THE DEVIL'S IRON WEDGE by Dudley Marvin Canright

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 20, 1879

THE DEVIL'S IRON WEDGE.

By Dudley Marvin Canright

[Republished by request.]

Satan is no fool; he is a good mechanic. Long experience has taught him just what kind of tools to use. A small, sharp, iron wedge is a great favorite with him.

Probably most of our readers know how to split rails. It is a trade, like anything else. An experienced man can split the toughest log, one which the green hand would pronounce a hard case, impossible to split. I have split a great many rails in Western New York. Let me describe the process. Here lies a white oak log, ten feet long, two feet through, gnarled, winding, and tough. It looks like a hopeless job to lay that out into rails; nevertheless it can be done. The old log lies there, and laughs in your face, and says, “Touch me if you dare; take the rails out of here if you can.” And the rails say, “See how united we are, see how we stick together, see how we love each other. Divide us? no, never. We are not at all afraid of that.” But the old rail-splitter walks around it, looks it all over, and deliberately lays his plans, and goes at it.

Reader, how do you suppose he commences? Does he begin with a large, clumsy, wooden wedge, trying to drive that in first? He might try forever without success. There lies an iron wedge; he takes that up. How does he use it? Does he commence by trying to drive it in the largest end first? Oh! no; he would not succeed very well that way. No, sir; the first thing he does is to take his little, light, sharp-edged ax, and strike a few blows marking out where he wants the log to split. The ax does not penetrate an inch deep, and bounds out quickly; and the old log sneers at the futile attempt. But the woodman knows that he has made a beginning. Now he looks around, and finds his smallest, brightest, and sharpest little iron wedge. He places the sharp point of this in one of the little gashes made by the still sharper ax. The rails, however, lie there very quiet and unconcerned. They say, “What does that little thing amount to? Suppose, Mr. Woodman, you get that little wedge clear in, it won't amount to much; that will never split this great log, and divide us, and get us separated.”

But the rail-splitter views the matter differently. So he lifts his maul, and lays on blow after blow till the little wedge is entirely buried in the end. Not much of an opening has been made, just a little crack a few inches deep. But that is a beginning. He follows this up now with a larger iron wedge placed in the opening made by the little sharp-edged tool. Again he lifts the maul—listen! crack, snap, go the splinters, and soon you have an opening an inch and a half wide and perhaps two feet deep or more.

Now the old log begins to groan. It did not care anything about the strokes of the little ax, nor the work of the small wedge; but this large wedge troubles it some. But the work does not end here. The rail-splitter now brings forth a large wooden wedge. He inserts the blunt end of this clumsy tool into the opening made by the smaller wedges. Now listen; crack, snap, twing—see how very rapidly that rent grows in the old log! It creeps along down the sides and into the heart, while every splinter cries out in alarm, “What shall be done? Let us out with that big wedge, or we are ruined.” But it is too late now. A still larger wedge follows each preceding one, till finally twenty rails lie there each one separate from the other.

Now let us transfer this to the church. The devil's work is to separate the members one from the other, as a man separates a log into rails. But how is this to be done? Look at that little church just brought into the truth. They are all rejoicing in the light, and happy in the Lord and in each other's confidence. They love to associate together, to pray and talk and sing together. It is the delight of their lives. They are perfectly united. They feel as though nothing could ever separate them. But the devil has succeeded so many times that he never despairs of even the most united church. But where shall he commence? How shall he get his wedge in? He knows it is useless to commence with some great affair. It would be impossible for him to get these brethren or sisters into a real hand to hand fight. No; they would be frightened at the very idea. He could not get one of them to steal from another. They would never think of it. He knows that he must commence with some small matter. Like the rail-splitter, he must begin with his smallest and brightest iron wedge.

The devil looks the church all over, and studies each member carefully. Pretty soon he finds his tool. Quite generally it is that little, smooth-tongued, talkative sister. He watches. Now he prompts her to commence tattling a little, or surmising or magnifying some small thing. Then he finds another tool in some silly one who will run and carry this to another member. There! the work has begun. The devil has got his little iron wedge in; but now it must not be left there. It must be driven clear in. So he induces every member that comes along to take up the maul and hit it a blow. At every stroke it enters deeper. The work is now encouragingly begun. Now the devil is ready for something larger. He soon finds occasion to follow up this little opening with a more grave matter. A larger wedge is put in.

Now the members forget the other affair, and turn their attention to pounding this wedge, and in it goes, deeper and deeper. Now the church is in trouble. It begins to groan and sigh and shed tears, while the devil laughs. But he does not let it rest there. He must keep following it up. By this time he has managed to provoke some one to say some very harsh thing of another. All right, this is just what he wanted. This is his big wooden wedge. He puts that in the rent, and now sets every one lustily to mauling this, when the work is done. Like the old oak log, the church now lies split right in two. The balance of the work is easy. It is a small matter now to split them up into factions.

My brother, my sister, is your church in trial? How did it come about? The devil did it, of course, but who was his tool? He could not have done it without his little iron wedge. Where did he find that? Have you unwittingly submitted yourself to do this work of Satan? Are you the devil's iron wedge?

D. M. CANRIGHT.