When the crash of a falling oak echoes through the forest, it's a sign that the woodsman is abroad. And every tree in that forest trembles, knowing that tomorrow the sharp edge of the axe may find them next.

We are all like trees marked for the axe. The fall of another should remind us that for every one of us—whether great as the cedar or humble as the fir—our appointed hour is stealing on apace. I pray that hearing about death so often hasn't made us callous to it. God forbid we become like those birds in the steeple who build their nests while funeral bells toll below, who sleep peacefully while solemn death knells shake the air.

Death is the most weighty of all events. Let it sober us. It ill becomes us to sport while our eternal destiny hangs on a thread! The sword is out of its scabbard—let us not trifle! It is furbished, its edge is sharp—let us not play with it! The person who doesn't prepare for death is more than an ordinary fool—he's a madman.

When God's voice sounds among the trees of the garden, let every tree hear it—fig tree and sycamore, elm and cedar alike.

Be ready, servant of Christ! Your Master comes suddenly, when this ungodly world least expects him. See to it that you are faithful in his work, for your grave will soon be dug.

Be ready, parents! See that your children are brought up in the fear of God, for they must soon be orphans.

Be ready, men and women of business! Take care that your affairs are correct, and that you serve God with all your hearts, for the days of your earthly service will soon be ended. You will be called to give account for the deeds done in the body, whether good or evil.

May we all prepare for the tribunal of the great King with such care that we receive that gracious commendation: "Well done, good and faithful servant."