p. 184 | Too Late by Nellie F. Heald

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 21, 1872

Too Late.

By Nellie F. Heald

How sadly are these words oft times repeated, when some precious opportunity is passed unimproved. It may be a good word we ought to have spoken, a word of consolation to the afflicted, of good cheer to the depressed and down-hearted, of kindness and sympathy to the poor and needy, of counsel to the erring. It may be a very little thing, a smile, even, a look of encouragement, yet it is withheld till the precious moment passes, and we sadly repeat, Too late.

In the social meeting for prayer and praise, we may have a word to speak for Jesus; for if we love him we shall delight to speak of him. Do we not love to speak of our earthly friends, who are dear to us? And shall we not delight far more to speak of Him who is the Friend above all others? whose love surpasses all other love? There can be no theme more sweet, none more exalted, than the wondrous works of God. Yet we sometimes remain silent from distrust of our own ability. We wait and hesitate till the time passes, and it is too late.

There are deeds of love and usefulness that every child of God should perform after the example of Him who went about doing good; but failing to be watchful, we neglect the golden opportunity, and, oh! how sadly come home to our hearts the words, Too late. In the sadness of these reflections comes the inexpressibly sad and solemn question, Shall I be too late for Heaven? too late to secure an entrance through the beautiful gates of pearl into the city of God, to see the King in his beauty, and receive from his hand the priceless gift of eternal life? Shall the peerless crown of life be lost forever because the earnest, persevering effort was not made in season?

Oh! awake thou that sleepest, shake off the dreamy spell that Satan throws around thee, and bend thy powers to win the race with high and prayerful soul. Now is the accepted time. Sweet mercy lingers, not willing that any should perish. But the moments of probation are swiftly passing, and we know not how soon it will be too late to lay hold on eternal life.

“Like coursers fleet the winged moments fly, Like rushing winds the days and weeks pass by.”

NELLIE F. HEALD. Temple, N. H.