As will always be the case where the life of God is, his soul began to languish and starve under the "Yea and nay," "Do and live," orations to which he from time to time listened. He could not feed on husks. Distressed, hungry, and thirsty, his soul at last fainted. Then he cried unto God in his trouble. Full of vexation and perplexity, not knowing where to go or what to do, he dreamed. He saw, as he thought, an old woman with a cross-handled basket crying her saleables. "Who wants to buy any religion? Who wants to buy any religion?" she repeated again and again. Gladly, _eagerly_ he vociferated, "I do! I do!" He bought a large supply. It consisted of a great number of props, which supported him all around, and on each prop was written something which he was to do--some deed or good work he was to perform. Almost as soon as he was in possession of his purchased religion, he saw, at a great distance, a fire raging, which soon increased, so that it seemed to compass the whole sensible horizon. But what was more fearful, it burned still nearer and nearer to the spot where he stood, consuming everything as it approached. Alarmed, amazed, terrified, his horror was increased as he beheld his props already on fire. Everything had been destroyed as the burning ocean approached, and could he escape? Alone and helpless, how could deliverance be effected? Power and hope were alike gone, and into the infinite fire he was just sinking, when, lo! the mighty Jesus, before unseen, stretched out His gracious arm, and with words of promise, instantaneously performed, said, "I'll hold you up!" Forthwith the fire was quenched, and he sang delivering grace. These solemn scenes, so visibly portrayed in his imagination while asleep, became a subject of serious consideration when awake. Who could explain the matter to him? Not long he lacked a teacher. The Gracious Interpreter sent a messenger to blow the Gospel trumpet in the neighbourhood. He went; he heard. Oh, what a sermon! Never had such statements fallen upon his ears; never had such light shone into his mind. And what a text!--"The hail shall sweep away your refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding-place." One after another, the preacher described the vain hopes on which he had rested, and showed their frailty and destruction, in the way he had felt. And then his refuge, his hiding-place, his _props_, away, away they go, just as he saw, exactly as he felt. In short, the preacher's sermon was a map of the path--a verbal unfolding of the secrets of his heart. What was the consequence? The meshes of the devil's fishing-net were broken; free-will, creature-dependency, were gone; and hope--Gospel hope--"good hope through grace"--filled his anxious bosom. He had been down in the horrible pit; he had been sinking in the miry clay. Now he is brought to the verge of deliverance. Now he sees, he hopes in, the boundless prospects of covenant grace.