The Road to Salvation

“Who then can be saved?... With men it is impossible but not with God; for with God all things are possible.”^ Mark x. 26, 27.

And so we are nearer to salvation in the hands of God than in the hands of man! I used to think the reverse. I used to think that the awful thing about the judgment-seat was the sinless character of the Judge. Our Lord knew better. He told men to be thankful that the throne of judgment was white. He said that worldly people would have no chance if they were brought before a worldly tribunal. Man cannot see the possibilities of man. He beholds the flood, but not the rainbow. God alone can see the rainbow in my flood. My brother shuts the door of his heart early. Whenever it begins to be dusk, he closes the gates of his pity. But my

Father keeps His gates open till midnight on the chance of the prodigal’s return. He is ever calling through the darkness, Watchman, what of the night? ‘’ He is ever listening in the shadows for the tread of my returning footsteps. He is ever stretching a hand through time “to catch the far-off interest of tears.” He can hear my faintest murmur of unrest. He can catch my softest sigh of penitence. He can feel the smallest throb of my heart. He can detect the lowest breathing of my spirit. For my brother it would be impossible to hear anything, to feel anything, to hope anything. He would look at me and say that I was dead; my Father would say, “Behold, he prayeth!”

O Thou on whose white apparel no stain has ever fallen, I come to Thee. I stand before Thy judgment throne in preference to the judgment throne of man. I seek it because it is white; it is its spotlessness that makes me hope. I pass by all other thrones but Thine. I pass the martyrs and apostles. I pass the angel and the archangel. I pass the cherub and seraph. I pause not in my flight till I reach the blaze of Thy purity; and on the steps of Thy altar I lay my burden down. Only Thou art worthy to open the book of my life. Seal it from all others, O my Father! Let it not be read in any light but Thine! Unto Thee I lift up my soul. I make my appeal from Felix unto Caesar; unto Caesar shall I go. In the light of Thy morning alone let the blots of my record be seen! Unto whom shall I go but unto Thee! My brother is an alarmist; he has not the words of Everlasting Life; he deems it impossible I should recover. But with Thee there is hope even in the grave; to the Great Physician all things are possible.