hands of God." But it is not till we "cast our deadly doings down," and take our true place as sinners helplessly and hopelessly lost, not till we thus own our extremity, that God finds His opportunity to pronounce our free pardon through Christ's precious blood. Now, let me beseech my unsaved reader to honestly face the truth of his, or her, condition before a holy God.
You are lost by nature. Do you dispute it? Well, then, have you been found,—saved? If not found, is it not clear you are still lost? And what about practice? God declares, “There is no difference; for all have sinned.” Are you" trying to keep the law?" Then you are under the curse (Gal. 3:10).
And clearly you have not believed in Christ, or you would be already saved: you are, therefore, “condemned already” (John 3:18).
Reader, what an awful condition to be in! Lost by nature, guilty by practice, cursed by a broken law, and condemned by unbelief! Is not the thought enough to bring you, like the Psalmist's mariners, to your "WIT'S END"? May it indeed have that very effect; for it is just then that deliverance comes. “Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses." May you indeed be brought to the end of your resources, that you may become a recipient of God's free salvation through Him who, not only at the risk of death (like the brave Norwegian), but at the inestimable cost of Calvary's cross, has stepped in to bridge the gulf between you and God, and to convey you in all the tenderness, yet might, of His unchanging love, safe home
“To Heaven's eternal shore.”
But it may be this little book has fallen into the hands of one who is indifferent to the question of his salvation,—one who has health and prosperity, and who supposes there is plenty of time to spare yet. He will still enjoy the pleasures of sin, and then at "a more convenient season" he will “turn over a new leaf." Reader, beware lest thy next “turn "be" into hell” (Psa. 9:17.) Death defeats all calculations, as the "Columbine" incident so solemnly reminds us. The feeble old woman was preserved through a hundred perils and sufferings, while one swing of the boom in a moment swept away the strong man in life's prime. Reader, had it been you, what of your immortal soul? Quite true, the last minute would be time enough to be saved; but can you tell that this is not your last minute, as you read this very line? Now, my friend, now is the only moment you can be sure of; and “Now is the accepted time; now is the clay of salvation." “Come now." “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”
W. H. K.