Now, or To-Morrow

‘Boast nut thyself of to-morrow: for thou knowest not what a day may brinp forth.” — xxvii. 1.

JO -MORROW will come: on that point there is no doubt: but will you be here to meet it 1 The day is sure, but your interest in it is altogether uncertain. We have faculties for knowing the past and experiencing the present, but none for discerning the future. We know well, each in his own immediate sphere, what was yesterday, and what is to-day, but we know not at all what shall be to-morrow. The uncertain things are not the day and its nearness, but our life and our condition when it arrives.

To count on to-morrow so as to neglect the duty of to-day is in many respects the greatest practical error among men. None have a wider range, and none are charged with more dreadful consequences. Whether the work in hand pertain to small matters or great, — to the sowing of a field or the redemption of a soul, — for every one who deliberately resolves not to do it, a hundred tread the same path, and suffer the same loss at last, who only postpone the work to-day with the intention of performing it to-morrow.

This proverb contains only the negative side of the precept; but it is made hollow for the very purpose of holding the positive promise in its bosom. The Old Testament sweeps away the wide-spread indurated error; the New Testament then deposits its saving truth upon the spot. The law declares that to-morrow is the worst time for making the decisive choice, and the gospel proposes to-day as the best. For making the choice on which the interests either of time or eternity depend, Solomon warns us to distrust the future, and Paul persuades us to occupy the present hour. “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day, and that day is an high day in the calendar of heaven. On it, at early dawn, man was made in God’s image, and lost that image by his own sin: on it, at high noon, the Son of God took human nature, and died the Just for the unjust: ere its evening close in darkness, “the whole family of God” will have been born and educated for glory. This day, in the midst of eternity, though it seems small like a lone star in the blue sky, is greater than human thought at its utmost stretch can measure. Man signalized it by making it a day of perdition; God signalized it by making it a day of salvation.

This view of the earth would make pilgrims at every stage tread it reverently as holy ground: this view of life would infuse a heavenly wisdom into the spirit and conduct of the living. Time’s one great day begins with the creation of man, and ends with the coining of the Lord; but already in God’s sight that expanse is nothing more than a point; and to ourselves, when from eternity we look back, it will seem a speck upon the infinite. As one star differeth from another star in glory, this day will shine more brightly than all the rest, for it is the bride’s birth-day; it is the date attached to every name in the Lamb’s book of life.

2. Let Now represent this moment, and To-morrow the next. The same object may appear at one time as a lengthened line, and at another as a single point, according as it is presented to the observer. The “now” of mercy’s offer, which runs parallel with the human race over all the course of time, is also a moment which passes ere its name can be pronounced. Imagine the whole human race of all generations to be a moving row of living men, like a procession marching along the street; such, indeed, it actually is, almost without a figure. Conceive the “now” to be a fixed point on the route — a signal displayed from the palace of the King, and left to wave a welcome there throughout that great day, on which the procession is defiling past. From morning till night that same gladsome signal hangs at the same spot: but each man of the lengthened line is compelled to march quickly past, and to him it remains only a few moments in sight. One man inarches forward; others follow, beholding the signal in their turn; but those who have passed cannot see it now, although the sight were their life. Suppose the six hundred thousand Hebrews in the wilderness, when stung by the fiery serpents, formed in one vast column, and defiling, two or three deep, past the spot where the healing emblem hung. The movement occupies one whole day. The healing symbol is like God’s present accepted “Now,” and the march of the Hebrews past it is like the course of mankind over time. Mercy abides there all day long, but each passenger sees it only while he passes. If the wounded do not look when he is at the spot, he will go forward diseased, and perish beyond, although others coming after him are still getting life from the look

Now is displayed from heaven, an invitation from its Lord to the generations of men, as they are gliding past it like a stream. He holds it out all the day, from the morning, when he made man in his own image, till that gathering night, when a mighty angel shall proclaim that time shall be no more. He has never drawn it up, although the provocation has been great; and will not draw it up till the last man shall heave in sight and look upon it. To the race it is a line stretching over all time: but to the individual it is only a point. For narrowness it is a point, but it is the point of the sceptre extended from the hand of the King; and the law of the kingdom is, that whosoever touches it shall live. Such and so winsome has Mercy made to-day, that men might be persuaded not to put their trust in an unknown to-morrow.

We know not what a day may bring forth. Behind the dark curtains of the future, to-morrow lies concealed. She is travailing in birth; and what shall her offspring bel Whether weal or woe, whether sickness or health, whether prolonged probation in this life or quick removal to the judgment-seat, is unknown and undiscoverable. “We all do fade as a leaf.” And how does a leal fade ] Two main features characterize the manner of its fall — certainty and uncertainty. In one aspect nothing is more fixed, and in another nothing more fluctuating. All those myriads that now glitter in the sunshine or flutter in the breeze will be strewn on the ground ere the year die out; but when this one shall fall, and how long that one shall hang, no tongue can tell. One falls Biiiitten by a mildew soon after it has burst from the bud in spring; a second is withered by a worm at its root in early summer; a third is shaken off by a boisterous wind; and a fourth is nipped by frost in autumn. In what part of the year any leaf will drop Is wholly uncertain; that all will be down ere the year be over is absolutely sure. We may see in this fragile mirror the reflection of our own frailty. The generation now living will in a few years be all beneath the dust; but the departure of each is as uncertain as the dropping of the leaves. Some drop in childhood’s spring, some in the bloom of youth, some in the maturity of manhood, and some hang on till the winter of age arrives. These two things are terribly clear — the time is short to all, and the short time is uncertain to each.

An artist solicited permission to paint a portrait of the Queen. The favour was granted — and the favour was great, for probably it would make the fortune of the man. A place was fixed, and a time. At the fixed place and time the Queen appeared; but the artist was not there, — he was not ready yet. When he did arrive, a message was communicated to him that her Majesty had departed, and would not return. Such is the tale: we have no means of verifying its accuracy; but its moral is not dependent on its truth. If it is not a history, let it serve as a parable; such a disappointment might spring from such a cause. Translate it from the temporal into the eternal; employ the earthly type to print a heavenly lesson.

The King Eternal consented to meet man. He fixed in his covenant and proclaimed in his word the object, and the place, and the time of the meeting. It is for salvation; it is in Christ; it is now. The “faithful Creator” has been true to his own appointment. He came, not to condemn, but to save; He came in Christ, God manifest in the flesh. He waits now to embrace returning prodigals. If they abide among their husks to-day, and come running and panting to-morrow, they may find that the door of mercy is shut, and the day of redemption past. Have you felt a fainting of heart and a bitterness of spirit when, after much preparation for an important journey, you arrived at the appointed place, and found that the ship or train by which you intended to travel had gone with all who were ready at the appointed time, and left you behind? Can you multiply finitude by infinitude? Can you conceive the dismay which will fill your soul if you come too late to the closed door of heaven, and begin the hopeless cry, “Lord, Lord, open to us?”

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