Friends Turning From the Truth
By Sarah E. Baker
Of all the adversities with which we meet, in the Christian pilgrimage, to see our friends rushing on to destruction, is the most heart-rending. Those who have once looked with joy for a coming Saviour, and from whose lips we have heard expressions of delight, at the thought that his word attested his coming nigh; those who once have said, "Though he tarry, yet will we wait for him, for he will surely come," O, how can these, with the signs of his near approach fast thickening around them, how can they turn a deaf ear to the proclamation to which they were then so warmly attached? O how can they endure the thought of being at last, after all their endeavors, and all the blessings, all the mercy and love bestowed upon them, found unprepared, and come short of the inheritance for which they have so earnestly sought? When we behold those friends wasting the precious moments of time allotted to us probationers here; when we behold them turn a deaf ear to the last message of mercy to a fallen world, and think of what will be the fate of the unprepared, we feel sad. But, whilst we feel thus for our friends, do we look back? do we regret that we have taken any steps towards leaving fleeting pleasures, and vain pursuits of this short life? does our sympathy for them create within us a desire to cleave unto them, and enjoy the treasures of this earth only? No, no; and the Lord forbid that this may ever be the case. May we ever be enabled to cut off a right hand, and pluck out a right eye, break through every fondness, and every attachment that would destroy our highest, our eternal interest. We would behold the land of our delight. We have taken the Lord for our portion, and, though every friend forsake us, and foes oppress us, may our faith, our hope and our trust, ever be immovably planted on the rock of ages. On the mighty arm of the Lord may we lean. We would gladly see our friends cleaving unto the Lord; yea, we would rejoice to see them leaving the transitory pleasures, the fading treasures, and the vain pursuits and all allurements of this short life, for the pleasures and treasures of a better world, and the life which passeth not away; we grieve to see them reject a truth which is able to make them wise unto salvation; but 'tis the blessed hope which then buoys our spirits up, and give this up we cannot. O, that the fearful would put their trust unreservedly and perpetually in the living God. O that they would heartily say to their Saviour:
"All that I am and all I have,
Shall be forever thine;
Whate'er my duty bids me give,
My cheerful hands resign.
Yet if I might make some reserve,
And duty does not call,
I love my God with zeal so great,
That I will give him all." Is it too much to pledge to Him from whom we derive our existence, and all we enjoy? Can we not give up this earth? Can we not lay aside all the vain allurements and enjoyments of this short life, for life eternal? Yea, can we not leave all, friends, yea, "the objects of our fondest affections;" "friendship, the rarest gem of earth;" wealth, fame, fashion, show and pride—can we not resign them all for a treasure where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, thieves molest, nor foes intrude? These, yea, all these, must fade and die away, or be borne on the swift tide of time to eternity, where all earthly ties will be forever broken, where all earthly wealth, all earthly riches, fame, and all, yea, all the treasures of earth can be no more enjoyed. Then why, O why can we not give them up now? What are all the treasures of earth, compared with the treasures of the world to come? "No joys can equal those," and yet how few realize their worth. O may the Lord arouse the honest, cheer and encourage the disconsolate and tried, and cause the slumbering to realize the importance of the time in which we are living, and O may they bestir themselves, ere it is forever too late. May they throw off every shackle, sunder every cord that binds them to earth, "lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset them," strive to overcome the world, the flesh, and the power of the enemy over them, that they may at last be found among that number unto whom it shall be said, "Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." I am glad, that if faithful a little while longer, we shall be redeemed from this world of darkness, of strife and confusion, this world of misery and woe, and be admitted into a world of light and glory, of peace, of joy, and of love. How dreary, how dark and gloomy are the things of earth. All things of earth have lost their beauty. That which once would have dispersed loneliness and gloominess, cannot now. No, its virtue to console is lost, in the far more consoling thought of soon, if faithful, outriding all the storms and afflictions of this inconstant life. If this were all a mere story, if we could not see beyond this vale of tears, a more enduring substance, a better world than this, O where should we look for consolation? When for a moment the eye of faith is diverted from the bright prospect before us, how lonely and sad we feel; and could we be in possession of all things of earth, the remainder of our days, and be assured that these would not be cut short, but extended far beyond the eye of "ancient men of old," how could it satisfy, whilst we have the assurance of beholding, if faithful unto the end, Him whom we love, to all eternity; and that too, where none of the conflicts and afflictions of this life shall mar our peace, but where all, all will be peace, joy and love, forever? O, we know that he that testifieth, "Surely I come quickly," will come, and will not lie; and that, "when Christ, who is our life, shall appear," then shall we, if faithful, "also appear with him in glory." Herein we greatly rejoice. And, with the bright prospect before us, of soon outriding all the conflicts and afflictions of this life, of soon emerging from this wilderness world into a world of light and glory, we feel encouraged to go on, to press through every discouragement, and obstacle in the way, that we may at last be accounted worthy to enter the pearly gates of the golden city, and ever remain with the Lord. Seeing the signs of the soon coming of our Saviour, we feel to look up, knowing that the time of our redemption draweth nigh: the time when they that are ready and waiting, they, who, by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony, have overcome the world and all its evils, will be freed from all the conflicts and afflictions, all the trials and besetments of this life, and be admitted into the realms of everlasting joy. O may we be found among that number, and be sheltered from the wrath of the Almighty, when "he ariseth to shake terribly the earth." May we put on the whole armor of the Lord, that we may be able to stand against the wiles of the enemy. May we be enabled to overcome all our evil propensities and the besetments of this life, that we, at last, may behold the Saviour of the world with joy and not with grief. O may we be enabled to see the straitness of the way, see and realize the importance of leading a holy life, not only for the good of self, but that others around us, seeing our good works, may be induced to sunder the cord that binds them to the transitory and trifling things of this world, and seek for more substantial joys.
SARAH E. BAKER.
Lebanon, N. H., Oct. 23d, 1854.