Sinner, End of a – Charles Spurgeon

IT is ill with you, sinner, because your joys all hang upon a thread. Let life’s thread be cut, and where are your merriments? Your dainty music and your costly cups, the mirth that flashes from your wanton eye, and the jollity of your thoughtless soul, where will this be when death, with bony hand, shall come and touch your heart, and make it cease its beating? It is ill with you, because when these joys are over you have no more to come. You have one bright chapter in the story, but ah! the never-ending chapter, it is woe, woe, woe from beginning to the end: the woe of death, and after death the judgment, and after judgment the woe of condemnation, and then that woe that rolls onward forever, eternal woe, never coming to a pause, never knowing an alleviation.