WHAT is it you are wavering between? Dust and ashes, and "a crown of glory that fadeth not away." On your right hand is Christ, heaven, and an immortality of blessedness; on your left hand is disobedience, rebellion, discontent, remorse, despair, misery and death. Between these you are halting! While you halt the "gulf" is forming that will soon be fixed; the character is deepening that will soon be stereotyped forever. Indecision becomes decision; you decide for hell while you waver about heaven. And how imminent the peril of those that are wavering! It is now, or it is never; it is here or it is nowhere. The door will soon be shut that can never be opened, and the dark abyss set that can never be crossed. O that I could bring home to every halting man the position that, as a sinner without Christ, he occupies! Some will remember a touching tale mentioned in one of the little periodicals published for the laboring classes. It was published some years ago. It narrates how a poor man, on one of the rocky coasts of our country, that got his bread by gathering sea-fowls' eggs, went out one morning on his perilous adventure, and looking down a terrific steep, he saw midway a ledge abutting from the rock, covered with a cluster of the sea-fowls' nests. He fastened his rope to a tree above the cliff, and lowered himself cautiously down till he stood upon the ledge. In his eagerness to grasp the spoil he unwittingly dropped the noose of the rope by which he had descended, and it swung, as it appeared, far beyond his reach, and there he stood on that narrow ledge, above him a fearful height he had no hope to scale, below him a terrific precipice with the sea dashing at its base. It was a moment of unutterable anguish. In intensity of dismay, by a desperate effort he sprang upward. It pleased God he should grasp the rope. He drew himself up to the summit, trembling with transport and terror. Every one of us can realize the peril of that fellow-creature. But how akin to this, but intensely more awful, the condition of every waverer! He stands on the narrow ledge of life; above him is the terrific mountain of his guilt that he has no power in himself to scale; below him is the fearful abyss of death. O awake, fellow-sinner; awake to thy true and perilous position! It is late, but not too late. There is yet the rope that hangs from the cross of Jesus, or rather from the throne of God; that rope can lift thee over the mount of thy guilt, and land thee on the brink of the shore of eternal safety and peace. O leap, and live! "Fly for refuge and lay hold of the hope set before you," and as God liveth your soul shall live! He is "slow to anger and plenteous in mercy." "As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of a sinner, but rather that he should repent and live. Turn ye, turn ye; for why will ye die."