HE once preached from the text, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock.” “Oh, my dear brethren,” he said, “why will you pay no attention to your best Friend? Why will you let Him stand knocking, night and day, in all weathers, and never open the door to Him? If the horse-dealer, or cattle-drover came, you would run to open the door to him, and set meat, and drink before him, because you think to make money by him—the filthy lucre that perishes in the using. But when the Lord Jesus stands knocking at the door of your heart, bringing to you the everlasting wealth, which He gives without money, and without price, you are deaf, and blind; you are so busy, you can’t attend. Markets, and fairs, and pleasures, and profits occupy you; you have neither time, nor inclination for such as He. Let Him knock! Let Him stand without, the door shut in His face, what matters it to you? Oh, but it does matter to you. “Oh, my brethren! I will relate to you a parable of truth. In a familiar parable I will tell you how it is with some of you, and, alas! how it will be in the end. I will tell you what happened in a Welsh village, I need not say where. I was going through this village in early spring, and saw before me a beautiful house. The farmer had just brought into the yard his load of lime; his horses were fat, and all were well to do about him. He went in, and sat down to his dinner, and as I came up a man stood knocking at the door. There was a friendly look in his face that made me say as I passed, ‘The master’s at home; they won’t keep you waiting.’ “Before long I was again on that road, and as soon as I came in sight of the house, there stood the same man knocking. At this I wondered, and as I came near I saw that he stood as one who had knocked long; and as he knocked he listened. Said I, ‘The farmer is busy making up his books, or counting his money, or eating, and drinking. Knock louder, sir, and he will hear you. But,’ said I, ‘you have great patience, sir, for you have been knocking a long time. If I were you I would leave him to-night, and come back to-morrow.’ “‘He is in danger, and I must warn him,’ replied he; and knocked louder than ever. “Some time afterwards I went that way again, and there still stood the man, knocking, knocking, knocking. ‘Well, sir,’ said I, ‘your perseverance is the most remarkable I ever saw! How long do you mean to stop?’ “‘Till I can make him hear,’ was his answer; and he knocked again. “Said I, ‘He wants for no good thing. He has a fine farm, and flocks, and herds, and stack-yards, and barns.’ “‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘for the Lord is kind to the unthankful, and the evil.’ “Then he knocked again, and I went on my way, wondering at the goodness, and patience of this man.