THE solemn incident which I am about to relate is a striking comment upon the words of Scripture which form the title of this little paper. My reader will remember that I simply tell what happened before my eyes; there is no need to try to heighten by any exaggerated language the awful reality of a scene which can never pass from my memory.
In the year 1874 I was on a voyage, with some friends, from New York to Jamaica. One evening, after our late dinner, we were talking over an eloquent preacher whom we had heard the Sunday before we left the city. It was a remarkable sermon; the preacher plainly set before us “Jesus Christ, and Him crucified,” and spoke in earnest words of entreaty to any of his congregation who might still be neglecting God’s gracious offer of salvation through the atoning death of His Son, urging them to accept God’s mercy without delay. “God’s time is now,” he said― “His word is, ‘Now is the accepted time: now is the day of salvation,’”―and he closed his solemn appeal by relating some facts from life to show the danger of making light of God’s call―that call which is so full of mercy and entreaty, but which, if disregarded in time, may be remembered, when too late, throughout a lost eternity.
Our conversation, which had become very serious, as one and another recalled the words so lately heard, was suddenly broken in upon by one of the party, a young man, about twenty-two years of age, a pleasant, amiable fellow, of good birth and education, and the picture of health and strength.
“I mean to enjoy my life,” he said. “Time enough when I am an old man to think about God and heaven.” “Yes,” he went on, as if seeking to entrench himself in his resolution, “I have heard and read that there is forgiveness even at the eleventh hour, so I am sure to have time enough on my deathbed to think about salvation. You fellows are always airing your Christianity; you want people to think you are the only saints!” and, without waiting for a reply, he left the saloon.
How true it is that “we know not what a day may bring forth”; how necessary the warning, so often unheeded, “Boast not thyself of tomorrow”! Little did that poor young man, as he turned on his heel with those boastful, confident words about the “life” which he meant to “enjoy,” think that in one moment the slender tenure by which he held that life would fail; that for him there was to be no “death-bed,” with its delusive promise―no time “at the eleventh hour” to “think of God and of heaven”―for, quick as the lightning’s flash, time would for him be lost in eternity.
It was about two o’clock the next day, and we had just finished lunch, when word was brought that the sailors were busy moving an anchor from the fore-hatch to the forecastle. Any sight is welcome to break the monotony of life at sea, and we all turned out to see the anchor set in its place. The heavy mass was hanging on the foreyard, just over the passage along which we all had to pass in single file on our way to the forecastle. The first passed―then another―but as the third followed, with no thought of danger, the sling by which the anchor was held gave way; the crushing weight of metal dropped upon his head, and he was killed in an instant!
The story is easily told, but who shall measure the horror of it? Those on board shuddered and grew pale as they spoke of the terrible “accident” which had happened, and of the young life, so fair in its promise, which had been so suddenly cut short. But to some of us who remembered the conversation in the saloon the night before, the event of this afternoon was terrible indeed.
My reader, do you wonder that I almost shrink from relating this dreadful story?―the young man, in one second of time, full of life, and vigor, and careless gaiety, in the next a crushed and helpless heap, motionless, breathless, dead, was he who but eighteen hours before had counted upon old age, and was sure he should have time enough on his death-bed to think of salvation.
About an hour from the time of his sad end, the poor mangled body was “committed to the deep,” amid sobs and weeping. The effect upon all who were present at that melancholy scene was indescribable. God grant that to many it may have whispered, with accents of solemn authority, the words, “Now is the accepted time: now is the day of salvation.” It has often been remarked that God’s word holds out no promise of salvation for “tomorrow”―no guarantee that there shall be for any of us a tomorrow in this world of death and change. What a mercy it is that His time is always now—that the word of Christ is ever, “Come.” “Come unto Me,” and “Him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise cast out.” F.