A Step Between Me and Death
By E. Calkins
Bro. E. Calkins, Iowa, writes: I am still trying to make my calling and election sure, and I hope by the grace of God to come off conqueror through him that hath loved us. I am now seventy-three years old, yet I have good health. If it pleased God always to remove the sick, and to leave those who are in health, to smite the aged, and to preserve those who are young, we should be in less doubt about who would next be called. But this is not the case.—The strong man is cut down in an instant like a blade of grass by the mower's scythe. The child, yea, the babe at its mother's breast, is taken like a flower nipped by frost. We cannot tell, then, whose turn is approaching. Who is the next? is a fit inquiry for us all. Is it not a little strange that we should think so much of things which are uncertain, and that we think so little of those things which are certain; that we should prepare for what may never happen, and make no preparation at all for what must happen. The warning words of the Holy Scriptures should tingle in every careless ear, for they will apply to us all, “As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but a step between me and death.” In a short time it may be said to every one that fears not God, “Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee.” There are thousands who have been in bondage all their lives through fear of death. This is a sad state to be in; and yet there is no cure for it but a lively faith in the merits and sacrifice of our blessed Redeemer. If God be against us we have nothing to hope. If he be our friend we have nothing to fear. What a mercy then instead of trembling at the thought of death, to rejoice in the hope set before us, and to be able to say, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, “I will fear no evil; for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Let us seek the Saviour with all our heart and all our soul. Through him we may be more than conquerors over sin, death, and the grave, and be able to shout at last, O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?