SUNDAY READING.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 5758, 1 May 1880, Page 7

SUNDAY READING.

A BASKET OF SUMMER FRUIT. BY THE REV. DR. TALMAGE. "And He said, Amos, what seest thou? And I wld, a basket of flumm-r fruit."—Amos vili. 2. A STOUT-CHESTED, swarthy-limbed, bravehearted man was called, out to rebuke Israel. His name was Amos. He had been brought up amid sheep and cattle, and in addition to his occupation as herdsman, he had the business of gathering sycamore fruit—a very difficult business, because, i£ the fruit were not properly ripened, and just before its maturing it .were not pricked with the teeth of an iron comb, then the fruit would be bitter and thoroughly unpalatable. Havin" always lived in the country, when Amos comes to write or to speak, all his allusions are rural—full of threshing-floor, and sheafladen carts, and grasshoppers, and mowings, and orchards, and vineyards, and, in my text, "a basket of summer fruit." Just what kind of fruit this was I do not know, whether sycamore fruit, pomegranates, or figs; but Ido know that God meant for Israel, and means to-night for ns, the truth that spiritual blessing, like summer fruit, must be used immediately, or it will perish. JLait week I saw farmersoutonLong island; gathering their winter apples ; and if these apples are carefully put away they will last until next spring. You know there are pears which are better two or three months after they are taken from the orchard than at the time they drop. And there were clusters of grapeß yesterday that went in from the harbour, that will next Christmas or Thanks-giving-day bang above the banquet. But my text compares our opportunities of repentance and return to jnore perishable products. Aye, it sets before you in graphic vision a basktt of summer iruit. •

Many of you remember, a few years ago, when the peach crop suddenly ripened, and all the rail trains and steamers coming to oar city were laden with the delicions prodnct. The fruit was dead ripe, and not able to wait until the glutted markets were cleated, and so there were hundreds and thousands of [ dollars' worth o£ fruit thrown into the and into the rivers,- and carted back again to enrich the soil. O, the perishable nature of summer fruit. It is so much like our spiritual blessings, which must be used immediately, or never used at all. To-night, instead of having you wandering around as through the stalls of an agricultural fair, I would have you, with profound and agitated feelings of soul, look upon this text as depicting your last chance for Heaven, as it is all suggestively set forth. "Behold a basket of summer fruit." Was this statement of the text the blundering comparison of a man not used to literary composition ? Do you think tbe analogy will hold out? Is there any similarity between the Gospel and summer fruit ? O yes. They both in the first place mean health. God every summer doctors*'the ailments of the world by the orchards and groves. The failing of the orchards is a license to all kinds of diseases, and plenty of fruit ordinarily means improved sanitary condition. So this Gospel means health. It makes a man mighty for work, and strong for contest. It cures spiritual ailments. It helps the soul that is decrepid, bound on in the road to Heaven. It is j uvenescence. It is convalescence. It kindles the eyes with brilliant anticipations. It thrills the soul with glories to come. It is not a weak sentimentality. It helped Paul to stand miblanched on the deck of the foundering corn ship, and it helped Luther to nail his defiant "Thesis" against the door of the electoral college, the thumping of his hammer echoing through all the ages. It has helped ten thousand souls to spring through flood and nre to glories immortal. O, it is a swarthy Gospel. Mighty in itself it makes men mighty. It gives one over-mastering power in the day of trouble. The Church cries out to Christ in the Canticles : " Comfort me with apples," aud so to night I shake down upon you a whole orchard of fruit, while I read that the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, brotherly kindness, charity. Gather it up from the ground—large, round, luscious. Take it home with you—"a basket of summer fruit."

1 notice that the analogy is also fonnd in the fact that summer fruit is pleasant to the eye and the taste. So the Gospel, when a man rightly sees and tastes it, is very pleasant. Whether summer fruit be piled up in the orchard, or . on the barn floor, or on the platter of the table, the commingling of green, and gold, and red, and brown, in the cheek of the fruit is very fascinating. "Sou know that some artists.deal chiefly with pictures of fruit; and while Corregio delights to sketch physical beauty, and Turner drops the sea-foam on the canvas, and Cuyp drives np his cattle at evening tide, and Rosa Bonheur catches by the halter the rearing steeds at the " Horse Fair," and Edwin Landseer whistles us the dogs, there are many of our modern painters who are putting all their power on fruit pieces, and Ido not wonder at it. There is a beauty in fruit indescribable. So it is with the Gospel of Christ. It charms the young and old, the well and the sick, the wise and the ignorant. It has the glitter of the wave, the aroma of flowers, the fascination of music. It is the luxury of ages. Religion is not an abbess—is not a cenobite. "Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace." In June, 1812, there wasa very noble party gathered in a house in St. James's Square, London. The Prince Regent was present, and the occasion was made fascinating by music, and banqueting, and by jewels. While a quadrille was being formed, suddenly all the people rushed to the windows. What is the' matter ? Henry Percy had arrived with the newß that Waterloo had been fought, and that England had won the day. The dance was abandoned ; the party dispersed ; lords, ladies, and musicians rushed into the street, and, in fifteen minutes from the first announcement of the good news, the house was emptied of all its guests. O, ye who are seated at the banquet of this world, or whirling in its gaities and frivolities, if to-night you could hear the sweet strains of the Gospel trumpet announcing Christ's victory over sin, and death, and hell, you would rush forth, glad in the eternal deliverance. The Waterloo against sin has been fought, and onr Commander-in-Chief hath won the day. O, the joy of the salvation! Ido not care what metaphor, what comparison you have; bring it to me that I may use it. Amoß shall bring one simile, Isaiah another, David another, John another. Beautiful with pardon. Beautiful with peace. Beautiful with anticipations. I spread out the heaped-up, large, round, " luscious basket of summer fruit."

You have noticed that if summer fruit is not taken immediately, it soon fails. First, the speck ; then a multiplication of defects ; after awhile a softening that ia offensive; and then it is all flung out.' So I have to tell you that all religious advantages, all Gospel opportunities, all religious privileges, while they are beautiful and attractive, perish right speedily, if you do not take them. 'I suppose you have noticed how swiftly the days and years go by. Every day seems to me like a *' basket of summer fruitthe morning sky is vermillion, the noonday is opaline, the evening cloud is fire-dyed. Every day has its cluster of blessings and its fruity branches of opportunities. But how soon they are goue ! Where is 1873 ? 1870 ? 1860 ? ISSO ? Gone as thoroughly as the fruit which dropped from the trees and rotted last August. Every year has its characteristic. In one the war broke out; in another the locusts made terrible ravages ; in another the yellow fever raged ; but I care not what be the characteristics, they are all gone save one. Of the six thousand years of the world's existence, only one is left. Aye, ten months of that is gone, or nearly gone, and the tongue in the clock' of the months will soon strike 12, and then this year will be as dead as all its predecessors. In your library, you put the historical volumes side by side, volume first, volume second, volume third, volume foarth, and the history of the past is made up of six thousand volumes, three hundred and sixty-five pages in each of the volumes, and in the last day, at one flash, yon will read all of them. Time, how swiftly it goes ! Grey- hairs are here and there upon you, and some of you know it not. The " crow's-foot " is coming nearer up .towards the corner of the eye. You have been discussing the propriety of wearing glasses. You are going'from the thirties into'the forties, and from the forties into the fifties, and from the fifties into the sixties, and from the sixties into the seventies. The colour-is going oat of the " basket of summerfroit."' The curcnlio of trouble hath left the mark of its sting. The work of decay has begun, and the full basket of human life will soon be emptied into the trench of the grave. . When I first became anxious about my soul, there was a soliloquy I read in Mr. Pike's "Address to the Unsaved." It was a soliloquy'oh this'very subject. It represented a man dying, and as he was dying, the clock struck. As the clock struck, the man. was startled, and he cried out: "O time, it is fit that thou shouldst strike thy murderer to the heart. How arti-thou gone for. ever 1 A month ! : O for a week ! I ask not for a year, though. 0/7^,were too 'shorfier'-tba work I have to do. Heraorae for the past throws my thoughts on th e future, t ■ - Worse dread o£ the future throws my '.thought on

. the past.- I turn ana-*tarn"an&- : find""n6*Fay. If thou didst.feel one'balf the mountain that is on my heart,-thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake, and bless Heaven for the flame that is not au unquenchable fire. 0, Thoa blasphemed, yet, most indulgent Lord God, hell itself is a refuge, if it hide me I from Thy frown!"' Still further, I retaark tipon fhe perishable nature of all religious surroundings: . You | sometimes go into a religious association and you say: " Isn't that beautiful.; • How many ripe religious experiences. ; Why, it is like "a basket of summer ' fruit;"' But do you not know, my brother,, that all these Christian associations fade away from the soul ? Your Christian father and mother, who have been -holding benificent influences over you, do you not realise they are going away from you? Do you not notice that they do not get over sickness as soon as they used to ? Are you not aware of the fact that they do not-get overa-coldas quickly as once? The fact is that they have made more prayers for you than they will ever make again. They have passed the last mile-stone on the road home, and if you are going to get any benefit from that " basket of summer fruit," get it now, or get it never. Some of you do not know v, hat it is to stand and look down upon the still and rigid features of a Christian father or a Christian mother. I do. In five minutes you will think of all the unkind words you ever said to them. You may cover up the coffin with wreaths, and crosses, and crowns; bat you cannot make anything attractive out of it. It is trouble, and nothing but trouble for these who sit and sigh with the consciousness that those dear lips will never pray for you again. When you stoop down and kiss for the last time the wrinkled brow just before the lid is screwed on, you will think of what I tell yon to-Digbt. O, if father and mother be still alive with their Christian influepces, cherish them while you may. Take their example. Be profited by their prayers. They are ripe for Heaven and cannot stay. The " basket of summer fruit" will soon be gone. also it is, my friebds, with all God's offers of mercy and salvation. Are you tonight under the infatuation that those privi. leges are going to be continued? O no. Every opportunity of salvation seems restless until it gets away from na. Going away, the sermons ; goingawav, the songs; goingaway, the strivings of God's Eternal Spirit The fruits of immortal life, fair and.luscioua, are no sooner set before the soul than they disappear. The Thebau legion consisted of six thousand six hundred and sixty-six men. Maximian decreed that the host should be decimated—that is, that every tenth man should be put to the sword. So it was done; butt the soldiers did not submit to the kingly, authority, and'so another decimation took place, and the work went on until all ef the six thousand six hundred and sixty-six men perished. Now, Ido not know how many people may be in this house to-night, but it is an army. It is going to be decimated. One out of every 10 will soon be gone, and after that the work will go on; and again one out of every 10 will be gone, and again the decimation will take place, until not a single person in this House to-night will be alive. Our bodies, some of them, will be in Greenwood, in Laurel Hill, in Mount Auburn, in in Grey Friarschurch-yard,. in the village cemetery ; but your souls will be in one of two places, the names of which I need not mention, for they rush upon you this moment with thunderous articulation and emphasis. " ,

MaDy have missed their chance. Now there is no hiding that fact—they have missed their chance. They came in and looked at the "basket, of summer fruit." They admired the wicker work ; the delicacy of the rind; the greenness of the leaves. They went oft They came back and admired again. But one day they came, and they found that all the glory had faded, and that the fruit had been thrown out. They came to a certain evening. They saw the sun set. Thej never saw the sun rise again. The pastor pronounced the. benediction. It was the la9t benediction they ever heard. They took their last step, * spoke their last word, breathed their last breath, they missed their last chance. Fortunately for ns their voice is not strong enough to ring up until we can hear it, or it would make life on earthintolerable with the wailing. The wall is so thick that we hear not one word of their pang. Perished! Perished! They talk no more about there being time enough yet. They have no time. They worry no longer about the - inconsistency of Christians ; they look after their own condition. They no more argue that there is no such thing as a lost soul; they have felt the pang that comes from a fall ten thousand fathoms down. O sceptical man, go out and persuade them that there is.no retribution for a soul that forgets God. Break open the gate, dash through the fire; leap the intervening cliff, and ten and cry out to them : " There is no hell !" and ten thousand voices will answer back : "There is. See yon not the gate? Feel you not the sorrow ? We have been here 500 years, and yet the woe has just begun. Go back and tell all yon have seen. Tell them that we were as they are, and that they, unless they, repent,' shalf be as we are ourselves. We had the fruits of life set before'us, fair as 'a basket of summer friut,' but we would not take them, and we everlastingly died. •• Lost! Lost!"

My friends, the practical question is now, Will you miss your chance ? The offer of salvation is now extended to us. It will not always be continued. The day of grace will be past. The probability is that there are some in this audience who will miss their opportunity. I put my hand on your pulse, and I find that the fever has begun. 1 look upon your brow, and J find the shadow of impending doom. I listen to your breath, and I find it is suggestive of the last gasp. Some of you will be lost! See 1 you are falling now—down from Heaven, from life, from peace—down, down. I remember reading how Leonidas, with 300 men, stood in the pass between Eta and the 82a, fighting back the Persian hosts. The Persian hosts came on. They trampled him down. O that God, to-night, would arm me, a poor, weak man, with a supernatural courage to stand in the | pass in this glorious Sabbath hour, and dispute with .this army that I see before me, I the way of death. Halt I ye infatuated ' souls. I swing the two-edged sword both ways. Halt! halt! Take not one step more on this downward path. Why .will ye die when there is no use in.it? Are you charmed with pain, and sin and sorrow, and woe, that you will wade through the foaming, billows of perdition to win them 1 Is there nothing in the systematic tears of friends, nothing in the sacrificial blood of the Son of God, nothing in the daathbed experiences of those whom you have loved, nothing in the crash of the judgment avalanche, to make you think. I can tell from the way the country sexton rings the bell, when he isabout to stop ringing it. When he begins to ring, the music comes softly out on the air ; the bell fills all the air with music. He lays hold with strong pull; but after awhile, when the horses have been tied, and the people have gathered, then there is some distance of' time between the strokes of the bell. It gets slower and slower, for ie has begun to toll, and after awhile it stop 3. O sinner, how swiftly the invitations of the Gospel come to you 1 Call after call. Invitation after invitation. Floods of them. Floods of them. How merrily the bell did ring. But it seems as if with some of you God's patience is exhausted ; as if His mercy waa almost gone. The bell rings slower to-night tlvm it ever rang before, as if about to stop. Aye, it seems to have come to the dying toll. Thrice more it will speak—perhaps only tht'ce. Toll! Toll ■ Toll ! It was to set forth this solemn truth that religious advantages, while they, last, are attractive,but very soon leave us, that God let down to amos the herdsman, in vision, the beautiful but perishable basket of summer fruit. •