Your ShelfYour Projects

Only a Night From the Old to the New

5%

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jan 21, 1915

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 92, No. 4.

Read the full edition

Only a Night From the Old to the New

By ELLA KING SANDERS

ELLA KING SANDERS
Who has not felt the inspiration of possessing something new? Think of the beam of gladness on the face of the child with something new, no matter how small the value.
By familiarity things lose their newness. But there are many familiar things which would put on new beauty if we would study them and open our eyes to see. The stately trees about us, the grass beneath our feet, in fact all nature, is robed in wonder and beauty, ever ready to reveal something new to the searching eye.
Then there is the day that comes fresh and new after the night. It is only a night from the old day to the new one. Familiarity has closed our eyes to its freshness, with its new mercies, joys, and responsibilities. The blots on yesterday's page are left behind, and before us is placed a new page, clean and spotless. With the weeping prophet, we should realize that God's mercies are new every morning. See Lam. 3:23.
As we greet the new day with our waking thoughts, should there not ascend to God thanksgiving for his mercies and blessings, and should we not seek his face for grace and strength to keep the new page in life's history free from blots? One writer puts this thought in this way: “Never see the face of man in the morning till you have seen the face of the King of the universe.”
But it is only a night from the old year to the new one. Nineteen hundred and fourteen, with its record of toil, sorrow, heartaches, and perplexities, its joys and happiness, is closed and securely locked. We cannot change it. This is the way the poet puts this fact:—
“The past,—shadowed past,—let it rest ’neath its pall; Let it go, its sealed chambers have naught to recall. All its treasures, its joys, are borne far from our reach. By a tide ne’er returning to earth’s storm-shattered beach.
“Let it go, let it go; let it bear far away Its record of sorrow our hands could not stay, Its record of error our faltering feet made, Its record of heartaches ’neath passion’s dark shade.
“Let it go, let it go; there is naught we can do To retrieve its sad work; but in future be true. In future? That time is not sure; nay, nay, The present is all that is ours—just today.
“Just today—O my heart, dost thou value aright The gem that will pass from thy keeping tonight? Just today—’tis a treasure so pure and so fair Thou wilt mar it and soil it despite all thy care.
“Just today we may touch; then care let us take, By help from our God, that these touches we make May send forth sweet echoes of truth, grace, and love, To roll through the future and meet us above.
“So the past, let it go. Thou hast sought the dear Lord For pardon, and now wilt thou doubt his pledged word? The heart that is contrite he ne’er will despise, Though vile and polluted in anguish it lies.
“Then, O, let it go! Thou canst never make straight The tangles so wretched. Then why sadly wait, And let the swift days bear an echo of woe, While you mourn and lament what you ne’er can undo?
“O, when shall we learn it, this lesson so hard, To leave all the past in the hands of our Lord? He only can cleanse it. Then cease all thy care, And living today for tomorrow prepare.”
The year 1915 is opened. We greet one another with “A Happy New Year;” but with hearts of sympathy, how can we embrace much of what the world calls happiness, when the groans of the wounded and dying, the moans of the widows and orphans, and the wails of earth’s downtrodden and suffering, are coming to our ears? As soldiers enlisted under the banner of Prince Immanuel, we are to look up to a higher happiness—to the joy of rescuing souls from the eternal destruction of all things earthly.
Why are we spared to enter this new year? With the brittle thread of life thus lengthened, what new responsibilities come to us? Shall we take this new year as a rose plucked from the garden of time, and seek to diffuse its sweetness of hope, love, and helpful sympathy? There are aching hearts to soothe, there are mourning ones to comfort, there are tearful eyes to dry, there is suffering to allay; but greatest of all, there is a lost world to warn of its coming doom.
What shall we do with this new year as it comes only a night from the old day to the new one? Shall we be driven to service by the thought that this may be our last chance, that probation may close, and we must be found working? Be not forced to service by fear, for forced service is but slavery. It is the willing servant, the one prompted by love, that will hear the “Well done” at last. Supreme love to God and love for your neighbor as for self is the mainspring of obedience. It is this love that leads the true servant to be faithful in the King’s business.
The failures of the year just closed should serve as stepping-stones to a higher life this new year. Speak that kind word, lend that helping hand, write that letter, hand out that tract or paper, visit that suffering one, and follow the example of Job: “The cause which I knew not I searched out.” Job 29:16.
It is only a night from the old day to the new, and so it will be when it comes to the last night of this dark earth’s history and the dawn of the eternal new day. Let us for a moment roll back the curtain of futurity and stand at that eve. Today mortal—only a night, and then immortal; today clothed in earthly garments—only a night, and then clad in garments of light; today weeping eyes—only a night, and then all tears forever wiped away; today all faces pale—only a night, and every form is bathed with youth and immortal beauty; today here—only a night, and then that tireless journey to the eternal city whose gates will swing open and our Commander will say, “Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” Let us spend each new day now as we shall wish we had when that eventful hour arrives.
Indianapolis, Ind.