Last evening the members of Neptune Engine Company, No. 7, of
Brooklyn, attended in a body the Second Baptist church, on Leonard
street, to listen to a sermon by Rev. A. B. Earle. As the announcement
was made public, the attendance at the church was so great that nearly
half that came could not get inside.
"The services were opened by prayer, followed by singing, after
which Mr. Earle delivered his discourse. He spoke in a plain but
earnest manner, engaging the deep attention of his audience.
The text selected was from Mark ix: 44 'Where their worm dieth not,
and the fire is not quenched.' He said he should call their attention
more particularly to the latter clause of the text. He thought nothing
would grieve them more than to meet with a fire which they could not
put out; they would go home sorrowful at heart should such an event
happen to them. They had often met and subdued this enemy--fire; they
had always quenched it; but he should speak to them of a fire which
could never be quenched.
"He then divided his text into two parts; first, What the worm is
that dieth not, and why it does not die; second, What the fire is that
is not quenched, and why it is not quenched.
"The worm that never dies is guilty memory,--the remembrance of
past guilt. Memory is like a living, gnawing worm, producing a
restless pain in the soul, as a gnawing worm would do in the vitals of
the body. Impressions once made upon the mind can never be effaced. A
name once heard or mentioned, though forgotten for a time, will return
in after years when circumstances shall recall it. Incidents of
childhood carry their recollection to the grave. Memory is active when
all else is still. In moments of peril the memory is more vivid and
active, and thoughts of the past crowd upon the brain with
inconceivable rapidity.
"Instances are often related of men in peril, by sea or land, who
have seen the events of former days; recalled by memory; words and
deeds they had thought forgotten have returned to them; their past
life has seemed to come before their mental vision with startling
reality. When the soul shall have dropped its fetters, and passed
beyond the restraints of flesh, memory will still be fresh and active.
This memory which tenants the body during life, and clings to the
spirit hereafter, is the gnawing of the deathless worm. This worm
draws all its nourishment from this world.
"He cited as an instance of the activity of memory, and its
effects, the case of a prisoner who was removed from one prison to
another, where the treatment was better. The man said he did not like
the new prison as well as the old one, although he did not have to
work as hard, had better food and kinder keepers; but in the new
prison the convicts were not allowed to speak to each other; and in
this terrible silence his memory was ever active--it was all think,
think, think. So it will be hereafter: we shall be constantly
thinking. We should therefore be careful how we store the memory,
since its recollections will ever be present with us.
"In the second part of his discourse he considered the fire that
can never be quenched.
"They might believe that no fire could break out in the city which,
by their skill and activity, they could not put out; and their
fellow-citizens, confident in their ability, went to their repose,
feeling that by the vigilance, tact, and energy of the firemen their
lives and property were secure. But there is a fire that cannot be
quenched: it is remorse, or the realization of our sin in the dark
world of despair. The Saviour says it is better to have but one eye
than to be cast into hell, where the worm dieth not and the fire is
not quenched.
"The fire of God's wrath is the sinner's realization of his
wickedness, and a guilty remembrance of the past. The reason this fire
cannot be quenched is, there is nothing there with which to quench it.
Suppose a building was wrapped in flames, and the firemen brought
their engines to the spot, but could find no water; they would be
powerless, however good their intentions. So with the fire of God's
wrath--the guilty remembrance in the world of despair; there will be
nothing with which to put it out; there is nothing here that can
quench it but the blood of Jesus.
"He called their attention to the heroic fireman, young Sperry, of
New Haven, who went into a burning building to save a child supposed
to be there, and lost his own life. He felt assured there was not one
among that company whom he addressed but would rush, as Sperry did,
into the flames to save a fellow-creature's life. So if he (the
speaker), by rushing into the flames of perdition, could drag a
brother out of the fire, how readily would he do it.
An Indian, who had been converted, was asked by a white man to
describe how religion came to him. He led the white man out to the
woods, and gathering some dry leaves, arranged them in a circle, and
put a little worm in the centre of it. He then set the leaves on fire.
The worm sought escape, first on one side, then on another, but there
was no way out; so, drawing itself again to the centre of the circle,
it sank into a numb and listless state. The Indian then lifted the
worm from the fire with his fingers, and said, "This is the way God
saved me! Jesus plucked me out of the flames.' So nothing but the hand
of God can save any one; nothing but the blood of Jesus can quench the
fires of a guilty soul.
"To be saved we must be born again. Some people suppose they would
be happy if they could get to heaven. They are mistaken; they could
not be happy there, unless this fire within them had been quenched
here. A guilty soul in heaven would be like a convicted murderer
pardoned at the last moment by the governor of a state. He is now a
free man, and the law cannot touch him. He returns to his home and his
family. His wife welcomes him back with joy, and his children gather
around him. still he cannot be happy: consciousness of guilt haunts
him. The governor may pardon, but cannot justify. Remorse preys upon
him, and he feels that he cannot stay in that happy home--it is no
place for him while blood is on his soul.
"The preacher then drew a metaphor, strikingly applicable to his
hearers, illustrating the free agency of man in his own salvation.
"Suppose the exterior of a building was constructed of fireproof
materials; fire could not reach it on the outside, and it could be
opened only from the inside. Suppose this building should; take fire
from the inside, and you knew there was a citizen within, liable to
perish in the flames. You would go there with your engine, and seek to
save him; but you could not reach the flames from the outside, and
could do nothing unless the man opened the door. If he would be saved,
he must open the door, and that speedily, for the flames were
gathering closer around him each minute. So it is with each of
us--every man holds the key of the door to his own heart. Jesus says
to every one, 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if you will open
the door, I will come in and save you.'
"There is a fountain filled with blood that will extinguish this
fire, and it will be poured upon the guilty soul if the door is
opened; for the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin. But when we
pass out of this world this blood cannot be obtained, and the fire
cannot be quenched." -- A. B. Earle, From: "Incidents Used ... In His
Meetings," published in 1888