Sermons Preached in the African Protestant Episcopal Church of St. Thomas', Philadelphia/Sermon 8
SERMON VIII.
the shortness and uncertainty of time.
"But this I say brethren, the time is short."
The sentiment contained in the words of the text, is one of those solemn truths which the mind of man is averse duly to contemplate. Some airy phantom, some earthly vanity, is always cordially invited to a prominent place in his thoughts, while this serious truth is banished from the mind as an unwelcome guest. The promise of enjoying yet many days of health, ease and pleasure here, though it be a lie conjured up by a corrupt and deceitful imagination, is listened to by the worldling with delight; while the truth, which reason, observation and divine revelation confirm, is practically rejected. Buthowever averse we may be to give this subject that due consideration which its importance demands, its truthfulness nevertheless, remains the same. Our indifference to it cannot alter it. It becomes us, therefore, as rational and accountable beings, calmly, but seriously to consider, how short the time is that we have to remain upon the stage of action. And may the Holy Spirit help us so to consider it, that we may be led to apply our hearts unto heavenly wisdom.
"The time is short." Compared with that eternal duration which is without beginning or end; time, in its most extended sense, stretching out its line from the dawn of creation to the final consummation of all things, is short. For though our planet should continue its diurnal and annual revolution a thousand times longer than it has already, a period is to arrive, when its present career through its appointed pathway will be terminated—when "it shall wax old as doth a garment, and be changed." But, eternity, properly speaking, has neither beginning nor end. There can be no proportion, therefore, between the longest duration of time and that of eternity. But it becomes us to contemplate that portion of time which is parcelled out to us as individuals, by the Author and giver of life. And how exceedingly small is the part allotted us. In the Adamic age, the life of man was reckoned up by hundreds. Adam, the father of the human race, lived nine hundred and thirty years before he died. Seth, his son, lived nine hundred and twelve years, and he died. Enos, his grand-son, lived nine hundred and five years, and he died: and so the catalogue proceeds in its statement of the lengthened lives of the patriarchs who lived before the flood. But in the time of the Psalmist David, we find human life to be reckoned up not by hundreds as before, but by scores. "The days of our years," says he, "are three-score years and ten, and if by reason of strength they be four-score years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow, for it is soon cut off, and we fly away."[1] As if years were too large a point by which to reckon up the shortness of human life, the Scriptures count it by months. "The number of his months are with thee."[2] Very frequently it is reckoned by days. "Man, that is born of a woman," says Job, "is of few days."[3] Nay, it is accounted but one day "Till he shall accomplish as an hireling his day."[4] The apostle Paul, compares it to a still shorter period—a moment. "Our light affliction," says he, "which is but for a moment."[5] So short is human life, as if there could not be any thing in nature to give a just representation of it, the Psalmist says,—"Mine age is as nothing before thee."[6] A very slight observation will lead us to acknowledge the justness of this melancholy view of human life. If we look over this congregation, or any. other assembled for a similar purpose; if we take a larger survey, and view the community in which we live, how few comparatively do we see whose heads are crowned with the frost of seventy winters. We behold only a few here and there moving along the shore of time, as relics of days gone by; and their fewness are as monuments bearing our text as an inscription, to be read and seriously pondered by every beholder. The silent but significant language of their whitened locks and furrowed cheeks, to the present generation, is, "Brethren, the time is short."—It is true that we have reached our three-score years and ten, but this point in human existence, the great majority of our race never attain. The large circle of those with whom we passed the blithesome hours of youth, have long since shot the awful gulf of a boundless eternity. A few of us stand trembling upon the shore, to admonish you with a silent but impressive voice, how vain it is for you to calculate upon attaining the days of our lengthened years. For long, long before man reaches this, he enters the narrow house appointed for all living. The most of our fellow creatures die like a flower blasted in the morning, or at noon, a fact, that shows how delusive is the hope of a protracted life. Another point worthy of our consideration is, that time is as uncertain as it is short. The present moment is all that we can safely calculate upon. The future is veiled in the bosom of the great Eternal. He only knows whether or not any one present shall survive the setting sun. We know not what a day may bring forth. Neither youth nor superior strength is the least security against the sudden attack of death. His shafts fly so promiscuously, that none can tell who will be the next victim. Sudden as lightning sometimes his arrows fly, and wound and kill in the twinkling of an eye. Before another day rolls over our heads, for all that we know to the contrary, some one of us may behold that veil removed which now hides from our view, the grand, but awful scenes of the eternal world.
The short and uncertain tenure of human life would be of small moment were it not connected with other results of the most solemn and overwhelming character. God, in his great wisdom and goodness saw fit to create different ranks and orders of beings, and to place them in different localities in his wide dominions, to answer certain good purposes. Upon our earth we behold a variety of living creatures, some of which, so far as we know, have no relation at all to another state of being—all their movements are confined within the small circle of time here allotted to them. But man is placed in circumstances quite different. He, like the other creatures, has but a small space of time to carry on his operations here, but his movements are not confined, like theirs, within the little boundary marked out to him in this world. No. His dominion over the rest of the creatures, his superior skill, his boundless desires, his hopes, his fears, all more than intimate that he has within him a spirit, destined to survive this material system, and that his future happiness or misery will depend upon the character formed in this state of mortality. These solemn and overwhelming truths, indicated by the light of reason, are set forth in the brightness of a sun-beam upon the inspired page. We are there told not only that life is short, that "it is appointed unto men once to die," but we are also told that "after this the judgment"[7]—that "God will render to every man according to his deeds,—to them who by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, honor, immortality, eternal life" while on the other hand, "unto them that are contentious, and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, indignation and wrath, tribulation, and anguish, upon every soul that doeth evil."[8] These considerations, brethren, stamp upon our time an incalculable value, connected as it is with our eternal destinies. We may contemplate the shortness of life as an abstract truth, somewhat unmoved. But it becomes us to consider it as connected with its thrilling results—we should ever bear in mind that our few days here below will tell whether we shall be happy forever in heaven, or forever miserable in hell. This is the sober view in which we should always regard this subject; this is the view in which the Apostle regarded it when he lifted up his voice and pronounced with such solemn emphasis, saying,—"But this I say, brethren, the time is short."
Let us inquire now, what influence this subject should have upon our life and conduct. Should the thought, that in a few days we shall be in the world of spirits, have the effect of filling our minds with superstitious dread, and of imbittering our whole lives with the fearful apprehension of death? No. This course would have the tendency of rendering our lives still shorter, and would be contrary to sound reason, and contrary to God's express command:—"Thou shalt not kill." Again, because our days are few, should we therefore leave all converse with our fellow-men, seclude ourselves in some retired cell, and there spend our time in mortifying the body for the good of the soul? This would be a superstitious absurdity, but no part of Christian duty. Utter seclusion from the world is nowhere enjoined. The Bible addresses us as members of society, and enjoins upon each in his vocation and calling to serve the Lord faithfully—"to glorify God in body and spirit which are his." The godly are represented therein, as the light of the world. And they are called upon in all their relations, whether domestic, civil or religious, to let their light shine, that others seeing their good works may be led to glorify their Father in heaven. In the words that immediately follow the text, the apostle clearly shows what effect the sentiment therein contained should have upon us: "But this I say, brethren, the time is short. It remaineih therefore, that they that have wives be as though they had none, and they that weep as though they wept not, and they that rejoice as though they rejoiced not, and they that buy as though they possessed not, and they that use this world as not abusing it, for the fashion of this world passeth away."
We learn from this subject, the importance of setting a proper estimate on all earthly things—of regarding them as they really are, fleeting and swiftly passing away. We may lawfully enjoy, yet we should always endeavor to preserve ourselves from immoderate attachment to the most endearing objects. We should sit loose from the world, and be found cultivating that pious frame of mind that will enable us in cheerful submission to take our departure whenever a wise and gracious Providence shall call us so to do. Such a temper as this will keep the mind properly balanced. With its affections set on things above and not on things on the earth, it will not be puffed up with the joys, nor cast down by the sorrows of earth. If, with such a temper, the Christian be in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity, possessing natural sensibilities, he may weep. But knowing that all his troubles and adversities will soon end in the tomb, he weeps as though he wept not. Does the sun of prosperity shine upon his path? He rejoices as he should, and gives thanks to the Author of every good and perfect gift. But being duly sensible of the transitory and changing nature of all earthly things—knowing that the clearest morning sky may be overcast with clouds long before the noon, he tempers all his earthly joys with godly fear. This is the noble temper with which the apostle designed to inspire his brethren at Corinth—a kind of independence of all temporal things.—Not despising the good things of the world, but putting a due estimate upon them, using them in their proper place—not seeking happiness in them, but in the only living and true God. This is the temper that becomes us as dying men diligently to cultivate. With our hearts thus aloof from earth, our conversation in heaven, when the time of our departure is at hand, we shall be kept in perfect peace, and enabled to pass through the valley and shadow of death, fearing no evil. We may then in the triumphant language of St. Paul, exclaim—"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, hut unto all them also that love his appearing."[9] But on the other hand, if we suffer our minds to linger here with fond attachment to the things of earth, we shall be lifted up by its joys, and thrown down by its sorrows; and when we are called to die, having devoted all our attention to the things of time, the soul will be forced away into eternity, with a weight of unrepented sins that must inevitably sink it into endless perdition. For, "except a man be born of water and of the Spirit" our Lord declares that "he cannot enter into the kingdom of God."[10] He can neither be admitted into the kingdom of grace here, nor participate in the ineffable glories of his kingdom hereafter. As it is not in man to desire misery—all would like at last, after they have shook off this mortal coil, to escape the damnation of hell, and enter upon an endless career of happiness in heaven. But this cannot be, there must be a previous fitness, a preparation in order to participate in the happiness of the saints in light. Otherwise, heaven itself would be a hell. The imperfect happiness that falls to the lot of mortals here on earth, flows from congeniality of mind, sentiment and affection. And the same law prevails among the society of the blessed. The inhabitants of that glorious region are all holy—they have one common centre of attraction—they all harmonize in adoring, worshipping, and praising Him who is God over all blessed forever. Place an unholy being in sight of the tree of life that is in the midst of the Paradise of God, and of those fountains of living waters to which the redeemed of the Lord are led, and let him hear that great multitude which no man can number, and all the angels that burn around the throne, let him hear them in full chorus sing:—"Blessing and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might be unto our God forever and ever;" so far would he be from participating in the general joy, that his misery would be increased. He would turn away with a look of malignant envy and deep despair, exclaiming—
"Which way I fly is hell,
Myself am hell."
The hope therefore that may be entertained by the ungodly, of finally sharing in the blessedness of heaven, is sure to meet with an awfully sad disappointment. "If we sow to the flesh, we shall of the flesh reap corruption, but if we sow to the Spirit, we shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." And this work of sowing to the Spirit, must be attended to in the proper season. You have a day in which you may labour with success. But it is only a day—a day swiftly passing away. O why should we be grovelling here, seeing that we shall so soon be called away to try the realities of the eternal world? Does it not become us to be up and doing the work of our soul's salvation while it is called, to day? This is the great lesson that a mysterious Providence is enforcing upon us by the awful plague[11] that is now sweeping off the race by hundreds, both in this and in other countries. God now impressively calls upon men "to consider their ways," "to do justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly before him." Short-sighted indeed must he be who has failed to observe the growing disposition to cast off the fear of God, the wholesome restraints of religion, to profane the Lord's day—to lessen the influence of churches and ministers, and all sacred institutions. Indeed, even children are now much wiser than their parents, guardians and teachers, in their own estimation. Many of these young wiseacres, have yet to learn the rudiments of moral science. They may, notwithstanding, be seen with all the pompous air of assumed independence, uniting in the mad cry,—"down with churches, down with the ministry." And this spirit is doing its legitimate work of devastation and ruin. A large contribution for a ball, club supper, or some other demoralizing amusement, can be raised with ten-fold more ease, than even a paltry penny collection to sustain a church, or Sabbath school institution. We speak now with general reference. We believe it to be universally true, that there is a growing disregard among men to all that is godly, holy and good. Men are growing wiser, but not better. They are making wonderful improvements in the arts and sciences. But their minds are evidently blinded more and more by the god of this world, who leads them captive at his will. In view of such a state of things, is it any wonder that we behold God's judgments abroad in the earth—"the pestilence walking in darkness and destroying" its victims "at noonday." For his usual method has been, that when his appointed agencies have failed to reclaim men from the error of their ways, he has uniformly put forth the fearful arm of vengeance. Let us be wise, and improve the awful visitation inflicted upon us, by sincere repentance; by cultivating works of piety and love; beseeching him to turn away his anger, that we perish not. And, "what thy hand findeth to do" on this subject, "do it with thy might, for there is no work" to be done in this matter, "no device" no scheme to be devised for your salvation, "no knowledge" of this to be obtained "in the grave" of which we are now so frequently reminded, by the mourners daily walking the streets, carrying man to his long home. I beseech you, therefore, to attend to the things that belong to your peace, now while you may, lest they be forever hid from your eyes.