Leave the Ship this Tide, or you are Lost.
In the great storm which swept the New England coast, Dec. 29th, 1853, the ship Lowell was driven ashore at Race point—one of twenty foundering vessels on that beach. The keeper of the lighthouse went between the breaking billows, and extending his arms, called to the mariners to fall into them. He thus conveyed ashore one by one, amid the cold spray of the wrathful waters, all excepting the mate of the ship. He, poor man was crazy. The horrors of the scene had turned his brain, and he walked the deck with the air of command. The brave deliverer of his comrades went to the vessel's side, and through the roar of the surges shouted, "Leave the ship this tide, or you are lost!" The maniac smiled, and continued his promenade on the reeling deck. The last call was heard and disregarded. Soon the bark went to pieces, and the solitary mariner perished. How strikingly does this fact illustrate the experience of many a sinner. In a time of revival, or on some occasion of unusual anxiety and effort for the salvation of an individual, does God's Spirit thus speak to the soul. The last invitation comes to the lingering member of a household, or of a social circle, almost all of whom have been gathered into the embrace of redeeming love: "Leave your perilous place of fancied security, this tide in your eternal destiny, or you perish." God sees it, friends fear such a result. But the sinner only pauses, smiles again, and is stranded for eternity. In these times, let men beware how they cling to the wreck of a fallen world, and refuse the extended arms of mercy, lest they be withdrawn for ever. Take courage and consider that the hour of self-denial and painful wrestling with God will be short, and the time of victorious recompense as long as eternity itself.—Fletcher.