We shall always be in debt to Solomon for these wise sayings, and for the pains he took to have them preserved. The words which head this form a picture. It is harvest-time, and the old folks have been depending on their able-bodied son getting in all their corn, but they are doomed to disappointment. He sleeps when he should work. When others are toiling he is snoring, and his corn rots in the field because he does not carry it while he has fine weather. How ashamed his father is! Other men have got their corn well housed, but his is still where it grew, because the son he has reared is lazy and self-indulgent. One feels that no language is too strong for this indolent young man.

But what has this to do with us? some will ask. We reply Is not this the harvest time of the church, when the days are closing and the nights lengthening? Have we not been used to hear of special efforts being made for the rescue of perishing souls, and ingathering of those who are in danger of dying unready?

Are you asleep in harvest?

Let every Methodist who reads this ask What am I doing? Am I sleeping or harvesting? What am I doing to gather in the ripe corn? If I am indolent I shall cause shame to the people who count me one of themselves. If we sleep now that we should work, at the March Quarterly Meeting our place will be down in numbers, and as there are others of the same indolent sort, our circuit will be down at the District Meeting, and perhaps the District be down, and there will be the shame among the churches if Methodism is down.

Other churches are used to look to us to shew them how to do the reaping. O, let us be up and doing! How shall we dare to meet our Lord if we sleep when we should sweat? How shall we bear it, if the members of other religious societies tell us that our bad example corrupted them? What will be our shame, if we find that those who expected us to gather them in accuse us of slothfulness, and destroying their souls by our neglect?

Can we expect to keep our children, if they see
our farm pointed out as the field of
the sluggard?

Will not very shame drive them from their own home to find one among those whom we once taught the way to reap?

We wish that we could do with all drowsy Methodists what Jonah’s captain did with him. We should dearly like to give them a good shake and say, “Awake, O sleeper!” We think of towns and villages, where, not very long ago, there was the song of the reaper, but now, alas! he has gone fast asleep. Shame will be the inheritance of those who are drowsy when they ought to be at work. Why have contempt poured on thee, when glory is to be won by work? Grasp the sickle and go out among the standing corn, or the rust on thy reaping hook shall eat into thy soul for ever!