The Shepherd's Fatal Sleep by S. THURSTON

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 14, 1906

The Shepherd's Fatal Sleep

By S. THURSTON

S. THURSTON

It was early morn in midspring, when nature seemed to be at its very height of glory, that I left my home, by private conveyance, to spend the day in a neighboring town. The first portion of my journey was amid orchards, olive groves and vineyards. Wheat and barley fields were already in head, with occasional pasture land which was covered with scores of different colored flowers, forming one massive carpet, fresh from the loom of nature.

The sun was yet hanging low in the eastern sky, as if loath to proceed on its way, wiping the sparkling dew from plant, leaf, and flower, and thus robbing the earth of its morning freshness. The sweet-voiced lark, joined by the piping mocker, was sounding its clear notes high above the charming chorus poured forth by the lesser birds. The surrounding mountains seemed to look down with satisfaction upon the beautiful vale, built and watered from their gorge-rifted sides.

While thus surrounded, we become almost forgetful that the dark pall of sin has been hanging over the earth nearly sixty centuries. As we turn our minds, however, to the distant battle-field, the sighing of the bereaved under the home roof, with the greater portion of earth reeking with crime and corruption, we are seized with wonderment that so many beauties still linger as a reminder of our long-lost Eden home.

The next few miles of my journey lay through immense cactus fields which skirted one portion of the valley through which the public road lay close beside the railroad. I had reached this portion of my journey when, to my surprise, I saw two sheep lying dead by the roadside. As I turned my eyes toward the railroad, I saw heaps of dead and mutilated sheep, with scores scattered about bruised and mangled. A little farther on I saw the shepherd wild with excitement, having just arrived upon the scene.

Upon inquiry I learned that he was the under shepherd, and that the chief shepherd was in another part of the valley with other sheep, having left this under shepherd in charge of this part of the flock, which at the setting of the sun the previous evening, he had led into close proximity to the unfenced railroad, and then spent the hours of the night in undisturbed sleep. His flock had become scattered and, being wholly unconscious of their danger, many of them had lain down upon the dangerous path of the locomotive, and when the midnight train came dashing along, it left its pathway strewn with death. I also learned that this flock was a valuable one, being prized at about five dollars a head.

In view of these facts, the under shepherd called wildly for the chief shepherd to come to his aid; but no response greeted his ear. Soon the “section-boss” came on his morning tour with no word of sympathy, but rather with the demand that the road be cleared at once. Then came a most terrible part for the shepherd to act, as he went with knife in hand, to finish his death work upon those innocent sheep maimed through his own neglect.

This awful work having been accomplished, I suggested that he ride with me to the nearest town where he could procure help to draw away and bury them in the lonely cactus field. He accepted my offer, and as we sped on our way, at thought of meeting the chief shepherd his anguish and tears seemed greatly to increase. Could he expect him to say, Well done, good and faithful shepherd? Or would he not rather say, Where are my sheep, my valuable sheep?

And when the lonely cactus field had been left behind, and our way was through orange groves in full bloom, making the air fragrant, nothing could charm him. Although the sun rays from the southern California skies had wiped the last sparkling dewdrop from leaf and flower, there was still to be seen upon the shepherd's cheek tear-drops of sorrow. Upon reaching the town we parted, and I saw no more of the shepherd, and on my return, no trace of death was visible along the locomotive's pathway.

O that the love of that shepherd might have been so entwined around that flock upon that fatal night that he might have been aroused to the welfare and safety of his charge at the sounding of the whistle of that onspeeding train as it approached the nearest station, though miles away! But no! the unfaithful shepherd sleeps on.

After witnessing the remorse of the unfaithful shepherd, and knowing the cause of his grief, a higher train of thought took possession of my mind, which led me to consider the world to be but one vast cactus field enshrouded in darkness, into which the human flock of God has been led. Throughout this vast field, running in every direction, are found a thousand conflicting man-made creed-paths, each claiming to be the right way, whereas there is but one right way. Our Redeemer passed that way before us, leaving us his example and word, and bequeathing unto us his Holy Spirit as our faithful guide. John 15:26; 16:13.

Into these thousand man-made creed-paths, God's human flock has been led and has lain down in carnal security; with unfaithful shepherds fast asleep while Satan is artfully running his many trains of sin with fearful results, destroying thousands upon thousands of God's human flock of infinite value, dearer to Christ, the Chief Shepherd, than his own life. Will there be a day when Christ will inquire of his under shepherds, “Where is the flock that was given thee, thy beautiful flock?” Jer. 13:20.

Will Christ, the Chief Shepherd, hold his under shepherds accountable? Will they say, as did guilty Cain, “Am I my brother's keeper?” Or will they, like the sleeping shepherd, have no excuse to offer? Will there surely be a judgment-day when the blood of souls, lost through our neglect, will be required at our hand?

Is there to be a judgment-day In the high court of God, When all must give a strict account, Who earthly shores have trod?

Quick from the throne the answer came, From lip o'er scepter rod, Yes, the ledger-book is almost full, “Prepare to meet thy God.”

A cry of woe has reached this court, From earthly blood-soaked sod, “Go, quickly go! and others tell, ‘Prepare to meet thy God.’”

And should you fail to others warn, Who dwell in sin-cursed land, Of thee I'll blood-bought souls require, Their blood of thee demand.

I seized my pen, Let altar fire In power o'er scepter rod, Touch lip, and pen,—I'll warning give: “Prepare to meet thy God.”

San Fernando, Cal.