Rescuing the Lost

A FEW months since two American vessels set off from one of our sea-ports on a long and adventurous voyage. They were manned by bold and fearless seamen; by men in the prime of their vigor, and in the fresh ecthusiasm of youth. A little while before, other vessels, freighted in the same manner for a protracted cruise, had shaken out their sails and unmoored from the British ports. They had all turned their bows in the same direction, and bore up towards the Polar seas. The same errand took them all, and in months past had called forth

Others still, who had gone below the horizoD, and never yet returned. And what was the object of that bold adventure? Have they committed themselves to the perils of those howling seas, for the lust of gold? Have they gone for the Polar furs, or the spoils of the Northern fisheries? Was it a battle-fleet, well manned for slaughter and for victory? Was it even an expedition for scientific exploration — to determine a magnetic pole, or find out the long-sought North- West passage?

No! No! For an object vastly higher and nobler than any selfish scheme of gain, or glory, have they gone. It is an errand of mercy on which they sally forth in defiance of tempest and of iceberg. That fleet — like the squadrons which encircled the shores of famine-stricken Ireland in her hour of misery — is a fleet of immanity. It goes not out armed with murderous guns, to destroy, but with food and raiment, with chart and compass, to rescue and restore. It goes to seek, and (if possible) to save — to “save the lost.” The whole heart of the civilized world had throbbed with anxiety for Sir John Franklin, and his long-absent crew. One noble woman’s heart — Grod grant not yet a widow’s heart! has touched all the rest with the magnetism of kindred sympathy. Christian philanthropy responds to these generous impulses, and fits out her squadrons to seek and to save the lost.

Now there is no one who does not sympathize with that enterprise of moral grandeur — no one who does not feel for those lost men, and applaud the heroic philanthropy which risks so much to save them. But have you forgotten that another expedition was once undertaken on a far nobler, far grander, far holier errand of compassion? Not to save one commander and his crew, but to save an imperilled world! Not to save the countless multitude from physical death, but from an eternal death — a death that never dies. Not to bring them back to human homes and kindred, but to a celestial home — a home in the Paradise of God. This expedition that I am speaking of, was not undertaken by a whole company of men to rescue their fellow-men, but by one Personage to rescue His own rebellious enemies. Not to endure the physical hardships of one Arctic winter did He come, but to endure the sorrows of a whole life of suffering; nor was it with the mere rish of death as in the case of our philanthropists, but with the actual and expectant certainty of dying an ignominious death for those whom he came to 2”

seek, and save. And when men came

around Him with their sneers, and scoffs,

and wished to know who He. was, and

what brought Him among them. He gave

them back the glorious answer —” The

Son of Man is come to seek, and to save

the lost!”

Carry your minds forward to the consummation of the magnificent scheme of grace. — The success of the Polar expedition for the lost mariners you can imagine. What a sight would it be to behold the gallant Franklin and his comrades, marched once more through London’s streets — all there — all safe — all well — the faces of many weather-beaten tars streaming with tears of joy! What a peal of welcome would greet thm, and with what huzzas would their bold deliverers be hailed from every window and every crowded house-top! But what is such a scene compared with the triumphant entry of the ransomed Church of Christ through the flashing streets of the New Jerusalem!” Listen to the hallelujahpeals of joy as they pass along, a multitude that no man can number. One song animates and fires them all! Listen to it as the far-off wave of melody rolls on — “WoETHY IS THE Lamb!” And then, as it comes nearer, we hear the whole “heavenly oratorio,” with its myriads of voices — “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive wisdom, and power, and riches, and honor, and blessing. Unto Him that loved us, and gave Himself for us, be the glory and the dominion, forever!”