“Aha! Aha! Aha!” cried they all. “We are well informed about the way and need no foreign voice to give direction.” Then came the solemn hymn of warning in words so tender and clear that each one could hear every sentence: “There’s a sad day coming, A sad day coming. There’s a sad coming by and by; When the sinner shall hear his doom: ‘Depart, I know you not.’ Are you ready for that day to come?” CHORUS: “Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready for the judgment day?” The words had not yet died on the air when a young man ran hastily from the company toward the Way of Life. His companions then gave vent to their ridicule, some even going after him and endeavoring to pull him back, but without avail. Some sang an idle song to drown the hymn of warning that still rang in their ears. Others engaged in boisterous conversation, and still others mocked with foul profanity. They passed on, and as far as I could see them they were pushing on to the Valley of Death. I saw another man who was heavily burdened with pieces of timber on which was written: “Faults of Church-Members.” He also came to the Place of Warning. “Throw off the cumbersome weight you are carrying on your back, and travel on the way where your burden will be light,” came a friendly voice from the Rescue Station. “I am not so foolish as to throw away my only hope,” he answered with unthankfulness in his tone. “‘Your only hope,’” repeated the voice of warning, “how can you explain such foolish words?” “With passing ease. I will soon come to the River of Death and with these boards I can make myself a raft whereon I can pass over safely.” Then spoke the voice of warning clearer than before: “O, foolish man! Knowest thou not that the River of Death, toward which thou art rapidly moving, cannot be crossed in a bark so frail? I have seen millions who tried in vain to ride its angry currents, but they sank beneath its dark waters. Come, O mortal man, if thou hast nothing better on which to depend, listen to the voice of wisdom and come, without delay, to the Path of Glory.” But the man passed on. I watched him till he reached the river, and saw him go from the shore in his self-constructed raft. “I sink! I sink! Save me!” he, cried in utmost agony of terror as his little raft whirled about, leaving the poor self-deceived fellow to the mercy of the waves. I saw others as they passed the Place of Warning. Thousands and tens of thousands, some now totally deaf to every voice of warning, some with cotton-filled ears, and others with instruments of music with which they drowned the calls of warning. Many more passed by who carried little balloons of self-righteousness with which they expected to rise above the murky River of Death. A young woman, who moved more cautiously, stopped at the Place of Warning and listened attentively.