However, let us return to our subject—the last pole—and reflect.
"We, like the crowded poles, all stand,
And all are sure to fall;
The dog and hook[13] are in God's hand,
And soon will reach us all."
Yes, my dear young readers, whatever may be those delightsome games of which you are so fond, the last game will soon come. Yea, how soon will be the end of all our earthly pleasures none of us can tell. If we look forward to any day or time of some kind of pleasure, it may seem to approach us very slowly, but how soon do we look behind us, and say, "Alas! that too has gone, never, never more to return."
In like manner also we miss a dear brother or dear sister, a friend, schoolmate, or teacher; perhaps a dear, loving mother or father. "Ah!" we say, "they will never return again." Sometimes we reflect with sorrow upon some unkind words or actions towards them—some pain and grief that we caused them. Perhaps we were too proud or too stubborn to ask their forgiveness while they were with us, so we let the sun go down upon our wrath, and now we can never forgive ourselves. Though they are gone, we see them still—
"We see their smiles, we see their tears;
The grave can never hide them;
A few more days, or months, or years,
A few more sighs, a few more tears,
And we shall lie beside them."
Seeing that it is quite uncertain which of us will be the next to have our earthly ties cut, and all our bloom and beauty stripped off, may I ask my dear young friends what are their thoughts on the subject? Whether it is passed over with indifference, presuming you shall be as well off in the end as other people, or are there moments when thoughts arise like these—"Oh, if death should overtake me as I am—so careless, so unconcerned, so thoughtless, and yet unpardoned! Oh, if my name should be left out—and how can I expect anything else—so prayerless as I am, for the most part, and my performance so unlike prayer when I do make the attempt? Oh, if I could but know that the dear Lord had a favour towards me! Why, if all the world were mine, I would lay it all down this minute to be sure that Jesus died for me"? And is there sometimes a little thought stealing from thine heart, and a tear like a drop of the morning dew trickling from thine eye, which says, "Oh, if ever I should be able to say, 'Bless the Lord, O my soul,' how I should leap for joy to be thus quite sure of being the Lord's"? Then, if this is your feeling after Christ Jesus, I will tell you how it will be with you some day. The Lord, who has said, "Seek, and ye shall find," will give you the desire of your heart, even pardon and peace through faith in His blood, and at last—
"When shivering in the arms of death,
When friends shall watch thy parting breath,
Though then thy lips can no more speak,
Though deathly paleness clads thy cheek,
Glory shall fill thy soul."
T. G.