But I want you to take the hint of the text that I have no time to dwell on—the hint that there is a time when He can not be found. There is a man in New York, eighty years of age, who said to a clergyman who came in, “Do you think that a man at eighty years of age can get pardoned?” “Oh, yes,” said the clergyman. The old man said: “I can’t; when I was twenty years of age—I am now eighty years—the Spirit of God came to my soul, and I felt the importance of attending to these things, but I put it off. I rejected God, and since then I have had no feeling.” “Well,” said the minister, “wouldn’t you like to have me pray with you?” “Yes,” replied the old man, “but it will do no good. You can pray with me if you like to.” The minister knelt down and prayed, and commended the man’s soul to God. It seemed to have no effect upon him. After awhile the last hour of the man’s life came, and through his delirium a spark of intelligence seemed to flash, and with his last breath he said; “I shall never be forgiven!” “O seek the Lord while He may be found.”
Doctor TALMAGE’S sermon, preached at Cork, Ireland, Sunday morning, Sept 6th, 1885.
“When the Son of Man shall come in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then shall He sit upon the throne of His glory: and before Him shall be gathered all nations: and He shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats.”—Matthew xxv: 31, 32.
Half-way between Chamouny, Switzerland, and Martigny, I reined in the horse on which I was riding, and looked off upon the most wonderful natural amphitheater of valley and mountain and rock, and I said to my companion, “What an appropriate place this would be for the last judgment. Yonder overhanging rock the place for the judgment seat. These galleries of surrounding hills occupied by attendant angels. This vast valley, sweeping miles this way and miles that, the audience-room for all nations.” But sacred geography does not point out the place. Yet we know that somewhere, some time, somehow, an audience will be gathered together stupendous beyond all statistics, and just as certainly as you and I make up a part of this audience to-day, we will make up a part of that audience on that day.
A common sense of justice in every man’s heart demands that there shall be some great winding-up day, in which that which is now inexplicable shall be explained.
Why did that good man suffer, and that bad man prosper? You say, “I don’t know, but I must know.” Why is that good Christian woman dying of what is called a spider cancer, while that daughter of folly sits wrapped in luxury, ease, and health? You say, “I don’t know, but I must know.” There are so many wrongs to be righted that if there were not some great righting-up day in the presence