IT is strange that some men are utterly' careless. They are anxious to make their mark in this world, but care nothing about the next.
They know how to make money, but count the treasures of heaven as not worth a thought.
We have net men eminent in this world's wisdom, who were as dark as midnight as to the future; they could not tell, should they die, whether they would reach heaven's eternal shore or go down to the woe of hell.
We would ask the question: "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Mark 8:36-37.)
But can you speak with certainty on this point? If the cold hand of death were laid upon you to-night, where would you go? Do, not say, I hope it would be all right, for, in a matter of such tremendous importance, you ought not to be satisfied with merely "I hope" you ought to have certainty.
See that poor criminal under sentence of death: it is the eve of the execution. He is hoping against hope that a pardon will be given him. Go and talk to him about politics, is he interested? He cares not whether trade is good or bad, or how the war ended. He has no interest in the latest cricket or football match. He is thinking of the hoped-for pardon. Has that been procured for him?— and an answer in the affirmative is the only word that will bring the flush of joy to his pale cheek.
If you have not yet been pardoned through the blood of Jesus, you are the criminal—"condemned already"—and you are being borne along swiftly into eternity, where You will be awakened to the terrible fact that there is no room in heaven for the unforgiven sinner. How can you be occupied with this world's trifles, and be heedless of this dark outlook?
But you say, I don't mean to be lost. Then you had better decide at once for Christ. One day's delay may mean hell forever. Oh! let not this world's gold, tinsel or pleasure rob you of eternal joys. The novel, the theater, the gambling table will give no solace in hell. Short is mercy's day. Hesitate no longer. For the sake of your precious soul, "Flee from the wrath to come.”
J. T. M.