IN the drawing room of a suburban villa, during the closing days of the year, several ladies were conversing. One of the company was a young girl, the niece of the owner of the residence. She was caressed and admired by her fond uncle and aunt, who had adopted her as a daughter. There was much to love and admire in her, and as she was well educated and refined, to human foresight, a bright future awaited the girl.
In the course of the conversation, one of the ladies spoke of a proposed gathering at the end of the year, to spend its closing hours in prayer, and asked the young girl if she would like to go.
To her the idea seemed absurd. To spend the last hour of the year in the dull company of Christians, and at a prayer meeting, was not in accordance with her idea of pleasure, so she at once decidedly refused, adding, “No, I will dance it out.”
Every whim and fancy in which she indulged was sure to meet with instant approbation from her relatives, so the “dance” was quickly decided upon.
The last day of the year came; its last hours had been looked forward to with such ardent expectation, and a time of much enjoyment had been anticipated by the fair young girl who had determined to dance the old year out. Preparations, notes of invitation, and the usual preliminaries had occupied her passing moments since the conversation mentioned.
The meeting for prayer commenced, and earnest supplications were poured forth. But I must ask you to turn with me to the mansion, where carriages are being driven up, and the company is being ushered in; while amidst the blaze and glitter the gay strains of music arise, as eager feet tread the giddy dance.
The hour of midnight draws nigh, when suddenly, and without previous warning, a deathly paleness steals over the face of the gay and thoughtless author of that evening’s enjoyment. A medical gentleman who is present, a relative, is hastily at her side; the sound of the evening’s pleasure ceases as she is carried from the ball room to her chamber. The doctor’s skill avails not. Before the last stroke of twelve has tolled, the young girl’s never dying soul has passed out of time into Eternity!
“Lovers of pleasure,” more than “lovers of God,” tell me— Where?
Prayerless, careless, pleasure seeker—Where?
Neglecters of so great salvation—Where? Rejecters of the grace of a Saviour God. —Where?
Reader, if death were to steal into your room tonight, would your soul be found in the “mansions of bliss,” or the “regions of woe?”
How did you spend the old year? Has God in grace said of your soul, “Spare it yet another year?” Does the opening dawn of this new year find you one of whom it can be said: “Behold he prayeth,” or does heaven look down upon a creature of ingratitude turning away from a Saviour’s love, sufferings, and death?
Must it be said of you— “Behold, ye despisers, wonder, and perish?”
Do you reply that, “Going to a prayer meeting is no proof that a person is saved?” I admit it, but tell me, is the deliberate choice of “pleasure” any indication that a man is “born again?” “Ye cannot serve God and mammon.”
The world in its charity may say, “Let us hope that she was saved at the last moment.” Would that it were so; but, as said one who watched the close of her brief life, “She was a good and amiable girl, but she was unprepared to die.”
Let this sudden death speak mightily to your inmost soul, and inquire, had you thus been called away, “Where would you spend Eternity?”
Do not evade the question; do not put it off. We will not ask if you commenced this year with “good vows,” “holy resolutions,” “purposes of amendment,” “promises of reform,” “turning over a new leaf,” but we ask, Are you prepared to meet God now at this very moment? Are you in Christ, or out of Christ? Are you saved or lost?
Reader, we plead with you; it may be we shall never plead with you at the beginning of another year, so we call upon you now, now to face the question, and will you venture another step without answering, “Where you will spend Eternity?” H. N.