CHAPTER XXV.

THE SHUTTING OF DOORS.

"Never delay

To do the duty which the hour brings,

Whatever it be in great or smaller things;

For who doth know

What he shall do the coming day?"

The shutting of a door is a little thing and yet it may have infinite

meaning. It may fix a destiny for weal or for woe. When God shut the

door of the ark the sound of its closing was the knell of exclusion to

those who were without, but it was the token of security to the little

company of trusting ones who were within. When the door was shut upon

the bridegroom and his friends who had gone into the festal hall, thus

sheltering them from the night's darkness and danger, and shutting them

in with joy and gladness, there were those outside to whose hearts the

closing of that door smote despair and woe. To them it meant hopeless

exclusion from all the privileges of those who were within and exposure

to all the sufferings and perils from which those favored ones were

protected.

Here we have hints of what may come from the closing of a door. Life

is full of illustrations. We are continually coming up to doors which

stand open for a little while and then are shut. An artist has tried

to teach this in a picture. Father Time is there with inverted

hour-glass. A young man is lying at his ease on a luxurious couch,

while beside him is a table spread with rich fruits and viands.

Passing by him toward an open door are certain figures which represent

opportunities; they come to invite the young man to nobleness, to

manliness, to usefulness, to worth. First is a rugged, sun-browned

form, carrying a flail. This is labor. He invites the youth to toil.

He has already passed far by unheeded. Next is a philosopher, with

open book, inviting the young man to thought and study, that he may

master the secrets in the mystic volume. But this opportunity, too, is

disregarded. The youth has no desire for learning. Close behind the

philosopher comes a woman with bowed form, carrying a child. Her dress

betokens widowhood and poverty. Her hand is stretched out appealingly.

She craves charity. Looking closely at the picture we see that the

young man holds money in his hand. But he is clasping it tightly, and

the poor widow's pleading is in vain. Still another figure passes,

endeavoring to lure and woo him from his idle ease. It is the form of

a beautiful woman, who seeks by love to awaken in him noble purposes,

worthy of his powers, and to inspire him for ambitious efforts. One by

one these opportunities have passed, with their calls and invitations,

only to be unheeded. At last he is arousing to seize them, but it is

too late; they are vanishing from sight and the door is closing.

This is a true picture of what is going on all the time in this world.

Opportunities come to every young person, offering beautiful things,

rich blessings, brilliant hopes. Too often, however, these offers and

solicitations are rejected and one by one pass by, to return no more.

Door after door is shut, and at last men stand at the end of their

days, with beggared lives, having missed all that they might have

gotten of enrichment and good from the passing days.

Take home. A true Christian home, with its love and prayer and all its

gentle influences, is almost heaven to a child. The fragrance of the

love of Christ fills all the household life. Holiness is in the very

atmosphere. The benedictions of affection make every day tender with

its impressiveness. In all life there come no other such opportunities

for receiving lovely things into the life, and learning beautiful

lessons, as in the days of childhood and youth that are spent in a home

of Christian love. Yet how often are all these influences resisted and

rejected. Then by and by the door is shut. The heart that made the

home is still in death. The gentle hand that wrought such blessing is

cold. Many a man in mid-life would give all he has to creep back for

one hour to the old sacred place, to hear again his mother's voice in

counsel or in prayer, to feel once more the gentle touch of her hand

and to have her sweet comfort. But it is too late. The door is shut.

Take education. Many young people fail to realize what golden

opportunities come to them in their school-days. Too often they make

little of the privileges they then enjoy. They sometimes waste in

idleness the hours they ought to spend in diligent study and helpful

reading. They might, if they would, fit themselves for high and

honorable places in after years; but they let the days pass with their

opportunities. By and by they hear the school door shut. Then, all

through their years they move with halting step, with dwarfed life,

with powers undeveloped, unable to accept the higher places that might

have been theirs if they had been prepared for them, failing often in

duties and responsibilities--all because in youth they wasted their

school-days and did not seize the opportunities that then came to them

for preparation. Napoleon, when visiting his old school, said to the

pupils, "Boys, remember that every hour wasted at school means a chance

of misfortune in future life." Thousands of failures along the years

of manhood and womanhood attest the truth of this monition.

Friendship is another opportunity that offers great blessing. Before

every young person stand two kinds of friends, ever reaching out a

beckoning hand. The one class whisper of pleasures that lead to sin

and debasement. They offer the young man the wine-glass, the

gambling-table, the gratification of lust and passion. They offer the

young woman flattery, gay dress, the dance, pleasures that will tarnish

her womanly purity. We all know the end of such friendship.

But there is another class of friends who stand before young people,

wooing them to noble things. They may be plain, perhaps homely, almost

stern in their earnestness of purpose and in the seriousness with which

they talk of life. They call to toil, to diligence, to self-denial, to

heroic qualities of character, to purity, to usefulness, to "whatsoever

things are true, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are

honorable, whatsoever things are lovely." It is impossible to

overstate the value of the blessings that true, wise, and worthy

friendship offers to the young. It seeks to incite and stimulate them

to their best in character and achievement. It would lift them up to

lofty attainment, to splendid victoriousness. The young people to whom

comes the offer of such friendship are most highly favored.

But how often do we see the blessing rejected for the solicitation of

mere idle pleasures that bring no true good, that entangle the life in

all manner of complications, that lead into the ways of temptation, and

that too often end in disaster and sorrow.

There is a time for the choosing of friends, and when that time is

passed and the choice has been made, the door is shut. Then it is too

late to go back. There are many people in mid-life, bound now in the

chains of evil companionships, who would give all they have for the

sweet delights and pure pleasures of friendship which once might have

been theirs, which in youth reached out to them in vain white hands of

importunity and blessing. But it is too late; the door is shut.

So it is with the opportunities of doing good to others, comforting,

helping, cheering, lightening burdens, giving gladness and joy. We

stand continually before open doors which we do not enter. Ofttimes we

shrink with timid feeling from the sweet ministry, holding back the

sympathetic word or restraining ourselves from the doing of the gentle

kindness, thinking our proffer of love might be unwelcome. Or we do

not perceive the opportunity to give a blessing. This is true very

often, especially in the closer and more tender intimacies of life. We

do not recognize the heart-hunger in our loved ones, and we walk with

them day by day, failing to help them in the thousand ways in which we

might help them, until they are gone from us and the door is shut.

Then all we can do is to bear the pain of regret, having only the hope

that in some way in the life beyond, we may be able to pay--though so

late--love's debt.

"How will it be

When you at last in heaven we see--

Dear souls, whose footsteps in lost days

Made musical earth's toil-worn ways,

While we not half the loneliness

That bound you to our side could guess?

Where angels know your footfall we

Are fain to be.

"We never knew--

So heedlessly we walked with you--

The drops we jostled from your cup,

That spilt, could not be gathered up;

We might have given you foam and glow

From our own beaker's overflow;

Ah! what we might have been to you

We never knew.

"We might have lent

Such strength, such comfort and content

To you, out of our ample store;

We might have hastened on before

To lift the shadows from your way,

Darkened, ere noon, to twilight's gray;

With earth's chilled air love's warm heart-scent

We might have blent.

"Dear, wistful eyes,

Ye haunt us with your kind surprise,

Your tender wonder that a heart

Should thus be left alone, apart,

So loving, so misunderstood

By us, in our self-centred mood:

Alas! in vain to you arise

Our longing cries.

"Oh, will you wait

For us beyond the shining gate?

Though lovely gifts behind you left,

We want yourselves; we are bereft.

From your new mansion glorious

Will you lean out to look for us?

Shut is the far-off, shining gate--

Are we too late?"

These are but illustrations. The same is true in all phases of life.

Every day doors are opened for us which we do not enter. For a little

time they stand open with bidding and welcome, and then they are

closed, to be opened no more forever. To every one of us along our

years there come opportunities, which, if accepted and improved, would

fit us for worthy character, and for noble, useful living, and lead us

in due time to places of honor and blessing. But how many of us there

are who reject these opportunities and lose the good they brought for

us from God! Then one by one the doors are shut, cutting off the

proffered favors while we go on unblessed.

There is another closing of doors which is even sadder than any of

those which have been suggested. There is a shutting of our own

heart's door upon God himself. He stands at our gate and knocks and

there are many who never open to him at all, and many more who open the

door but slightly. The latter, while they may receive blessing, yet

miss the fulness of divine revealing which would flood their souls with

love; the former miss altogether the sweetest benediction of life.

"He that shuts Love out in turn shall be

Shut out from Love, and on his threshhold lie

Howling in outer darkness. Nor for this

Was common clay made from the common earth,

Moulded by God and tempered with the tears

Of angels to the perfect shape of man."

This sad sound of closing doors, as it falls day after day upon our

soul's ears, proclaims to us continually that something which was ours,

which was sent to us from God, and for which we shall have to answer in

judgment, is ours no longer, is shut away forever from our grasp. It

is a sad picture--the five virgins standing at midnight before a closed

door through which they might have entered to great joy and honor, but

which to all their wild importunity will open no more. It is sad, yet

many of us are likewise standing before closed doors, doors that once

stood open to us, but into which we entered not, languidly loitering

outside until the sound of the shutting fell upon our ear as the knell

of hopeless exclusion:--

"Too late! Too late! Ye cannot enter now!"

Of course the past is irreparable and irrevocable, and it may seem idle

to vex ourselves in thinking about doors now closed, that no tears, no

prayers, no loud knockings, can ever open again. Yes; yet the future

remains. The years that are gone we cannot get back again, but new

years are yet before us. They too will have their open doors. Shall

we not learn wisdom as we look back upon the irrevocable past and make

sure that in the future we shall not permit God's doors of opportunity

to shut in our faces?

Making the Most of Life · 第 25 / 25 章