CHAPTER XII.THINGS REMEMBERED IN THE STORM.
A fewthings were remembered in the storm, to which, when we have called the reader’s attention, our task is ended.The Biblewas read in the storm. Doubtless the passengers had with them many books to relieve the tedium of a long voyage, but good as these books might have been, it was not from these that they sought to derive instruction and comfort in the hour of peril. They opened their Bibles, many of them were seen in groups reading it together, or sitting by themselves turning over its pages, as if in search after some passage which had been forgotten, and the meaning of which was specially important then. They read the Bible during the most solemn hour of their existence, and when they knew that their moments were numbered, and whilst in the midst of a scene which its own pages have so magnificently described.
“They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in the great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to heaven, they go down again to the depths; their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits’ end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto their desired haven.”
That storm-tossed vessel, with her sinking passengers, has furnished no insignificant testimony to the preciousness of the Book which too many criticise as if it were the foe and not the friend of humanity. The picture of those passengers going down with their Bibles in their hands will be a sweeter one for the memory to treasure, than all the results of anatomical critics. And Oh surely! it will teach its lessons to those who are content to live in the neglect of, or in direct opposition to, the Book which in such an hour was appealed to, and not in vain.
Nor must it be forgotten that, on board the sinkingLondon, the passengers attached the greatest possible importance to prayer. They prayed for themselves, and they besought an interest in the intercessions of others. During those wasting days and nights of lingering suspense they continued in prayer: it was their only comfort, and they went down into the deep with the voice of supplication upon their lips. Does not this teach its own solemn lesson to the prayerless who may read these pages? Does it not tell of a value in prayer beyond all the arguments that may be used against it, or even in favour of it? Those brave men and women, praying bareheaded to the storm, and going down into the wild waves calmly trusting in God’s goodness still;—shall not this last touching act of theirs convey an appeal to the prayerless which there can be no resisting? Shall it not say in tones of entreaty that cannot be withstood, “Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call ye upon Him while he is near?” Close to your heart with its deepest needs there stands a throne of mercy from which every imaginable good can be obtained: turn to that throne, be you in lane, highway, or open street, when this commandment reaches you, and seek salvation in the name of Christ, and you shall not seek in vain.
Finally, on board the sinkingLondon, the greatest attention was paid to a preached gospel. A preacher is not unfrequently heard enforcing his appeals to the undecided by the solemn words, “I speak as a dying man to dying men.” In Mr. Draper’s case the words were literally true, and they had all the pathos and hold of last words that might at any moment be stopped by the overwhelming flood: and how the passengers listened! How important seemed every word then with either heaven or hell coming nearer and nearer with every inch of water rising in the engine-room!
Ah! could those on land, and out of the reach, as they think, of such a calamity as shipwreck, but feel, that slowly yet surely up to them is advancing the hour in which all earthly interests will be as nothing, and the concerns of the soul all important, how would they now value the privilege of a preached gospel, and every instrumentality by which they can learn more of themselves and of spiritual things! A little while, and the last hour of every one who reads these lines will have come, and will be felt to be the last. How wilt thou meet it, reader?
It has been said, that in that last hour, no matter how aged the dying one, the memory awakes to its keenest power, and there passes before the mind a vivid diorama of all life’s doings. Events and circumstances seemingly long buried, suddenly leap into life, and it well nigh startles one to listen to the remembrances that come and go through the fast-darkening chambers of the brain. Slowly dying on the pillow before us, lies one whose head is silent with age, and the grey dawn of an eternal morning is stealing over his features; but glancing brightly through the haze of death, there come to him visions of his long, long past; of the home of his childhood, of the bride of his youth, of the events of his riper ageand manhood, until in a single hour he seems to live all his life over again.
Oh! it will be sad to remember, in such an hour, a neglected Bible, a throne of grace despised, and a gospel of mercy refused. It will be sad to remember, that even such a calamity as the wreck of theLondonproduced no serious impression, and no turning of the head towards heaven. If the things which the sinking passengers remembered during the storm are remembered by you now,—if their deep importance is laid to heart by all whose feelings have been touched by the disaster,—then, terrible though it has been, it will not have occurred in vain. It will have come in mercy to those who, in circumstances of fancied security, are not prepared to die. To such the voice of the sinking minister crying, even from the drowning wave, “Prepare to meet your God,” will not have come in vain.
THE END.