No. XIV. THE STORM. * THOU HAST BEEN A STRENGTH TO THE POOR, A STRENGTH TO THE NEEDY IN HIS DISTRESS, A RE- Isaiah, xxv. 4. No man has long been at sea without experiencing what the landsman calls tempests and storms; and those who have navigated foreign seas, and been accustomed to distant voyages, have often witnessed what no mere resident on shore can form any adequate idea of, the gathering darkness and wild confusion of a tempest-driven sky, torn asunder only to make way for fresh discharges of lightning, and stronger howlings of the wind; the thunder rolling through the vault of heaven, and shaking the trembling masts, down to the very keels of the labouring vessel. The mountain waves, piling on each other, rushing forward, and sounding the very knell of death, as they break, and half bury the restless bark in their dreary foam. The sails blowing from the yards, the yards themselves gone in the slings; the masts, perhaps, plunging over the side, and carrying part of the hapless crew with them into the merciless deep. The groaning wreck rolling ungovernable in the trough of the sea-the leaks increasing, and gaining on the crew-the chain pumps sending forth their dismal clanking sound-and, above all, a frightful lee shore, stretching itself within view, and every hour becoming more and more distinct, frowning only death on all who approach it. These are scenes on which poets have often written, and orators have harangued their audience; but they are scenes which neither poets nor orators can describe as they really appear to those, who themselves go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters. These men do, indeed, "see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep." Oh, that they were but more inclined to acknowledge his hand, and fear his power, to seek his blessing, and to love and believe in his Son Jesus Christ! Surely it is no discredit for the bravest seaman to confess, that his heart has often sickened within him, while his hands have still perseveringly laboured through these almost hopeless and melancholy scenes. The Lord has a voice that will be heard when he "thun ders in the excellency of his power;" nor did I ever see that wretch who was hardy enough to call on God with execrations while the thunder rolled in his ears, and the vivid lightning was passing before his eyes. On the contrary, I have noticed, that those who were at other times altogether strangers to thoughtfulness and reflection, were at these seasons serious, sensible men. At these times they have been ready to allow, "There is a God that reigns above, Lord of the heav'ns, and earth, and seas:" at these moments they have seemed half disposed, To" fear his wrath, to ask his love, And with their lips to sing his praise." And now, reader, if you can find a profane infidel, whether officer or foremast man, who pretends that he never had such feelings on such occasions, that he never did, nor ever will, tremble at the sounding thunder in the skies, or the roaring breaking surf, or a lee shore, I will at once pronounce such person an enemy to truth, a fool, or a madman. It is not in the power of unregenerate nature, to view such scenes as these with stoical composure and indifference; and none can contemplate such deaths with calmness and serenity, but men of strong grace, who have a well grounded hope that Christ Jesus has pardoned their sins, that the eternal God is their reconciled Father, and, that the hour which throws their breathless corpse on the deadly rock, will convey their happy liberated spirit into Abraham's bosom. And this hope, this confidence, no infidel nor profane character ever did, nor ever will, possess. There is no such peace as this, saith our God, to the wicked. Their souls are like the troubled ocean, never at rest. But it is not only in the confused elements of this lower world, that there are storms and tempests. These things exist, though in another form, in the spiritual world. There are tempestuous seasons in the life of a Christian pilgrim. There are storms and conflicts in his bosom to which the ungodly part of the world are entire strangers; yes, it may truly be said, that all who have for any length of time been navigating this restless dangerous sea of life, as Christians, have, in their conflicts with their own hearts, with the world, and with the mighty powers of darkness, had real experience, that, 66 through much tribulation we must enter the kingdom of heaven." It sometimes falls to the lot of those who fear the Lord, and obey the voice of his servants, to walk in darkness, and have little or no light: for a season their course leads them through gloomy deserts, and thence into the mire and clay; at other times they seem to be sinking in the deep waters, and all the storms and waves of an angry ocean appear to go over their souls. They look to heaven, but clouds and darkness are round about the Almighty's throne; they see nothing but supposed tokens of anger, and signs of his threatening judgment. The thunders of his righteous violated law shake them. The lightnings and arrows of vindictive justice make them afraid, All their efforts seem useless; the storm yet increases, and hope sickens, and almost expires. Then it is, that the yawning grave begins to shout, victory! victory! Then it is, that death has an envenomed sting, and heaven is beheld as a coast, whose ports are shut against their entrance; as a shore where they are to be wrecked, and not saved! Of these things the thoughtless children of the world may sometimes have heard, and sometimes they may have talked about them; but still they do not, cannot, understand them, till actual experience has taught the otherwise incommunicable lesson.* * The writer wishes it to be understood, that he does not consider it absolutely necessary unto salvation, that all Christians, or even any one, should be led through these deep waters to Christ as their refuge, |