wife to her grave with a broken heart; they have made my children beggars; and I go down to my grave without peace or consolation." I never heard of an infidel going down to his grave happily. But not only do they go on without peace, but how many youths do they turn away from God? How many young men are turned away from Christ by these infidels and devils? Let them remember that God will hold them responsible, if they are guilty of turning men away from heaven. A few infidels gathered around a dying friend lately, and they wanted him to hold on to the end, to die like a man. They were trying to cheer him, but the poor infidel turned to them: "Ah," said he, "what have I got to hold on to?" My friends, let me ask you what you have got to hold on to? Every Christian has Christ to hold on to-the resurrected man. "I am he that liveth and was dead; and behold I am alive for evermore." Thank God, we have some one to carry us through all our trials. But what has the Infinel, only the shell. How many men are there in Chicago who are His gods are false gods. They are like the false gods of the Hebrews; they never hear their cry. Whereas, if we have the God of Daniel, of Abraham, he is always ready to succor us when in distress; and we can make him our fortress, and we have a refuge in the storm of adversity. There we can anchor safely, free from danger and disaster. I was reading to-night almost the last words of Lord Byron, and I want to draw a comparison between the sorrowful words of Byron and those of Saint Paul. He died very young-he was only thirtysix-after leading an ungodly life. "My days are in the yellow leaf, The flower and fruit of life are gone; Compare those words with the words of St. Paul: "I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day." What a contrast! What a difference! My friends, there is as much difference between them as there is between heaven and hell, between death and life. Be judges which is the most glorious-atheism, deism, infidelity, or the Christianity of St. Paul. May God take all these isms and sweep them from the world. I want to read to you a letter which I received some time ago. 1 read this to you because I am getting letters from infidels, who say that not an infidel has repented during our meetings. Only about ten days ago I got a letter from an infidel, who accused me of being a liar. He said there had not been an infidel converted during our meetings. My friends, go up to the young converts' meeting any Monday night; and you will see there ten or twelve every night, who have accepted Christ. Why, nearly every night we meet with a poor infidel who accepts Christ. But let me read this letter. We get many letters every day for prayer; and, my friends, you don't know the stories that lie behind those letters. The letter I am about to read was not received here, but while we were in Philadelphia. When I received it, I put it away, intending to use it at a future day: DEAR SIR: Allow me the privilege of addressing you with a few words. The cause of writing is indeed a serious one. I am the son of an aristocratic family of Germany-was expensive'y educated, and at college at Leipsic was ruined by drinking, etc.; was expelled for gambling and dishonesty. My parents were greatly grieved at my conduct, and I did not dare return home, but sailed for America. I went to St. Louis, and remained there for want of money to get away. I finally obtained a situation as bookkeeper in a dry goods house; heard from home and the death of my parents. This made me more sinful than ever before. I heard one of your sermons, which made a deep impression on me. I was taken sick, and the words of your text came to me and troubled me. I have tried to find peace of God, but have not succeeded. My friends, by reasoning with me that there was no God, endeavored to comfort me. The thought of my sinfulness, and approaching the grave, my blasphemy, my bad example, caused me to mourn and weep. I think God is too just to forgive me my sins. My life is drawing to a close. I have not yet received God's favor. Will you not remember me in your prayer, and beseech God to save my soul from eternal destruction? Excuse me for writing this, but it will be the last I shall write this side of the grave." Ah, my friends, his "rock was not as our rock, even our enemies themselves being judges." I have two more letters I would like to read. I am not accustomed to read so many letters, but on this occasion I will read them to you. Some of you remember me speaking of a man who came in here, who was a fugitive from justice. The Governor of the State from which he came had offered a reward for him, and he came into this tabernacle. He received Christ, and returned to his State. This morning I received the following letter: "DEAR SIR AND BROTHER: Owing to the law's slow delay, I am yet a prisoner of hope. By Thursday or Friday my case will be reached, and I'll be committed to the penitentiary; how long I do not know. This condition is voluntary, or of my own seeking, because I feel it due the cause of God, or the only evidence I can give of my repentance and desire to do better. My family and friends hope ultimately to obtain a pardon. I desire to thank you for the interest you have taken in me, and I ask your prayers, and those of God's people in Chicago, that I may have strength and grace to live under these calamities, that my poor heart-broken wife and children may be sustained, and, further, that God's blessing may rest on all efforts being made for my future. After it is all over, and I am in a felon's cell, I'll write you. In your efforts to warn men to do better and lead a new life, bid them beware of ambition to accomplish an undertaking at all hazards. Such is my condition. Had I left off speculation in an invention, I might now be happy. Step by step I yielded, until my forgeries reached over $30,000. My aim was not to defraud, but to succeed, and pay it all back. Oh, pray for me— for all who suffer with me. While in Chicago, I was under an assumed name. Here I am, in my native village, in my father's home, a prisoner, not daring to go out, or even to see my children (we have three, two boys and one girl). I hear their voices, and when they sleep I silently go in their little room and look at them in innocent slumber. My crimes are in another county, whither I go Thursday. May our heavenly father bless your labors. Humbly and repentant I am. To-morrow probably he will go into the penitentiary to suffer for his crime, but now his rock is our rock. room. Last week a beautiful-looking young man came into the inquiry He had been brought up in a happy home, with a good father and mother. He had gone astray. When he came into the inquiry room, he said he intended to become a Christian; but he could not, because he knew what it would make him do. He had robbed an express company, and that sin came between him and God. He had been heard, and received a verdict in his favor; but he knew he was guilty. He had gone into the witness box and committed perjury. He turned away, and left the building. Last Friday, however, he was at the noonday meeting; he was in my private room for a while, and I never felt so much pity for a man in my life. He wanted to become a Christian; but he thought of having to go back and tell his father that he was guilty, after his father had paid $2,000 to conduct his trial. After a great struggle, he got down on his knees and cried out: "O, God, help me; forgive me my sin;" and at last he got up and straightened himself, and said, "Well, sir, I will go back." A friend went down to the railway station and saw him off, and shortly after I got this dispatch from him: "Mr. Moody-God has told me what to do. The future is as clear as crystal. I am happier than ever before." He went on his way, reached his native village, and I received this letter from him this morning, and I have felt my soul filled with sorrow ever since it came. Let me say here, if there is anyone in this hall who has taken money from his employer, go and tell him of it at once. It is a great deal better for you to confess it than have it on your mind-than to try to cover it up. "He that covereth his sin shall not prosper." If you have taken any money that don't belong to you, make restitution, by confession at least. If any one here is being tempted to commit a forgery or any crime, let this be a warning to them: "MY BELOVED Friend anD BROTHER: I am firm in the cause. I have started, and feel that God is with me in it. And, oh, dear brother, do never cease praying for my dear father and praying mother; and I wish you would some day write them, and tell them that God will make this all for the best. If I live for ages, I will never cease praying for them; and I never can forgive myself for my ungratefulness to my dear broken-hearted sisters and brothers, and dear, good parents. Oh, that link that held the once happy home is severed. O God! may it not be forever. Would that I had been a Christian for life; that I had taken my mother's hand when a child and walked from there, hand in hand, straight to heaven; and then the stains would not have been. But we know, O God, that they can't follow me into heaven, for then I will be washed of all my sins, and the things that are on this earth will stay here. Oh, my dear Christian brothers, my heart almost failed me when I was approaching my dear, happy home, and the thought that I was the one out of eight brothers and sisters to break the chain of happiness that surrounded that once happy and beautiful home, which is now shaded with misery, and the beautiful sunshine that once lit that happy, that dearest of homes, is now overshadowed with darkness. Oh, I fear it will take my dear parents; it is more than they can bear. When I reached home, and they all greeted me with a kiss, and I told them I had started for heaven, and God sent me home to tell them, my mother shed tears of happiness, and when I was forced to bring the death stroke upon her the tears ceased to flow, and God only can describe the scene that took place. I called them all around me, and I thought I could not pray if I were to attempt it. But when I knelt with them in prayer, God just told me what to say, and I found it the will of God; and after I had prayed, I kissed them all, and asked their pardon for my ungratefulness, which I received from them all. Then I made my preparation to leave home, for how long God only knows, but I got grace to leave in a cheerful way, and it appeared for a short time; and if God lets m live to return home I will join my mother's side, take her to church and bring my brothers and sisters and father to God. We will all go to heaven together. My beloved brother, I must see you some day, and just tell you what God has done for me; and I know he will never forsake me, when I am shut up in those prison walls receiving the punishment I justly deserve for my crime. When I can't communicate with any one else, I know I will not be shut off from God. Oh, glory! "I came to Cleveland last night, and was going to get that money and return it to the general superintendent, but my attorney had made that arrangement already. I find there is an indictment at Akron against me now for perjury, and I am going to take the morning train and go to Akron. Court is in progress now, and I am going to ask the court if there is an indictment against me; and if there is, I will hear it and then plead guilty. I will write you again soon, and give you all the particulars and the length of my sentence." I want to urge this letter upon your consideration as a warning. Think of the punishment that young man has brought upon himself; think of the agony of that father and mother when he broke the news to them; when he told them of his guilt. His "rock was not as our rock." May God bless every young man here to-night, and may they be brought to the acceptation of salvation. May they turn to the God of their fathers, and of their mothers, so that they can say, "Your rock is our rock-we are servants of God." THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. "God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are." LUKE 18:11. "God be merciful to me a sinner." LUKE 18:13. In this first parable, we are told that men ought to pray always and everywhere; that prayer should not be left to a few in the churches, but all men ought to pray. He gives us a picture, so that we may understand in what spirit we ought to pray. Two men went up to the temple-one to pray to himself, and the other to pray to God; and I think it will be safe to divide the audience into two bodies, and put them under these two heads. I think, however, whether we divide the audience or not, we come under these two heads-those who have the spirit of the Publican, and those who have the spirit of the Pharisee. You can find that the whole community may be divided into these two classes. The spirit of the prodigal and the spirit of an elder brother are still in the world; the spirits of Cain and Ábel are still in the world, and these two are representative men. One of them trusted in his own righteousness, and the other didn't have any trust in it; and I say I think all men will come under these two heads. They have either given up all their self-righteousnesssrenounced it all and turned their back upon it-or else they are clinging to their own righteousness; and you will find that these selfrighteous men, who are always clinging to their own righteousness, are continually measuring themselves by their neighbors. "I thank God that I am not as other men are." That was the spirit of that Phari |