Difference between revisions of "MEDITATION XXV."
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Latest revision as of 17:12, 5 January 2020
MEDITATION XXV.
ON THE BLOWING UP OF A SHIP.
Many are the appearances which death puts on, and in everyone of them death is dreadful. Sometimes his commission bears him to lay siege to the clay-walls for a long time, and to waste them away with a lingering consumption; and then he steals on them so insensibly, that they still entertain hopes of recovery, and believe themselves better a day or two before death. At one time he comes in flames of fire, at another time in swelling floods; and at another time, by a sudden stroke, he sweeps the man at once off the stage!
Though fire is terrible anywhere, yet much more so when the burning pile is surrounded by a boundless sea. It is, no doubt, a moving sight, to see a naked family, with wringing hands, and weeping eyes, deplore their all in flames!
A family at home, just alarmed out of their midnight sleep, by the doleful cries of affrighted spectators, with no more than time to escape the burning blaze! However, by the assistance of water-engines, and a thousand friendly hands, the fire is got under control, and half the house is saved. Or, should all the house be consumed, they are still happy in the possession of life, and the charity of well disposed Christians.
But the scene alters at sea, and is much more dismal, as the ship I speak of felt. Strong and well equipped, the glory of the fleet, she spread the pompous sails, suspended by the lofty masts, divided the rolling billows with the nimble keel, was abundant in men and officers, and waved the honorary flag from the highest top. But, all at once, while no danger is dreamed of, and at noon, a fire starts below, too far advanced to be got under control, too terrible to be beheld without trembling. It kindles fear in every bosom, and nothing can be done. Signals of distress are fired—but only a poor merchant ship comes to her assistance; yet dares not come too near, for fear of catching fire herself. The fire rages still, and it is strange, in the midst of water, to perish by fire. Were the oceans a plain, with what cheerfulness would they flee the fire, and see the last plank in flames! But, death, gaping from the hollow waves, forbids them to flee, and every moment they expect to be blown into the air, and strewed in mangled legs and arms along the briny deep.
What confusion and disarray! what feeble hands! what fainting hearts! what struggling thoughts! what staring eyes! what screams and cries! The ship's sides are lined with those hoping for deliverance. They look every way—but in vain, for relief. One boat only appears, which dares not come along-side; yet many take the desperate leap, and falling short of the boat, plunge into the sea, and are seen no more, a terrifying sight to all behind! Still the fire increases. Death is in the waters, death is in the fires; it pursues behind, attacks before, and hedges in on every side!
Old and young, who had survived the day of battle, are, in this melancholy manner, and on so short a warning, hurried into the eternal world. The flames grow more furious, and on all sides lifeless bodies float around, a sad sight to surviving friends! Her own boats carry off a few men—but find not the way back again. At length, the masts break down, destroying numbers as they fall, and officers die undistinguished in the throng; while the admiral, stripped of his uniform, hanging by an oar, struggles for life on the liquid wave. Many attempt to save themselves on pieces of the wreck, while the remains of the ship sink out of sight. But the angry waves wash them off their last relief, and they perish in the deep waters. Yet, mercy shines in the midst of shipwreck and death, for many escape with their life, though deprived of everything else. (The ship alluded to, was Admiral Broderick's, which blew up in the Straits of Gibraltar.)
O! strange to tell, will we leave with all that we have, for a few days, or a few years of our natural life; and yet leave with nothing at all for eternal life and endless glory? And, if fire which can be extinguished with water, or burn away to lifeless ashes, is so terrible; what must the fire of infinite wrath be—which shall burn up the wicked forever? Finally, since my situation is the same, may I study to prepare for death at any time, and in any shape; then I shall face the flames, yes, fall into them, knowing, that my immortal soul, from these devouring fires—shall rise to celestial glory, to live many thousands of eternities, and never, never die.