Meditations 61 to 90
Meditation LXI.
ON GOING INTO HARBOR.
Nov. 5, 1758.
One would think that when the tempests and the dangers of the sea are over, all were safe; and that in sight of land we would laugh at shipwreck. Yet the experience of thousands, attest, that on coasts more ships are lost than at sea. And so the Government has prudently appointed pilots to bring in British ships, that they may be in no danger while coming into harbor.
Now, what may this remind us of, but that the saints, and such as look for an happy anchoring in the port of bliss, should be very careful how they steer the last part of their long and momentous voyage; how they enter the 'harbor of death'—where their ship is to be laid up, not for a winter, but forever! They are to beware that they do not stick on the sands of 'carnal security'; or run into the shallow waters of 'lukewarm indifference'; or be blown on the rocks of 'false confidence'—by the high winds of spiritual delusion. A mistake here may occasion damage, but, though it cost expenses, may be mended.
But among men, a mistake at death is fatal, and of the greatest consequence, because it can never be mended afterwards. Again, the tide is a mighty assistant in our getting into harbor here; but to dying mortals, the Jordan of death is a terrible river, which overflows all its banks; and it is the fear of dissolution that keeps some all their lifetime subject to bondage. Yes, and by this current, thousands and ten thousands are hurried into the horrid pit of perdition. But in a surprising manner the saints go over dry shod; for the High Priest, who bears the ark of the everlasting covenant, and all the rich grace and precious promises that it contains, having that river to wade through which runs in the way of all living; once did so, with the soles of his feet, when he was found in fashion as a man, and humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross—so that it remains still cut in two to the saints—even while it overflows all its banks to the wicked.
The more we advance into the earthly harbor, the more we are out of danger from the storms and tempests that sweep along the ruffled ocean. But it is otherwise with the dying saint; Satan does all he can to cloud his evidences, to deaden his faith, to blacken his infirmities, to make him doubt his own condition, to misname his graces, to slay his confidence, to draw him away from Christ, and drive him into despair—anxious to make a wreck of him even in sight of Immanuel's shore.
Yet all the powers of hell shall never pluck the least of Christ's little ones out of his hand. But how watchful should we be, and how careful to prepare for these critical moments! for we are like a ship that has traded for a long time in the East-Indies, and comes borne with all her treasures; so our all, our everlasting all, is lost if we sink at last. However, our safety lies in this alone—that he whose presence calms the raging sea, and fierce winds—shall be our pilot to the harbor of the better country—to the port of glory!
Back to THE TRAVELER