The Angel of Time

1900

New Year Sermon

Rev. Alford Porter last evening delivered a sermon on the topic of "The Angel of Time" at the First Baptist Church. He said in part:

Rev. 10:5-6: "And the angel which I saw standing upon the sea and upon the earth lifted up his right hand to heaven and sware by Him that liveth forever and ever that there shall be time no longer."

"Wonderful" is the only word for this mystic book of Revelation, and wonderful has been its effect upon the minds of men. It has made popes shudder and toss upon their midnight-pillows. It has made conquerors tremble and pale as they thought they saw their own doom speeding down upon them out of the open mouths of the vials of wrath. It has made all men dizzy and awe-struck by its succession of rushing noises and colossal figures. Of all that procession there is no scene more thrilling, no figure more majestic than appears in our text.

It represents a mighty angel, with a face like the sun and feet like pillars of flame, crowned with the token of mercy — a rainbow, and clothed with the emblem of judgment — a cloud. The mighty Colossus stands with his left foot on the land and his right foot on the sea; his left hand holds an open Bible, while his right hand is uplifted to heaven appealing to God for ratification of his solemn oath that "there shall be time no longer."

On this solemn night let the vision of the angel of time confront us with his assertion that time is about to end, and eternity about to begin.

Time, as far as this passing year is concerned, shall soon be no longer. The year is winging to its close, and is even now hovering on the brink of eternity. It has seen its last sunrise, its last sunset. How rapid its passage! Stay, stay, thou flying year; stay thy swift wings, for I am bewildered by this giddy sound, and would pause for a space and breathe." The winged year sweeps on, and will not stop. Turn now, everyone, and bid good-bye to the passing year. Good-bye to the companion who one year ago was an angel in your home and tonight is an angel in the long home! Good-bye to the child that twelve months ago was clasped in your arms and tonight is cradled in the everlasting arms! Good-bye to our Christian brothers who walked these aisles with us and tonight are walking the aisles of the heavenly temple! Good-bye! Good-bye! Year, thy comedy and thy tragedy alike are ended. Vanish! We shall meet but once again, when they record is unfolded in the dazzling light of the all-judging day.

Time, considered as a whole, shall be no longer. Time is the age of the visible world. It began with the flat, "Let there be light," and it will end with the summons, "Come, ye blessed of my Father," and "Depart, ye cursed." Time is the age of this visible creation, but eternity is the age of God: "Before time was, and when time shall end, He is." The age of time is winding up by minutes, days and years. On, on it is hastening, soon to be swallowed up in eternity. For aught we know the hammer is about to strike the last hour, and shiver the universe asunder.

When Lord Nelson was buried in St. Paul's cathedral in London, it is said that the heart of all England was touched to the core. The procession passed on amid a nation's sobs. There were thirty trumpeters stationed at the door of the cathedral, with trumpets at hand, waiting for the signal, and when the illustrious dead arrived at the gates these thirty trumpeters gave one united blast, and then all was silent. Yet the dead warrior slept right on. But none shall sleep when the trumpet that shall call all men to judgment shall sound in our ears. The clock of the universe has struck 8, 9, 10, 11. It shall strike once more, and time shall be no longer.

Time, as far as each one here present is concerned, shall soon be no longer. From life's beginning we have been on the borderland of eternity. With one hand the mother touches the cradle and with the other hand the tomb. The fragile floor of our life is built upon eternity. Look at the cracks! You can see eternity shining through.

"Great God, on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things."

How frail our tenure of time, which above and beneath us is an eternity so vast that arithmetic has not figures enough to express its length or breadth or depth or height.

We are always complaining our days are so few, yet squandering them as though there were no end of them. Napoleon beat the Austrians because they never knew the value of time. While they dawdled he overthrew them. The devil will defeat some of you, I fear, for the same reason. See those incandescent lights! One of them awhile ago burned out. A little while ago, and it was blazing like the rest; but it is gone. And where will you be, my hearers, when the fires of your life have burned out like that vanished spark? Let us cry, as did Bunyan, stopping our ears to earth's siren voices, "Life, life, eternal life."

"There's an end to all that the world can give,
When the house we build shall fall;
How great is the wreck and the ruin then,
When the dark-flood swallows all."

—Cedar Rapids Evening Gazette, Cedar Rapids, IA, Jan. 1, 1900, p. 5.