THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
1. Mr. World and Miss Church-Member getting farther from the light.
2. They drift into the deepening shadows where the path could be
traveled only one way.
3. The terrible experience of the two companions contending with the
imps of the dark valley.
4. Their sad and tragic end as they catch a glimpse of what they might
have been.
After leaving the place of the Last Warning, the Broad Highway grew
darker and darker as it steadily diverged from the King’s Highway.
The little light that Satan’s pilgrims do enjoy is borrowed from “the
path of the just that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.”
Mr. World saw the deepening shadows and endeavored to be as cheerful
as usually, hoping thereby to prevent any alarm in the mind of his
faithful friend.
The path, though wide, was now steeply descending, and travelers often
slipped on the steeper inclines.
I saw that the two companions descended with difficulty, cautiously
watching every footstop, lest they, like many others, should fall to
their hurt. They now gave but little attention to the things along the
way, and when they did pause for rest on the easier grades, they found
the meadows more barren and everything more dark and dank.
Miss Church-Member had been painfully conscious of these unhappy
contrasts, and asked repeatedly the meaning of all that her eyes beheld
and her heart realized, but Mr. World, true to his nature, partly
allayed her fears with words of hope and glowing promises.
But I heard her again ask with a quivering voice: “Where is the light
that so lately lent its blessed cheer, and whither go we stumbling
downward in the dark?”
“We only go in the darkest hour that comes before the dawn,” he said
with a firm voice but a trembling heart. “Be hopeful, my dear, I will
not forsake you.”
Her heart was not calmed, for she could see his distress which he had
hoped to conceal, and no one could minimize the surrounding scenes
which now seemed like omens of death.
They stood still, and learned, upon inquiry, that they were standing
in the Shadows of Premonition.
Mr. World could no longer endure the strain. His bold attitude gave
way to his rising fears, for he saw that his wasted life was ending
with no opportunity of redeeming its days. His whole body quivered as
they walked still farther in a desperate effort to find relief.
Miss Church-Member was almost overcome as she continued looking upon
the ominous darkness around. She soon realized that her only refuge
whom she had seized by the arm proved miserably weak in this hour of
great need.
“Oh! Mr. World,” she cried, in utmost agony of mind, “where have you
led me? Save me ere I perish!”
He spoke not, but with his aspen fingers he pointed backward toward
the sloping Highway. Then with all eagerness they endeavored to retrace
their steps, but somehow they could do no more than stumble and fall,
and when they were making their most desperate effort to return they
heard a voice from someone invisible. This voice announced to them
that here the path could be traveled only one way. The same voice urged
them to push through the shadows and face their end like heroes. At
this their hope died within them, and they had no more courage to
struggle up the hill. They stood again in their wretched dilemma and
heard the sound of distant waters, doleful to their ears, and from
this they could distinguish the bitter wails of those who also found
that they could not return.
Mr. World and Miss Church-Member cast their eyes heavenward and
discerned that they were standing in a very deep valley. _They saw the
dim outlines of all their past evil life. Their deeds stretched away
at interminable length, and in the aggregate they were piled, like
ledge upon ledge, until they verily shut out the mercy of a just God._
Here they stood in the first shadow of their self-constructed Hell.
“Oh, what a valley!” shrieked Miss Church-Member, as her consciousness
now revealed to her more in one second than all the fanciful dreams
of a life-time evolved.
And Mr. World was undone. He knew not which way to turn. He was
speechless as he saw so clearly the worthless product of his life’s
work almost overarching him.
Finally Mr. World cried out excitedly: “If we cannot go back, neither
will we go forward!”
Then a grim monster spoke in a slow, dead tone: “No one remaineth here;
away, away from this place!”
Miss Church-Member was terrorized at the presence of so cold a creature
and frantically cried out: “I cannot and will not endure it! Can I not
go back to the Voice of Warning?”
“Back? Never! No one who comes thus far ever goes back. During the
earthly life of one called Jesus there was but one snatched from these
lowlands, and he was the thief on the cross.”
“If there was chance for a thief, there might be hope for me,” she
sighed as her wretched face brightened.
“Hope for you?” repeated the cold-hearted monster. “None whatever, and
for none of your kind who come thus far. Pass on, make room for the
thousands coming this way, the sound of whose tread you already hear.”
Looking at Mr. World she pitifully sobbed: “Why do you not help me?
You have brought me here; plead my cause.”
“Alas, I cannot even plead my own!” He could say no more, for he took
a longing glance backward, over the hills of time, where he could truly
see, for the first time, the horrible depth of his folly.
Then came the monstrous creature again and sternly commanded them:
“Tarry no more on this side of the river’s brink.”
[Illustration: Struggling with the real and imaginary imps near the
Black River in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.]
They tasted the bitter fruits of opportunities lost, and felt the awful
pangs of a soul without hope as their reluctant footsteps carried them
on through the valley made dark by the shadow of their own deeds.
I then heard the discordant and agonizing wails of poor Miss
Church-Member and her wretched companion; but the sounds fell
harmoniously on the ears of Satan who listened to them chiming with
the music of Hell, in its deathlike rhythm, as it reverberated forever
from the depth beyond them, and from the throngs passing by.
Miss Church-Member could no longer hold fast to Mr. World. It took
both arms to contend with the real and imaginary imps who stood grinning
at her folly, and grievously tormented her from all sides.
“O mercy! mercy! Where am I?” she shrieked. “How can you be so
heartless, Mr. World? Why not rid me of these fiends?”
“Cry to me no more!” he groaned out in anguish. “I am also overwhelmed
with foes and fears that verily drag me down with infernal and
relentless grasp.”
This only deepened her pathetic cry, for she saw that she was lost
forever, and realized anew that Mr. World was unable to give help,
contrary to all his promises of the past.
Then did, they look forth, and beheld afar off the Valley of the Shadow
of Death through which the King’s Highway passed. They saw that its
foot-sore pilgrims leaned upon a rod and staff, and that they were
supported by the pierced hands of a Friend that sticketh closer than
a brother.
Neither did the pilgrims fear any evil nor tremble at any foe, for
Christ was their all in all, and his lovely light lit the whole valley
until it was all aglow with heavenly radiance.
This vision revealed to Mr. World and Miss Church-Member the place
where _they_ might have been, and pierced their hearts as with a
thousand daggers.
They soon stood on the verge of the Awful River which was filled with
the filth and slimy putrefaction of the world, the fungus growth of
society, and the scum of all nationalities. From these currents came
unearthly sounds, doleful lamentations, melancholy and hopeless.
Not far down the stream they saw the fitful light of an eternal burning
whose ghastly glare lit the water crests of the Black River.
I saw a relentless monster, in deep silence, stretching forth his bony
arm, and with his icy fingers he pushed the two companions from the
brink of the river, thus bringing them face to face with the last enemy
whose sharp sting they felt as they were being overwhelmed by the
merciless waves.
[Illustration: When they who journey on the King’s Highway reach the
River of Death, they are met by a convoy of angels and borne aloft to
the gates of the Celestial City.]
Their heart-rending cries for mercy brought no relief. They had sinned
against all light, and had even spurned the last kindly warning. The
Door of Hope was shut forever.
As they were sinking to rise no more they caught another vision of the
Shining Pilgrims of the King’s Highway, and saw that when they reached
the brink of the River of Death they were met by a convoy of angels,
on whose snowy pinions they were borne aloft to the very gates of the
Celestial City which apparently stood on white clouds.
THE END