In this early morning hour thoughts are coming to my mind of poor souls lost in the dark and gloomy night of sin. My heart is eager and restless to save some. I have this moment a vision of a soul in hell. It is seeking for water to cool its parched lips, but it finds none. It is seeking and crying for a place of rest, but there is no place of rest there. It is hissed at by tormenting demons. It is writhing and groaning in its misery. It is wailing and gnashing its teeth. The flames are burning it, but never consuming. It is roaming about in the blackness of darkness. It is pointing its finger back to earth to a saint and saying, “If you had been a faithful, zealous Christian I should not have been here. If you had warned me of this awful place I should not have come. I have spent many hours with you talking over the secular affairs of life, but you never warned me of hell.”
To another it is saying, “You could have sent a preacher to me to tell me of Jesus who died to save and whom I shall now never, no never, see; but you spent your money in buying a few more acres of land. Ah, that bit of land is the price of my eternally doomed soul! May the God whose grace I failed to find be gracious to you.”
To a third he is pointing and saying, “I should have heard and heeded the gospel call if it had only come on the printed page. If you had sent me a tract or book or paper my soul would now be shouting praise to my dear Savior in heaven instead of shrieking in hell. But you spent your money for things to eat and wear that you could have well done without, and for luxuries; and when the reduced offer was made on the paper you had no money to spare. Your luxuries are my damnation. Your feasting is the price of my poor soul. May the Lord be merciful to thee.”
Dearly beloved saints, let us be up and doing. There may be some soul in hell saying this of you this moment. I wonder if any are saying it of me. May God forgive if there are. Let the future find us more diligent in the service of God. I have tried to be faithful, but I could possibly have done more. Time is fast passing away. The day of judgement is approaching rapidly. Let us gather souls for Jesus. Oh, how men will labor to gain earthly things! They will toil early and late; they will face the wind and storm of rite things of this life, but where are the toilers for souls? Where are those who are brain the storms and enduring the blast of bitter winds seeking for those lambs astray?
Make use of the time now in sending the Trumpet to hungry hearts. Now is a good time to practice self-denial. Look about and see if there is not something you could sell and with the money send the Trumpet to a number of readers. It ,ay buy a soul for heaven. Just ten cents may save a soul. Can you not take and solicit subscriptions? At least you can doubt there are many saints who can send the Trumpet ten weeks to one thousand. Then there are many who can send it to no more than one hundred, but there are very few, who, if they will practice some self-denial, can no send it to ten. I pray that a special effort will be put forth at this time. It may be our last opportunity.
The thing with the Trumpet is though that the souls were “won” by confrontation with the truth. And after that initial confrontation, they were continually fed that same truth. Always equipped, questions were answered, testimonies were spoken, encouragement abounded. The Trumpet wasn’t just a pamphlet, it was an endeavor to bring the truth to all who would hear it. And to celebrate the heralds and the heralded.
