Let it be remembered that this sin was committed in private—his family knew nothing of it—his brother probably did not notice it at the time—there was no man of God at his elbow, to reprove him—no Bible at hand to condemn him—and yet he was never happy afterwards. What was it, then, which made him thus miserable, and always thus brought his sin to remembrance, but that same conscience, which so many deny, and always affect to despise? Though there was no recorder upon earth, there was one in heaven: God heard and marked his sin: he it was that roused conscience to its duty, and bid it wring the sinner’s heart; it did so, and the unhappy blasphemer could never afterwards forget the impious expression; it was ever present to his recollection, it followed him like a frightful spectre wherever he went, and peace was a stranger to his bosom. This it was that clothed death with so much terror: he could not die as his fellows are used to die, in brutal ignorance and stupidity; he was alive to his situation, he saw his danger; he knew that punishment was deserved; conscience, ever pointing to the bar of God, told him to prepare for judgment—and though he knew but little of God’s word and his threatenings against sinners, he could not but fear the worst: it was this that shook his strong nerves, and bowed down his spirits for forty years. Oh! who can resist an enraged conscience? “A wounded spirit who can bear?” Reader, pause for a moment. You possess a conscience, though perhaps it sleeps, but be assured it will not sleep for ever; it is immortal as the soul, it will surely awake, and that soon, either in time or eternity: convinced of sin you must be, either by the mercy of God in this world, to bring you to repentance; or by his vengeance in the next, “where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched!” O whenever it speaks, listen to it, it is a friendly voice: do not stifle it, for in stilling conscience we quench the last glimmerings of hope; we commit the last act of violence upon the soul, short of self-murder; and do, as it were, leap down upon the very shelvings of the pit, that mercy’s hand may never reach us. Secondly. See here the bitterness of unpardoned sin.