Or, The Self-Destroyed.
FOR several days the sky had been threatening a storm, and vessels of all sizes had retreated into harbor in anticipation of what sailors call “foul weather.” Those anticipations proved correct, and as night closed in the wind rose to a hurricane, the waves lifted their storm-capped crests and fell in foam upon the beach, or leaped furiously over the sea-wall as if in mockery of man’s puny attempts to say to them, “Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.” No ship was in the offing, but the life-boat had been got into readiness in case of need, the coast-guard kept a sharp look-out through the murky night for any unfortunate vessel which might be driven landward, and a few spectators, muffled in their storm-cloaks, stood together on the shore.
Hour after hour passed away. The crew of the life-boat stood by their little craft, ready at a moment’s notice to launch her in the face of the tempest.
The old church clock of a neighboring seaport town struck twelve. As the last stroke of the bell mingled with the howling of the blast and the incessant thunder of the waves upon the strand, another and a different sound broke upon the ear. What was it? The boom of a heavy gun —the ominous and too well-known signal of some ship’s deep peril — a signal never made by British sailors till all other hope is gone — an appeal to fellow-men for aid, which tells that everything that experience, skill, and courage could effect has failed to save, and that, now, abandoned to winds and waves, the ship and her crew are hurrying to destruction, and MUST perish unless help from without, help outside, beyond, independent of themselves, can be brought to them by those who hear the sad appeal.
Has the reader yet discovered that this exactly depicts his condition by nature? That no efforts of his own, however well meant and carefully conducted, can deliver him out of the ruin he is in, or save him from that eternal destruction towards which time, with resistless force, is hurrying him? Oh solemn thought! Every hour, like a heavy wave against which no skill of yours can avail, is forcing you onward to the hidden shoal, the unseen moment when body and soul shall part asunder, and when, if still in your sins, you must make eternal shipwreck! “For it is appointed unto men once to die, and after this the judgment.”
Be intreated to consider your position. Was it for this you were born into the world and had a parent’s love and care and guidance? Was it for this you grew up to man’s or woman’s estate? To be ETERNALLY WRECKED AT LAST! God forbid that such an end should be yours. Consider all that it involves, and may God give you repentance unto life before it be too late. The decisive moment may be nearer than you think. Cease then at once your vain efforts at self-deliverance. Own to the ruin you are in, like the publican in the temple, who cried, “God be propitiated to me a sinner;” like his let your eye be on the PROPITIATION and nothing else, and you shall be justified. “For the grace of God, which carries with it salvation for all men, hath appeared;” why then should you be wrecked forever and ever The signal-gun, as if with electric force, started into activity the silent stationary groups upon the beach. Every hand was put forth to launch the life-boat, her gallant crew sprang in, and, with might and main, they struggled on through the driving surf towards the sinking ship. Again and again the heavy gun was heard in solemn cadence with the thundering storm, as though to hasten the bold deliverers in their dangerous task; and bravely they responded, as with desperate energy they drove their boat against the furious blast. Now on the crest of a mountainous wave,
“They mount up to the heaven;”
and anon in the watery abyss,
“They go down again to the depths;”
but at last their courage and prowess are rewarded, and they reach the wreck. A crowd of terror-stricken women and children, and worn, pale, hopeless men throng the deck. The ship is breaking fast, and wave after wave beats pitilessly against her groaning timbers. But despair turns to hope as the life-boat dashes up alongside, and all are about to rush towards her, when the captain, maddened by drink, suddenly places himself before them, and, in a voice of thunder, swears to shoot the first person who shall attempt to leave the ship!
Consternation seized on all who heard the threat, and for the moment none knew what to do. But no time was to be lost, and in the desperate emergency one on board, at the risk of his own life, approached the madman, and resolutely told him that if he dared discharge his revolver he should instantly be made a prisoner; and as this proved a momentary check upon him, no time was lost in getting the women and children off the doomed vessel. Not until the life-boat had made some three or four journeys from the ship to the shore was the final rescue of the crew and passengers effected. But the captain still remained. In vain did the brave deliverers urge him to escape. In vain they reasoned with and besought him, while the ship yet held together, to come into the lifeboat. In vain they pointed out the shattered condition of the wreck he was upon, while the rushing tempest threatened every moment to engulph both it and him. He would not listen; but, madly pointing his revolver at them, swore with terrible oaths to shoot the first man who approached him. Four times in succession these devoted men returned to attempt his rescue, but in vain. He would not be saved!
Reader, are you like him? “As though God did beseech by us, we pray in Christ’s stead, be reconciled to God.” The LIFE-BOAT is at hand. “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” Life through his death may be yours, even now, if you do but believe in his name. His blood cleanseth from ALL sin. He says, “Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Why should you perish?
The crew of the life-boat, exhausted by their incessant labors, were at last forbidden by their commanding officer to make any further effort to save the wretched man; but rockets, with ropes attached, were sent off to the ship, in the faint hope that when the peril grew nearer he would repent of his mad resolve. Twice with his own hand he cut the line that formed the only link between himself and life and safety; and while the wondering spectators on shore yet watched in mingled awe and pity, a larger wave than usual seemed to strike the wreck. A moment more, and the dark object that had so intensely attracted every eye suddenly fell to pieces. At the same instant a loud, piercing, and most bitter cry of unutterable agony and horror rose above the roar of the storm from the frenzied lips of the doomed man; and the SELF-DESTROYED sank headlong into the dark abyss of waters.
Too late he saw the fearful consequences of his madness as the shattered vessel fell away death his feet. Too late! He had flung away body and soul; and could he have had his will he would not have been alone in the destruction he brought upon himself.
It is seldom that such an instance as the above comes under our notice; but if the reader is yet out of Christ, if he is yet in the shattered wreck of the old Adam nature and standing, his peril is as great, though it may not be so apparent, as was that of the poor drunken captain of the foundered vessel. And if, after having heard the Gospel of the grace of God again and again, salvation brought nigh time after time, you are still a rejector, your folly is as extreme, and your doom as certain. Persist not in your mad rejection of the only Lifeboat till too late! Who shall tell what the lost spirit feels as it parts from the body on the death bed, when too late all the horrors of its real situation rush like a torrent upon it? No cry is heard, but in voiceless agony more terrible far than the frenzied wail of the doomed captain, it hurries where “their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.” Who shall depict, or even conceive the horror of its situation? Is there no hope there? None forever and ever.
Reader, can you continue a REJECTOR OF CITRIST, to be hereafter, and forever, numbered among the SELF-DESTROYED?