has left behind, and
has entered the solemn vestibule which at the other end opens on
eternity. With all the energy of his being, he applies himself now to
the question, Am I lost or saved?

He looks alternately backward on his own life, and upward to God's
throne; both prospects trouble him. Backward he sees only sin; forward,
only judgment. Himself seems the stubble, and the Judge a consuming
fire. As these two approach, and their meeting seems near, he fears with
an exceeding great fear, and cries with an exceeding bitter cry. He
greatly wonders, meanwhile, that he never saw things in this light
before. Now, in man's extremity, is God's opportunity to show him the
Father. While the eyes of the body are closed in weariness, the mental
vision remains active; and a picture appears, as if it were hung in
light upon the wall. To the soul's eye Christ appears, and appears in
the act of revealing the Father. The Father whom Christ reveals runs
forth to meet his prodigal son, falls on his neck, weeps, and kisses
him. There is no upbraiding, no bargaining for terms. The returning son
is forgiven, accepted, clothed, honoured, loved. He has all, and
abounds. This is doubtless a true picture, the dying youth reflects, for
it is Christ that displays it; but, alas, it brings no hope to me. I
have stifled convictions, and lived for my own pleasure; and though I
often heard of mercy, I never sought it, until I found that death was on
my track. How can I expect that God should receive me, when I make him a
do-no-better, for I never thought of seeking him until all my chosen
idols had forsaken me, and I was left destitute?

Brother, look; what good thing was in the lost son, that served to
recommend him to his father? He would not remain at home; he could not
enjoy his abundance as long as the father, whose face he loathed, abode
under the same roof. He went away, that he might enjoy the pleasures of
sin. He did not return while he had enough; he did not return when he
began to be in want; he endured the extreme of misery and shame rather
than return; he came back to his father only when all other resources
failed;--and yet his father received him with great gladness. Sinner,
look on this love,--look on it till you live in its light. It is not him
that never departed, or came back while he yet had plenty, or came back
soon, or came back with an improved heart,--it is, "_Him that cometh_ I
will in no wise cast out."

Those who from