November 21
But It is Open to-Day
In the Hour of Silence"And the door was shut."—Matthew 25:10.
HEARKEN, my soul, to the clang of this closing gate. Hearken, with weeping and with singing.
Some were outside the gate. I scarcely venture to think what the exclusion involved for them. I cannot portray it. This is one of those cases in which "speech is too penurious, not expressive enough." It meant banishment from the life and light and love within; poor outcasts they are, and exiles from God. It meant misery and defilement and despair; are they not in the fetters and dungeons of eternal sin? It meant a fathomless and measureless sorrow; there is a ring of finality, of hopelessness, in the sound of the door as it is closed and fastened and barred.
But some were inside the gate. Here again I am unable to describe "such delight, such pleasure, and such play." For those within it was as blessed, as for the others it was terrible, that the gate was shut. It meant safety; within the walls and towers of the New Jeru- salem the enemy does not hurt or annoy. It meant holiness; when the key is turned in the door, my besetting sins will be left outside for ever. It meant the inheritance incorruptible and amaranthine; they shall go no more out. It meant the noblest and com- pletest consecration; God is better served, a prince among the Puritans said, by the lowest in heaven than by the highest on earth.
And the door was shut. For me, the one crucial and momentous question is, "On which side of the door shall I stand?" Surely not in the desolation without. Surely—through the overflowing and triumphant grace of my Lord—in the gladness within.