15 - The Dread of Sin

Chapter 15 THE DREAD OF SIN "But Deliver us from Evil"

Men may be tempted to sin, while they may foil the tempter, and not only remain unhurt, but come forth from the furnace like purified gold. The evil they most fear is, yielding to the suggestions and incentives of the adversary, and suffering the bitter consequences of their folly and wickedness. It is one of the most natural expressions of piety in the world, therefore, for them daily to present the request at the throne of grace, ’’ Deliver us from evil."

It is not necessary to occupy much time, in unfolding the true meaning of this request. It may not be supposed, that in offering it, the child of God prays to be delivered from all evil, of every kind and degree. A measure of suffering is what he expects. He never prays, nor should he even venture to desire to be delivered from that measure of it which his Heavenly Father sees best for him. The prayer to be wholly delivered from it were an implicit, if not expressed and direct revolt against the revealed purpose of God, as well as against his wise and holy providence, and the discipline of that covenanted faithfulness and grace, by which he is weaned from the world, and fitted for his heavenly inheritance. The design and scope of the passage show that the " evil" alluded to in this request is sin. " Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,’’ The emphasis of the request lies in the obvious antithesis. Men are not tempted to suffering, but to sin. The original word, here translated evil, is indeed of more comprehensive import, but it is quite as frequently used to denote moral evil, as that which is merely physical. The Saviour, in praying for his disciples, says, "I pray not that thou wouldest take them out of the world, but that thou wouldest keep them from the evil’’. He was not unwilling that they should live, and labor, and suffer ; he had forewarned them of this allotment ; suffering was their vocation and honor; tribulation was that in which they had been taught to glory ; but he prayed most fervently that they might be kept from sin, and from the power of their spiritual enemies.

So, when, in this formula and compend of prayer, he instructs them to supplicate their Father who is in heaven, that he would "deliver them from evil’’ he means the great evil, the ruthless enemy, the deadly plague of sin. This is the evil to which they are most exposed, which they most hate, and which they are most afraid of. This is the evil which most easily besets them; which they find the most difficult to restrain and resist; and which has the earliest, the deepest, and the most enduring lodgment within them. This is the burden of which they most bitterly complain; heavier than losses, more distressing than sickness, more mournful than sorrow, severer than persecution, more withering than reproach, more galling than chains. This is the enemy with which they are called to maintain a sleepless and perpetual warfare, because it contends for the throne in their hearts; because if it is let alone, it will live and reign in the soul forever; and because it never dies, save a lingering, painful, and excruciating death. This is the sea of trouble whose dark waters roll over them, and which, though often buffeted and repelled, may return from some unexpected source and in some new channel, and sink them in the depths. They can welcome anything rather than this. There is nothing that is the source of so much depression and discouragement as this great evil. It costs them tears, and groans, and prayers. " Mine iniquities’ says the Psalmist, " are gone over my head; as an heavy burden, they are too heavy for me. I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day long. I am feeble and sore broken; I have roared by reason of the disquietude of my heart!" Many a time are they constrained to exclaim with Paul, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"

One of the most effective means of deliverance from this great evil, is prayer. There are, it is true, other means. Temptation must be avoided; evil pursuits, evil associations, and all corrupting influences must be put far away. We must realize more deeply our obligations to God. We must labor for a deeper sense of the vanity of this world, and more abiding impressions of the world to come. We must dwell often and tenderly on the love and sufferings of our great atoning and interceding High Priest. We must acquaint ourselves more with God, habitually feel that we are always in his presence, be cheerfully employed in our duty, and make it our high ambition always to do those things which are well pleasing in his sight who sees us everywhere, and from whose presence none can flee. But the great encouragement, and stimulus, and relief in all these efforts is derived from prayer. Sin cannot be mortified without prayer, because it cannot be mortified without a power superior to our own — the power of God’s gracious, condescending, and omnipotent Spirit. " If ye, through the Spirit, do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live." No man ever engaged in a successful conflict with his corruptions, without feeling his dependence on God, and his need of the Holy Spirit, to give him the victory, even over any one form of sinning. Without this, nothing is accomplished; the besetting sin gains strength; all sin has augmented power; and instead of being delivered from evil, the most holy men, so far from making any advances in the divine life, would wax worse and worse.

We frequently read in the Scriptures of the throne of grace, as the refuge of God’s people in the time of trouble. And what a refuge! When from the storms of earth, they hide themselves in his pavilion. Nor is it more a refuge from their sorrows and privations, and tribulations, than a refuge from their sins. If true believers in Jesus had a more intimate acquaintance with one another’s experience, it would probably be found, that there is no one blessing for which they prize the throne of grace more than this. Multitudes are found among them who can say, "Sin had been a pleasure, and religion a burden, but for the privilege of prayer. I had been among the vilest of men, but for a throne of grace. Long ago, had I been in hell with the damned, but for a throne of grace." It is here that the soul not only finds pardon for the past, but strength for the present, bright kindlings of hope for the future. It is here that she is brought into contact, not with things that are evil, but things that are good. It is here that she perceives the beauties of holiness, takes hold of the divine strength and the divine promises, feels that her life is hid with Christ in God, and while she goes on her way, rejoices as she goes.

There are important reasons for this special request, " deliver us from evil." True religion is as reasonable as it is lovely. Though with every child of God, such a request is in no small degree a matter of feeling, yet are its weight and importance enforced by every dictate of reason and conscience, as well as every emotion of piety. Let us direct our thoughts, in the subsequent part of this chapter, to a consideration of the question. Why do the children of God thus fervently pray to be delivered from sin ?

Sin is itself "exceedingly sinful." It is "an evil thing and bitter." It is the poisoned arrow; the dart that most bitterly wounds the soul. One of the points of difference between those who are Christians, and those who are not Christians, will be found to consist in their different views of sin. Good men view it in some measure as God himself views it. The reason why God hates and forbids it, is that it is wrong. It is opposed to his nature, and a violation of his law. It is eminently the "accursed thing,’’ and that which "his soul hateth." He is of "purer eyes than to behold evil, and cannot look on iniquity." He is not opposed to it because he is afraid it will injure himself, though it is enmity against him, and all its tendencies are to frustrate his designs, and subvert his throne. ’’If thou sinnest, what doest thou against Him? or if thy transgressions be multiplied, what doest thou unto Him?" His nature remains spotless, and his blessedness undisturbed; his counsel shall stand, his throne endure forever, and he will even "make the wrath of man praise him." Yet is there nothing more repugnant to him, as a being of perfect rectitude, than this abominable, odious thing. He has a quick, instinctive, and unchanging sense of what is right. It is a matter of principle with him, nor can it be otherwise than that he should be the everlasting enemy of sin. When men are born of God, and become his children, they imbibe a portion of his nature and spirit. Because sin is odious in itself, and hateful to him, it is hateful to them. The time was when they regarded it otherwise; but that time is gone by. All the sensibilities of their renewed nature are now wounded by it, and it is their earnest prayer that they may be delivered from its power. It is all evil; they see no good in it. It is the fountain of corruption. It makes the devil evil; it makes the human heart evil; it makes the world evil. They themselves know the pain, the grief, of being brought under its dominion; they have a painful sense of its turpitude. Many a time have they been subdued to tenderness and tears, have wept and bled, on account of it.

It is not like other evils which come upon them, and which they mourn over, but which have no moral turpitude. Sickness and poverty, pain and death, are evils, but they are not sins. The consuming flame, the desolating flood, grim famine, the withering thunderbolt, are evils; but they are not sins. They never sting the conscience. There is some relief in contemplating these; but, save in the blood of Christ, there is none in contemplating sin. It has no excuse, no palliation. Whatever it touches, it corrupts and makes it evil. It has no resemblance to what is right; no one element of purity and loveliness. In its best forms, and least enormity, it is crime, dire and direful crime. With all its meretricious adornment, it is an evil which conscience revolts at, from which every virtuous mind shrinks, and from which He who once bore its mighty burden and shame has well taught his disciples to implore deliverance.

There is also debasement and shame in sin, as well as moral turpitude. The soul of man was originally pure and holy; it was the most amiable and beautiful object in this lower world; but little lower than the angels, formed in the image of its Maker, lofty, lovely, and justly beloved. It was endowed with high intellectual faculties, with a sound and healthy conscience, with affections pure as the crystal stream. All its parts were fitly joined together, and all its separate functions maintained that due subserviency and subordination which constituted it an harmonious spiritual existence. If the love of the beautiful, the admiration for the sublime, could be gratified with perceptions of what was pleasing and grand in the newly completed material creation, much more were they gratified with this highest, noblest, and honored work of God.

It is among the basest and worst features of sin that it defiles and pollutes the soul, once so pure and honored. When man fell, this pure and lofty existence became deteriorated and depraved; its faculties were deranged, its harmony disturbed, and its beauty defaced, its glory turned into shame. It became diseased and defiled; a pale, sickly, debased existence. When through matchless grace, it is born of God, and created anew in Christ Jesus, it begins to assume its primeval beauty, to put on its vestal robes, and to shine forth in its original loveliness. Its symmetry is restored, and its disjointed and jarring faculties once more act in harmony. It makes progressive advances in holiness; habitually, though inconstantly, it is tending upward, till ultimately it attains to that unblotted excellence which was once its highest glory. To this upward progress sin opposes the most humiliating obstacles; it acts upon the mind just as a stupefying, or inflammatory disease acts upon the body. To a greater or less extent, every sin does this; while habitual and aggravated sin does it to an alarming degree. The heart, the great moral principle, the master impulse of the wondrous machinery, itself disordered, throws into disorder all the natural faculties. The understanding becomes darkened, the judgment confounded, and reason itself no longer compares, compounds, and arranges as a well-balanced mind is wont to do, but plunges into the deepest and most foolish absurdities. The beauty, excellence, and glory of God and divine things, fade from the mind, or are seen through a false medium. Spiritual things are no longer compared with spiritual; natural things are no longer seen in their moral relations; the views of the mind are blind and partial, and it is warped to conclusions that are false and unrighteous. Memory too becomes most treacherous where it ought to be most faithful ; and instead of being the repository of thoughts that are true and heavenly, becomes the store-house of all that is earthly, and not a little that is sensual and devilish. And conscience becomes misinformed, misled, bribed, and stifled; or where it rises above these errors, brings the soul into terror and bondage. This view of the evil of sin may not impress the minds of all good men alike; but there are those to whom it is a most humiliating view. They are conscious of the defilement of sin; it is a melancholy, debasing consciousness. It despoils them of their glory, and leaves them in their nakedness and shame. It is like the plague of leprosy; it covers the soul; it is too polluting and contagious to go abroad without some badge of its uncleanness. There is nothing in it that is pure and honorable. It is a loathsome, filthy disease; and the man who is polluted by it, does well when he covers his face and clothes himself with sackcloth. When the children of God are conscious of having fallen into sin, even after their gracious healing, they feel oppressed with that humiliating sense of their vileness which extorts from their bosoms the confession, "unclean ! unclean !" The prophet’s acknowledgment was, ’’ O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God !" " O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto thee; but unto us confusion of face! It is no marvel that the daily prayer should go up to the throne, " wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin !" The pollution of sin is often felt to be deeply odious and degrading; in no words is the humbling sense of it more fully expressed than in the short sentence, " Behold I am vile!" However prosperous their outward condition, and however many and expressive the tokens of confidence they receive from their fellow-men, nothing satisfies the people of God, but to be "delivered from the evil." They have no stronger desire, no prayer more importunate than that "the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth they should not serve sin." Their daily application is to the blood that cleanseth, and their daily request that God would "heal their backslidings."

It is worthy of remark, that amid all the philosophical theories in regard to the ultimate good which sin is made to subserve, men of prayer are not embarrassed with theories on so plain a subject. They do not stop to ask, if God may not glorify himself by their wickedness ; sin is too odious to allow of any such palliations. In defiance of all theory, the Spirit of God has taught them its exceeding defilement, and they cannot help praying to be delivered from its pollutions. Every emotion of piety prompts them thus to pray; the mere impulse of right affection overpowers all their nice metaphysical distinctions and subtleties, and constrains them to implore, " Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

There is also suffering in sin, as well as evil and shame. In piety there are joys. Angels find them in the pure and devout affections of their own minds ; in their delighted contemplations of their adored Author and Sovereign; in their admiring views, of his works and providence ; in their growing conceptions of his great work of redeeming mercy; in their fellowship with God, and in his favor and love. The lowest and meanest seraph is indeed happier in these sources of joy than the highest and most exalted child of God on earth; yet has the lowest and meanest child of God on earth spiritual enjoyments such as " no man taketh from him."

True religion, wherever it is felt in purity and power, always produces the most happy effect upon the mind that embraces it. It is the Sun of righteousness arising upon the soul after the darkness of a long and gloomy night. It is like the returning spring, melting the ice and dispelling the chill frosts of winter, giving life to the buried seed, clothing it with verdure, and spangling it with flowers. It spreads serenity and joy over the very countenance, lights up the languid eye, and fills the lips with praise. Not more certainly is it the life of God in the soul of man, than it imparts a portion of the very blessedness of God to the soul itself ’’ To be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace." There is a love of God, a confidence and hope in God, a communion and fellowship with God, which not only lead the soul to stay itself upon him, and feel safe and tranquil, but which fill it with triumph. " Thou hast turned from me my mourning into dancing," saith the Psalmist; " thou hast put off my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, to the end that my glory may sing praise unto thee, and not be silent." Nor is there anything that preventeth these joys from being constant, unless it be the chilling, withering influence of sin. Sin is the atmosphere of death. It is like returning winter to the soul when sinful thoughts, sinful passions, and sinful pursuits agitate it. They sweep over its calm surface, and upturn the deep foundations of its joy. They make it restless and unhappy; and if their influence is permanent, render it like a frozen ocean, where the ice of centuries has been accumulating, and every current of air that comes from it chills and freezes. The light of the divine countenance is withdrawn from it by day, and God its Maker no longer gives it songs in the night. Gloom and darkness hang over it. Its garments of gladness are laid aside, and it puts on its weeds. It has no longer that comfortable evidence of its interest in the divine favor which made it joyful in the house of prayer. Deserted of all but unbelieving doubts, cruel fears, a guilty conscience, and bitter lamentations, it is well nigh abandoned to its invisible enemies, and sinks into morbid dejection and melancholy. The Christian who is even surprised into sin, finds it difficult to return to his wonted enjoyment of God. They are suppressed aspirations of heart toward him which he feels rising in his bosom ; he is embarrassed in his fellowship; his access in the new and living way is obstructed ; he feels for a time like a stranger and foreigner, an outcast, rather than like the happy child of God. He has no comfort in prayer; no light shines upon the sacred pages of God’s word when he opens that sacred volume; no promise meets his uncomforted heart; ordinances are barren; and in the bitterness of his soul, he is ready to exclaim, "God has forgotten to be gracious ; he hath in anger shut up his tender mercies !" A wicked man, a self-deceived man, a vile hypocrite, can live in such a state of mind as this, so far as he knows what such a state of mind is; but it is a state of mind which no Christian can long endure. Things seen and temporal cannot make him happy while thus shut out from things unseen and eternal. He cannot live thus abandoned of God; he would welcome death in the assured peace with his heavenly Father, rather than life under the sorrows of this spiritual desertion.

It is not without reason, therefore, that he prays against the invasions of sin from without, and the indulgence of sin within, ’’ Cast me not away from thy presence; take not thy Holy Spirit from me." His very sorrows and griefs find their consolation in the prayer to be delivered from evil.

Sin also diminishes, if it does not destroy the Christians usefulness. True piety is efficient and operative. The great object of every Christian is to " live not to himself, but to Him who died for him, and rose again." But it should never be forgotten, that the value of his religious character is derived from its moral influence. Nowhere is this unquestioned influence more exerted than in those humble efforts, those cheerful acts of self-denial, those unreluctant sacrifices, and that unnoticed toil and patient perseverance in well-doing, which have the promise of reaping in due season.

Sin, more especially indulged sin, is ruinous to his influence and usefulness. If even the heaven-born Paul complained that his sins interrupted him in the performance of his duty, who and where is the saint that discovers not reasons for the prayer, " Deliver me from evil ?" " I am carnal,’’ says this peerless Apostle, " sold under sin. For that which I do, I allow not; for what I would, that do I not ; but what I hate, that do I. I find, then, a law that when I would do good, evil is present with me." He was conscious of a conflict, the severity of which sometimes unfitted him for those arduous and self-denying duties, and those wondrous enterprises of Christian heroism which were the objects of his high wrought and holy zeal. He was afraid of sin, because he well knew its tendency to paralyze his usefulness. Those who possess most of the spirit of Paul, for the same reason, " groan, being burdened." It is an afflictive thought to them, ever to be in a state of mind in which their duty is irksome, or their courage prostrated by self-reproach, or the reproach of their fellowmen. " Then shall I not be ashamed," says the Psalmist, " when I have respect to all thy commandments." When good men, by their own folly and backsliding, have brought opprobrium upon the sacred name by which they are called, when they have thrown stumbling-blocks in the way of those that are without, and not only given occasion to infidels and scoffers to triumph over their fall, and to speak even more lightly than they are wont to do of the religion of the Bible, but have also furnished reason for the friends of God to suspect their sincerity; they know not how to lift up their faces, they are humbled and distressed, and not unfrequently court retirement and solitude, rather than spheres of active usefulness. Even if their sins are secret, they feel a shrinking reluctance at occupying places of consideration and influence. Christian usefulness is a plant of slow growth ; it spreads itself gradually; yet if there creep in a worm at the root, it withers more rapidly than it grew. The usefulness of a good man is inseparably connected with the views which men have of his religious character. Their respect for him gives energy to his efforts. Men of no great strength of purpose, or vigor of effort, are not unfrequently in no common degree useful; because they are, confessedly, very good men. Where a good man has palpable and glaring sins; where his character is such that, though his fellow-men do not deny him the credit of being a Christian, those who know him best respect and love him least; he may not hope to be eminently useful.

Though every true Christian desires more to he a child of God, than to seem to be such, it is not unbefitting the truest sincerity and the truest humility, that he should desire so to conduct himself, that his fellow-men may have confidence in his piety. Nothing less than this is required of him by the Saviour, when he utters the injunction, " Let your light so shine before men, that they, seeing your good works, may glorify your father who is in heaven." He should be watchful that nothing he says or does, and nothing he leaves undone or unsaid, shall destroy, or even diminish, the good influence he might otherwise exert. And is it any marvel that such a man should sometimes fear and tremble? Is it wonderful that he should often employ his thoughts in faithful self-inspection; that he should sit in severe judgment upon his own heart and character; that his daily prayer should be, "Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe I" ’’ Deliver me from evil!’’

Another reason for this request is found in the fact, that sin is so universally destructive in its tendencies upon the happiness and best interests of the world in which we dwell. We may only glance at this prolific and mournful thought. The ravages of sin may be traced in all the course it has trodden from the fall of angels to the present hour. There is no form of happiness that has not withered at its approach; none of misery and woe, be they ever so varied and hideous, that have not followed in its train. It has made the human bosom, otherwise tranquil and unruffled, the seat of conflict, and agitated it by storms. It has drowned the hopes of men in an ocean of fears. Throughout the length and breadth of this wide world it has dug its valley of tears, and overhung it by the shadows of death. Its emblems are hung round the dungeon and the stake, the prison and the gallows; they are suspended over every battlefield, and immingled with every convulsion that has passed with confused noise over the earth.

Go to the bowels of the earth and the channels of the sea, and there are its triumphs; it has made sea and land a world of graves. It kills the body and damns the soul. It created the walls of that gloomy prison, whose broad gateway bears the inscription, " Where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched." There it confines the rebel angels ; there it conducted Sodom and Gomorrah ; there it hurled Pharaoh and Babylon; and there its burning, malignant fury remains unquenched. Ruined legions emit thence the memorable warning, "Beware of sin!" and were they still prisoners of hope, would say, " Deliver us from evil !"

There is still another reason for this request ; it is found in the claims of redeeming love. The suppliant is one who addresses the God of pardon. He has become reconciled to him through that mighty Sufferer who hung upon the cross. God is his Father now; he would not wound that heart of paternal love. More powerful than the obligations of the law, the love of God, the love of the cross attracts him. It is not fear that moves him so much as love. "Perfect love casteth out fear;" and though his love is far from perfect, yet is it stronger than those chains of darkness at which he once trembled; more potent than the fiery walls of that eternal prison which once filled him with terror: and by its resistless bands, draws him every day to his Father’s mercy seat, to supplicate, " Deliver me from evil." His heart is burdened with the desire that he may have no fellowship with the cruel, accursed thing that tore the much loved One from the tranquil bosom of heaven, dragged him down to the degradation of a creature, the servitude of a slave, and shamelessly nailed him to the cross. Sin was the crime perpetrated in the holy empire of the Most High, that could not be atoned for, save by the eternal agonies of the perpetrator, or the crucifixion of the eternal Son of God; and shall he not hate it? Shall he not pray to be delivered from its power? Thousands of rams, and ten thousand rivers of oil could not make amends for it; and shall he not bewail its malignity? Go forth, O my soul, and see what sin has done! Look away to Calvary, and there read and learn the never-to-be-forgotten lesson. Go on those bended knees before the throne of mercy, and when, in the peaceful and heaven-imparted spirit of adoption, thou canst say, " My Father who art in heaven ;" say also, " Deliver me from evil !"

Something like the preceding views are those of every true believer, in giving utterance to this emphatic request. The conflict of such a man with sin is very different from the mere struggles of natural conscience. Wicked men are not strangers to this conflict, in some sort; but while their conscience struggles against it, they do not feel it to be their burden, but are still controlled by the love of sinning. The struggles of natural conscience are occasional and partial: while the Christian’s conflict with sin is habitual. His warfare is with the whole body of sin; nor does he cease from the conflict, until at last he gains the victory. Natural conscience wages war, mainly, with outward sins, while true piety watches, with eagle eye, the secret evils of the heart, and contends with sins known only to the all-seeing Witness and Judge. The believer hates sin; the unbeliever fears it, and only with the servile fear of punishment. The believer resists it from principles unknown to mere natural conscience. He contends with it by faith and prayer, and in humble dependence on his Father who is in heaven; while natural conscience leaves out of sight the ’’ grace to help." When a good man sins, his conscience ultimately becomes more sensitive and faithful; he dreads the approaches to sin, as the burnt child dreads the fire; while experience and observation show, that the more a wicked man sins, the more does his conscience become callous and seared. Judas felt the scorpion sting of a wounded conscience ; Peter, the pangs of a broken and contrite spirit. This petition in the Lord’s Prayer, therefore, furnishes one of the criteria by which every man may judge of his spiritual state. Could you listen when a thoughtless sinner prays, you might hear professions of thankfulness, requests for the divine bounty, deprecations of the coming wrath; but few, if any, supplications to be delivered from sin. Could your ear be open, when the child of God enters into his closet, and shuts the door, you would hear what, in the ears of the men of the world, might seem some strange requests. You would, indeed, hear the song of thanksgiving, and the pleadings of a broken heart for pardoning mercy; but you would hear solicitations still more fervent, to be " delivered from evil." Nay, in the seasons of his greatest fervor and spirituality, such a man might rise from his knees, without once uttering the request, " Give us this day our daily bread;" while he would never forget to implore that God would keep him from sin, and make him more and more conformed to the image of his Son. Another day will show if the reader has this spirit, and thus indicate whether he is or is not a child of God. I have said, that the Christian’s struggle with sin is no momentary conflict. Nor is it an unsuccessful one. He may not gain every battle; he may, indeed, sometimes fall, and be found bruised and maimed, and bleeding, on the field; but he shall at last come off more than conqueror, through Him that loved him." In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." Spiritual affections may languish and decline, but they shall not die.

It were a dark sign, if the Christian were satisfied with his present attainments. Let him take courage in the thought, that " iniquity shall not be his ruin." He is " not of them that draw back to perdition, but of them that believe to the saving of the soul." Let him study to prove himself a " good soldier of Christ." Let him seek to know, not how he may cover his sin, but how he may detect it, and how it may be subdued. " He can do all things, through Christ strengthening him."

There are those who trifle with sin. They trifle with it in their thoughts; they speak lightly of it; they excuse and extenuate it; they commit it without remorse; and they rejoice and triumph, when they discover it in themselves, and in their fellow-men. Never was there a deeper infatuation than this. " Fools make a mock at sin." Nothing remains for such a man, but " indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish." Sin is his enemy. It will be a miracle of mercy, if it do not give malignity to the undying worm, and ignite the fires that never shall be quenched. Should these pages fall into the hands of any one thus insensate and infatuated, let him stop in his mad career, before he makes the fearful plunge into the world of retribution; let him " look on Him whom he has pierced, and mourn." Even now, the throne of grace invites him to bow at its footstool, in self-abasement and tears. No prayer is more befitting such a man, than this last request, in that form of prayer which Christ taught his disciples, ’’ Deliver me from evil." Let him " break off his iniquity by righteousness, and his transgressions by turning to God.’’ Let him repair to the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, and say, " Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean ; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." Let him go at once; let him fill his mouth with arguments; let him urge his way through obstacle and snare; let him boldly and fearlessly come near the throne — Oh, what is this I am saying? Let him rather, like the Publican, who, " standing afar off, durst not lift his eyes to heaven," smite upon his breast, and say, " God be merciful to me a sinner !"