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ONE Sabbath evening, just before the hour for the closing religious service of the day, a group of young men had come together on a corner of the city streets. Their hearts were intent upon what they called “having a good time.” And as those passed by who regarded the Sabbath as a day of peace, of Christian works and worship, and who were on their way to the place of prayer, the question was heard proposed in that group, “Where are you going?” It was to decide in what place of amusement or dissipation the evening of the Sabbath should be spent, and those young men answered it in a manner to suit their purpose; but it is also a question full of interest to us all, and one which, if truly answered, will indicate our destiny for eternity.
We are all going, as fast as time can carry us, into the future,
to us unknown; but there are some for whom this inquiry
points with fearful significance toward that future. Dear
reader, how is it with you?
We will suppose you have never yet attended to the concerns of your soul; that you have cared for none of these things. How then shall this question be answered so as to meet your case? Where are you going? May eternal truth be impressed upon your heart as it never yet has been, while we answer for you as for one who must give account at last.
1. You are going to the grave. Have you ever seriously
thought of this? Man of business, while buried as you are
in the cares of this world,—while so eagerly striving for
gold,—have you ever stopped to reflect, “Though I am doing
my own will and seeking my own profit now, and putting far
from me thoughts of dying, yet there is a grave in my path,
But your acknowledgement that this is true is not a full answer
to our question. You admit that your body will soon be
in the grave; but will you rest there?
Where are you going
then?
2. You are going to the judgment. Open the word of God,
and in the light that beams from the sacred page into the future,
look upon that solemn scene. Imagine yourself there.
You are no uninterested spectator. You are the prisoner at
the bar. Look up and see upon the great white throne, Him
who was once crucified for you; who loved you with a boundless
love; who graciously invited you, urged you to come to
him and be forgiven and saved. Now, he is your judge. Oh,
how gladly you would see rocks and mountains falling upon
you to hide you from his face! But you must await your
sentence here.
Once you were in a world where pardon and peace were freely offered to you in the gospel. There you became familiar with the story of the cross, and while you saw others penitently going to Christ, confessing their sins and finding mercy, you turned away and hardened your heart.
You cannot say with truth, “While there was a possibility of my salvation, ‘no man cared for my soul.’” You were often warned of your danger. Many prayers were offered for you, and you were entreated to make your peace with God. All the efforts of those who loved your soul were unavailing. The Holy Spirit pleaded with your heart. You would not listen, and at length He was grieved away for ever.
Therefore do you stand here self-condemned. You are able
now to comprehend the awful meaning of the words which
once you read so thoughtlessly, and now you make personal
Listen to your sentence, already pronounced against you by
your own conscience—DEPART. But where, reader? What
shall be the end of this sad journey? for that has not yet been
reached. The sentence sends you further on. Where are you
going now?
3. From the very gate of heaven you are going away into despair. No more shall you hear the precious words of promise to the penitent. No more will Christ invite, or his faithful ministers warn, or Christians pray. You have at last reached your journey's end. You have found your own place, and in it you will spend eternity.
Reader, as you contemplate such an answer to the question
we have started, are you not constrained to cry out, with
thanks to God that you are yet in a world of probation; that
the truth of our answer has not yet been verified by your
bitter experience; that you, can pray, with the assurance that
the prayer of the broken and contrite heart shall be heard?
Are you not, constrained to cry for mercy to that Saviour whom
you have so long rejected; who has been knocking at the door
of your heart so long, and who is still waiting to be gracious?
Once more you are reminded, earnestly and affectionately, of
your duty, and warned of your danger. Once more you are
invited to come to the “Lamb of God which taketh away the
sin of the world,” and be relieved of the burden of your own
sin, and receive the peace which is not of this world. To every
soul there is a last time for for all such offers and invitations.
As you read, remember that this may be your last warning
which shall ever meet your eye. You are moving forward in
the path already indicated, the end of which is so appalling,
whether you are conscious of it or not.
Awake, then, from this fearful state, before it becomes a
sleep of death! No longer put off the care of your immortal
Then shall your answer to our inquiry be, “I am going forward in the path of duty as my Father shall reveal it while I live, humbly trusting in my Redeemer; and then I am going according to his promise, to enter upon the inheritance which he has purchased for me with his precious blood— an inheritance ‘incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.’”