THE SADDEST OF ALL SHIPWRECKS.
FROM day to day we meet men and women whose hopes have fallen in upon one another like the walls of a ruined house. The bright eyes of faith and courage, the windows of the soul, no longer glitter in their casements, and only dissolution and hopeless despair stare at the passer-by—stare into your face, as you try to translate the history of the wreck from the rude pencillings of the wreckers left upon the ruins. Every ruin has its history, be it a ruined mansion or a ruined life; and the history of the wrecked life is written in the soul. We have seen the wrecks of splendid ships lying upon the rocky shore or burying themselves in the quicksands of a treacherous beach, while others, no better made or manned, go sailing by in the full glory of the maker's purpose. And we have seen souls—souls so precious in the sight of Heaven that the Son of God could die to save them—as truly wrecks as the hulks that lie stranded on the beach; and just as helpless they lie and just as useless, bedding themselves in the shifting, drifting sands of doubt and unbelief and despair, sinking slowly and surely into the earth and becoming of it; while at the same time others no better by nature or favoring circumstances, are voyaging straight on to the harbor of the great Master-Builder's purpose. There are storms on every sea; there are shoals or rocks or quicksands on every shore. The depths of the sea are peopled with the ghosts of ships which could not ride the waves when the staggering blows of the hurricane came down upon the sea; while upon the shoals or among the rocks, or deep down in the springy depths of the quicksands, the wreck of many a noble bark lies buried for all time. And so it is with man. Buoyant with hope, he has sped on the wings of a favoring gale toward some cherished goal, sped on until some storm of opposition has shattered his timbers, and he has been beaten down into the sea of hopeless discouragement. No longer able to ride upon the waves, he has become the plaything of the aimless tides, and the seaweed of lost hope clasps its pulseless fingers over his grave, and weaves the cold filigree of its slimy fringes into shrouds for such as these. Trusting in their own strength, they met a stronger power; and went down; and the waters that might have been the path of their progress closed over them forever. The hopes that lie coffined in the mighty deep are as many as the waves that beat their bare white arms against the cold gray cliffs; and the souls that have gone down in the sea of disappointed hope are as many as the cries that go up to the gods of wealth to-day from the sea of unrequited toil. There is no purpose of our Maker that can not be fulfilled in us to-day. We have only to let Him take the helm, and He will steer our bark out of7every storm that rages round us. "Without Me," said He, "ye can do nothing." But men to-day are saying in their hearts and by their acts, "I can do all things through self that strengthens me;" and when the storm comes down, the source of their power is shaken and shattered, storm-tossed, engulfed; and with that gone, their all is gone. Like the ships upon the sea, their only protection is in themselves, and the storm is stronger than the ship. There is a better source of strength and protection than self, a source which no storm can shake, no power of earth destroy, and it is open to every voyager upon the sea of life. "Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea I will uphold thee with the right hand of My righteousness." Isa. 41:10. There is no necessity for the wrecks that strew the sea of life. There has been ample provision made for the safe voyage of every soul that has set out upon the sea. God can not save the soul that flees from His power and His protection, and binds its hope to the flimsy fabric of its own strength and its own protection. Such a soul must go down; for the powers that wrestle for its ruin are greater than the powers to which it looks for succor. There is a chart and compass for every voyager, and a light to dispel every fog, and shine through the darkest night that shuts its curtains down upon the sea. But in the confidence of self, men have chosen to trust to the rush-light of their own reason, have set their course straight into the fog-bank of doubt, and crashed upon the rocks of eternal ruin. These are the saddest wrecks that strew the earth to-day, and they outnumber a hundred to one the wrecks that stud the bottom of the sea. The shipwrecks of the sea are sad events. When we look at a majestic ship speeding toward a distant port with full sail set, we are filled with admiration. When we look upon the bleaching bones of a rock-riven wreck, or think of those that lie in the ooze of the ocean bed, we are filled with sorrow. But how much more admirable than the great ship, how much grander, is the sight when we look upon a human life, with all the power of God behind it or at its command, speeding toward the port of divine purpose, in company with or conveying a fleet of other lives in which humanity is surrendered to divinity, and every great purpose of the eternal Pilot is being wrought out in a wealth of noble character. And how much more sorrowful than the wreck of the ship, how much more terrible, is that life, loaded with a perfect wealth of possibilities, that lies mangled upon the rocks of unbelief or lies loaded with the seaweed of miscarried purpose on the floor of life's sea, all because unbelief was at the helm and self upon the bridge, and God and His great purpose were shut out of the mind and heart. The saddest of all shipwrecks are the shipwrecks of life. God has a purpose concerning every soul. He will work out that purpose in every soul that will yield to His control, and the grandeur of the fulness of that purpose no human being has yet comprehended, nor can the human mind conceive it, for the half has not been told. The wrecked ship lies in its cold bed at the bottom of the sea; but the life-wreck, like a floating derelict, moves about among us hopeless, purposeless, aimless, drifting with the ebb and flow of the restless tide of doubt, a menace to other voyagers, and a sad, sad monument to the folly of unbelief. There is hope for the voyager on life's sea, but that hope is not in self. God must be the pilot; God the protector; God the helper and refuge in every stress of trial; the comforter in every sorrow; the power that wafts the vessel onward and homeward; and His Word the light to dispel every cloud of gloom and every fog that would enshroud the ship. He will do all that for you; His Word will be all that to you: Take Him, then, for all that He has promised to be, and let His purpose be wrought out in your life, and your destiny be wrought out in His hand. There can be no sad wreck in such a life; but the light of God's blessing will shine out through the windows of the soul, and His glorious purpose concerning man will be worked out before the world in you.