Silently and unseen by us the angel secretaries are taking a faithful record of our words and actions, and even of our thoughts. Do we realize this? and a more solemn question is, What is the record they are making?
Not long ago I read of a strange list. It was an exact catalogue of the crimes committed by a man who was at last executed in Norfolk Island, with the various punishments he had received for his different offenses. It was written out in small hand by the chaplain, and was nearly three yards long.
What a sickening catalogue to be crowded into one brief life. Yet this man was once an innocent child. A mother no doubt bent lovingly over him, a father perhaps looked upon him in pride and joy, and imagination saw him rise to manhood honored and trusted by his fellow-men. But the boy chose the path of evil and wrong-doing regardless of the record he was making, and finally committed an act, the penalty for which was death, and he perished miserably upon the scaffold.
Dear readers, most of you are young, and your record is but just commenced. Oh, be warned in time, and seek to have a list of which you will not be ashamed when scanned by Jehovah, angels, and men. Speak none but kind, loving words, have your thoughts and aspirations pure and noble, crowd into your life all the good deeds you can, and thus crowd out evil ones.
We should not forget that an account-book is kept by God, in which all the events of our lives are recorded, and that even every thought will be brought before us at the day of judgment. In that day God will judge the secrets of men: he will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart.
There is another book spoken of in the Bible. The book of life, and it is said that no one can enter heaven whose name is not written in the Lamb's book of life.
Angels are now weighing moral worth. The record will soon close, either by death or the decree, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still, and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy let him be holy still." We have but one short, preparing hour in which to redeem the past and get ready for the future. Our life record will soon be examined. What shall it be!
| MOTHER. |
| The silvery hairs are weaving A crown above her brow, But surely mother never seemed One-half so sweet as now! The love-light beams from out her eyes As clear, as sweet and true, As when, with youthful beauty crowned, Life bloomed for her all new. No thought of self doth ever cast A cloudlet o'er the light That shines afar from out her soul, So steadfast, pure, and bright. Her love illumes the darkest hour, Smooths all the rugged way, Makes lighter every burden, Cheers through each weary day. More precious than the rarest gem In all the world could be; More sweet than honor, fame, and praise, Is mother's love to me. |