"I am not going to accept the interpretations placed upon this seventh chapter of Romans by the speaker," said Peter, as he arose to reply. "Why? Because I never heard it explained that way. Why? Because I have heard Brother Peters preach from these texts, and he has always declared a man could not keep from sin. Living free from sin! Whoever heard of such a thing? It can't be done, that is all there is to it. We cannot keep from sin. Paul said sin was ever present with him, and I know it is with me. I try to do right, but sin gets the better of me. I ask God to forgive me every time I pray. I tell you, a man simply cannot live without committing sin." When Peter Newby sat down, Robert Davis arose again, and said: "There is a text of scripture that says certain persons cannot cease from sin. I do not say that anyone here fulfills the description in that text. Peter says, in his Second Epistle, chapter two, verse 14: 'Having eyes full of adultery, and that cannot cease from sin.' As I said, I charge no man with this kind of character, and only read it to give you a Scriptural description of one who cannot live without sin." It was painfully evident that this was an unwise thing to say at that particular time. Robert Davis was young, and full of zeal. Most probably he should not have uttered those words. Peter Newby was powerfully affected. He felt as if his character had been scandalized before the whole crowd. His face waxed red with an inner rage. His body quivered and shook with excitement. No one had ever seen him quite so exercised. He arose slowly, but with extreme determination. Things had gone as far as they could without a physical clash. "Hold your place, young man, I will not allow anyone to insult me in this manner. Be careful what you say. There will be another chapter added to this if you are not careful. I will defend my honor, no matter what it costs." And he resumed his seat. The air was filled with intense excitement. A few words from Robert Davis would have struck fire, and he knew it. So he quietly sat still without saying a word. The tenseness of the situation was painful. Just then Mary Davis started that old familiar song: "Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high. Hide me, O my Savior, hide, Till the storm of life is past, Safe into the haven guide, Oh, receive my soul at last." A few joined in toward the last half of the verse, and, as she began on the second verse, the whole congregation sang with vigor: "Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee; Leave, oh, leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed, All my help from thee I bring, Cover my defenseless head With the shadow of thy wing."