DRIFTING.


A CERTAIN ship's crew in mid-ocean beheld a vessel drifting in the distance without masts and without a helm. Steering toward it, they shouted,

"Whither bound?" Faintly the answer came, "No-whither."

"Where are your masts and sails?"

"We need none."

"Where are your charts, your compass, your chronometer?"

"We have none, we need none."

"Why do you not need them?"

"Oh, we don't know which way to steer, and so one port is as good as another to us, or no port at all, for that matter."

"Surely they are mad!" cries the captain as he sails away.

Out on the sea of mortality, is that your bark without sails, or rudder, or compass, or destined end in view?

Do something. Do the best you can. --Anything but aimless drifting. Steer toward goodness, spread your sails to catch the winds of opportunity, and press for the port of Heaven. 





S. S. Classmate