"Behold the Day Cometh That Shall Burn Like an Oven!"
By Vesta N. Cudworth
Bro. White: I send you an article taken from an old number of the World's Crisis, which I think, on account of the truth it contains, and its special applicableness to the present time, will be read with interest by the readers of the Review. I would say, also, that the writer of that article has commenced keeping the commandments of God, (or trying to,) the fourth not excepted; thus we see that the present truth is still at work in the minds of some of the honest ones, for which we have reason to thank God, and take courage. My prayer is, the Lord speed the right. Were it not a fact, that life is brief, that death may suddenly unclothe us of mortal life, it is fearful (without a good foundation,) to realize, that we are standing on this world's meager sea, whose very waters are kissing the shores of eternity, and the next wave may bring us to the shore, where our life voyage in time will be ended. Our long day's work will then be done, not as individuals only, but a whole world's work completed. As a world, and as individuals, no repairs in the past can then be made. Our vessel can never reverse its course, or traverse its long path again; only one voyage is vouchsafed to man, only one for the world; if this prove a failure, it is an eternal failure. The morning of the world is gone, its noon,—its sun has been sinking lower and lower, until but a speck of its disk is visible. The song-bird gathers its wings, and bids farewell to her home work; its little nest in the bough is left far behind, while she seeks some sunny spot; but it is only till the cold winds pass away, and the snow melts from the green sod in its native bowers, then she returns to work and sing, as before. But when man lays down his work, he may never resume it again. There is no retrograde hour in his probation. If he darkens one bright spot for his fellow, he may not stay to repair it. If he jostles one car from the rail, it drags a whole train with it; but on, on he whirls, leaving in his track weeping and desolation. As circle after circle is formed in the water, by dropping a pebble into its clear fount; so one sin may gather in its train a multitude, an army of effects, that will be felt long after the transgressor has stepped from the stage. Sinner, beware! Backslider, pause! lest not only thorns be planted in an earthly pillow, but the blood of the ungodly be at last found in thy skirts. Ungodly deeds and words, like spectres, haunt the midnight hour, and the couch of death, but will speak in a voice of thunder, when man stands before his Judge. And thou, hoary-headed world, although so old in guilt, so august in numbers, think not to escape the vengeance of a long-suffering God; thy crimes have reached unto Heaven; the very soil is polluted with blood, the air is burdened with the sighing of the prisoners, the clank of the chain has entered the ears of the God of Sabaoth; the tears and groans of past ages are not forgotten; dissembling and lying, treachery and pride, have filled thy cup, and thou must fall. The earth, once destroyed by water, is reserved unto fire, and the perdition of the ungodly, but a little reprieve is granted. Thy fate lingers; a beam of mercy falls across thy pathway, but the gleaning after the harvest is almost ended; the precious are being taken from the vile, the day of his preparation is almost over. Many have been buying the eye-salve, and, thank God, are no longer blind. There are a few that are keeping the word of his patience, holding fast their crown. Some are rich with the gold tried in the fire, and have bought the white raiment. In short, the bride is almost ready. Then the kingdom must be given to the Mighty Conqueror and his chosen. Awake! doomed world, from thy slumbers, prepare to meet thy God! for behold he cometh with vengeance and a recompense. — Vesta N. Cudworth.