Remember How Short My Time Is – Sunday, April 9, 1944
To see death gently pronounce its benediction upon a fullness of years, to see its merciful hand remove the infirmities of one who has traveled long and become weary of the journey, is a hallowed experience—but to see death hover near the fairest youth of many lands and make its choices from among them is quite another thing—youth, whose lives are crowded with plans and prospects—youth, who should be confident in the promise of many days to come, but who, paradoxically, live as though they had less time than the aged.
“The days of his youth hast thou shortened … How long, Lord? wilt thou hide thyself forever? … Remember how short my time is.” (Psalm 89:45-47.) Thus spoke the Psalmist—and in tragic despair the story might there end, except for the assurance of Easter, which our world needs now more than ever before in its uneasy history . . . “Remember how short my time is.” . . . Time is short, whether you’re twenty or whether you’re eighty. “A thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past . . . Thou carriest them away as with a flood.” (Psalm 90.4, 5.) . . . “For tomorrow we die.” . . . But we don’t! Life goes on—here and now for most of us, and if not here, then somewhere else—not with forgetfulness, but with acute memories of all that has been, and with the promise of all cherished things renewed. “Remember how short my time is” To youth pressed for time, to youth in a generation of uncertainties, we say: Live your lives as though they would continue forever—for they will! And this assurance leaves room in life only for the things we would be proud to acknowledge no matter how long we lived—and it leaves no cause for crowding years into days, blindly and breathlessly; no place for questionable short-cuts, or for the cheapening of any part of life because time may be short.
Time is spent quickly for all of us, whether we’re old or whether we’re young. . . “But tomorrow we live”—according to the promise of Him who died that men might live.
By Richard L. Evans, spoken from the Tabernacle, Temple Square, Salt Lake City, Sunday, April 9, 1944, over Radio Station KSL and the nationwide Columbia Broadcasting System. Copyright – 1944.
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April 09, 1944
Broadcast Number 0,764