A SHIP once foundered on a rocky coast, and was broken up by the force of the waves.
One of the passengers was thrown into the sea. He succeeded in laying hold of a plank of the ship, and clung to it desperately. He was now thrown hither and thither at the mercy of the waves; now above, then below the water. As he was on the point of drowning, suddenly he cried out loud; “Mother, I did take the currants. Yes, I did it.”
At that very moment he was fished out of the sea by a life boat that had gone out to the wreck, and brought to land. When he had recovered himself a little he was asked what was the meaning of his drowning cry. Discovered, he remained silent a little, but finally replied:
“You were surprised at my cry, and I also am surprised no less. In my youth, I once stole my mother’s currants, and denied it afterwards. I never once thought of the matter all my life since. But just at the moment when my strength was leaving me, and I could think of nothing else, but that I was going to die, there stood my mother before me with serious looks asking me about that incident. Hence my cry.”
That is a little example of the memory of man, as well as the language of conscience. That man was afraid when in the face of death, his conscience reminded him of theft in his youth.
But what would it be, to see his whole life with all its black spots in the light of Eternity, and stand before the judgment seat of Christ when each one receives according to what he has done.
“Son, remember,” said Abraham to the rich man, who was in torment, and asked for a drop of water to cool his tongue. Remember, remember! Oh what a fearful remembrance there, in the place of suffering where there is no more hope, where no ray of light penetrates the thick darkness—a remembrance of the goodness that man enjoyed here, of the many proofs of the kindness of God received, of the many opportunities given to escape the coming wrath, of all the evil done, all the unthankfulness and indifference to the love of God on this earth. But forever and ever too late! No coming back possible, the day of grace forever gone. A worm that never dies, a fire that is never quenched, is the endless portion of all the lost! Oh, my dear reader, remember, remember!
ML 03/24/1912