(2) Let me ask, in the second place, _whether we ever do anything about our souls?_? There are multitudes in England who think occasionally about religion, but unhappily never get beyond thinking. After a stirring sermon,--or after a funeral,--or under the pressure of illness,--or on Sunday evening,--or when things are going on badly in their families,--or when they meet some bright example of a Christian,--or when they fall in with some striking religious book or tract,--they will at the time think a good deal, and even talk a little about religion in a vague way. But they stop short, as if thinking and talking were enough to save them. They are always meaning, and intending, and purposing, and resolving, and wishing, and telling us that they "know" what is right, and "hope" to be found right at last, but they never attain to any _action_. There is no actual separation from the service of the world and sin, no real taking up the cross and following Christ, no positive _doing_ in their Christianity. Their life is spent in playing the part of the son in our Lord's parable, to whom the father said, "Go, work in my vineyard: and he answered, I go, sir, and went not." (Matt. xxi. 30.) They are like those whom Ezekiel describes, who liked his preaching, but never practised what he preached:--"They come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and they hear thy words, but they will not do them.... And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear thy words, but they do them not." (Ezek. xxxiii. 31, 32.) In a day like this, when hearing and thinking, without _doing_, is so common, no one can justly wonder that I press upon men the absolute need of self-examination. Once more, then, I ask my readers to consider the question of my text,--"How do we do about our souls?"