That day will come. Many of you will not welcome it, but it is near you―the great eclipse of death, shadowing the sun of earthly life; the slowly beating wings of the terrible angel of death hovering over you, and you cannot flee from it. The inexorable word goes forth that you must die, and you must die. If death could have been bribed, men would have given millions for a few years’ lease of life; monarchs would have given their kingdoms, and kings their crowns, but no—when the hour comes for you to go, you must go. You dread the journey to eternity; you have made no provision for it; you have no chart or compass to direct you, no friend to meet you, no home to go to. You are leaving all your friends behind you; your wife holds your hand, your children weep around you, all are in tears beside your dying bed. The clock is ticking out the seconds, telling loudly of eternity. The shadows rest upon the hushed room, and the firelight gleams upon the wall. You look around, your eyes rest on the faces of your loved ones, and on the familiar objects in the chamber. You think of the quiet house, of the rooms downstairs, of the life indoors and out of doors, of the coming in and the going out, and the daily living and the daily life.
How strange, and yet how terrible the thought that in a few hours you must say “good-bye” to it all. “O my wife!” you cry, “cannot I stay longer with you? Wreathe your arms, your dear arms, round my neck, and keep me here; I cannot leave you and the children, and go alone into the darkness that I dread.” Vain is your appeal! The earthly love you cling to now, and which, may be, has strewn your way with flowers, can only be yours to the end of life. Take your last look at the beloved face, print your last kiss on the faithful, loving lips; press the trembling hands for the last time, and then, amid a storm of sobs and tears, with the eyes growing dim with the coming darkness, and the ears growing deaf to all of earth, as you near eternity you must go alone out of this world into the world to come.
Oh! why did you live without Christ? Why did you die without Him? All your life He had been saying, “Come unto Me,” and now that you are “dead” without His love brightening your pathway, and “lost” because He has never found you, methinks I hear a solemn voice over your soulless body, “I would, but ye would not.”
Shall you die like that? Die in unavailing sorrow and regret; a Christless end to a Christless life!
You need not; you may be saved from such a death today. You may have the assurance now that Christ will never leave you nor forsake you.