Two men set out to reach a new mining camp, hoping to reach their destination before winter with its heavy snows set in. One bright November morning they started on what they hoped was the last stage of the journey. A flurry of snow during the preceding night had almost obliterated the faint track made by the former travelers, but they confidently set forward, believing themselves quite capable of keeping the right direction.
As the day wore on, the woods through which they journeyed grew more dense, until they could not see the sun, which hitherto had been their guide. Still they pressed on, in what they believed to be a western course, choosing the places where the underbrush was crushed, as evidence that others had been that way before.
What was their astonishment later on, to find out that they were apparently not alone in their journey, for there were before them the fresh tracks in the snow of at least two. Reassured by this they hurried on, hoping to overtake them, and were amazed, still later, to find that others had joined the travelers.
This they looked upon as a sure token that they were on the right way, and that the camp was near, and were about to start again, when they were surprised by the appearance of an Indian—who proved to be the mail carrier for the district—standing by the side of a sturdy oak but a few feet from them. So absorbed had they been in examining the tracks in the snow, they had not noticed him before, and involuntarily their hands went to their firearms.
Without, however, moving from his position, the Indian grunted out in broken English:
"White Man, Lost".
This they were ready to indignantly deny, but the Indian, pointing to the track, replied, "White man, lost, he go 'round and 'round.”
Sure enough, they were treading what has been termed "the death track", and that explained the added footprints—they were their own; for they had been walking in a circle. To continue thus meant death, and so, realizing their helplessness, they were glad to accept the proffered leadership of their Indian friend, who safely conducted them to their camp.
It is not difficult to perceive the danger these men were in-an unknown country, a trackless wild, without a guide, and treading the hopeless round of the "death track." But is my reader aware that we are travelers—travelers to eternity, travelers to a meeting with God!
Have you thought of it? Many have, who, being desirous of going to Heaven, but not taking their directions from the infallible Guidebook, the Bible, are also going, each one in their own way. But what saith the Scriptures? "There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end there of are the ways of death". Prov. 16:2525There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death. (Proverbs 16:25). They are treading, alas, The Death Track.
They "say their prayers," they "go to church," and "do the best they can," they help to "support the Gospel" at home and abroad, and in all this, and in perhaps much more, they seek to "prove faithful," and their hope is, they are on the straight road to Heaven. But as year after year passes, they are still in the same condition, plodding away and hoping for the best, but never sure. They are going in a circle, and if their eyes were but opened to it, they would find they were lost. They need a deliverer. And, blessed be God, He has provided One, the Lord Jesus Christ.