For one who is wrong there must be the consequences of wrong, and these must be as fearful and as far-reaching as sin itself. "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," and evermore and everywhere the harvest is greater than the seed. The coming tribulation and anguish of the unsaved souls that do evil is a law of nature as well as of revelation. The wages of sin is death. You know this. You have felt it in its measure. You have seen it in the unhappiness, the misery, the woe, the despair and death with which sin reigns everywhere around us. Take the brightest view of life that you can, and the darkness in which it ends is terrible. To go out of it without God is to go out without hope. Am I wrong in believing that you need no argument here, that no conviction is more sorrowfully intense with you than this? Will you go now a step farther? Standing in your wrong and your weakness and your unrest, with the heavy shadows of the future falling upon you, are you willing to draw near to the open portal of a better life? Are you willing to look up and read over it--"God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life"? John iii. 16. Are you willing to submit your faith to the mystery--beyond all depth except the love of God--that the Son of God in our nature has borne our sins in his own body on the tree--that he has died for us, the Just for the unjust? In other words, are you willing to receive the kingdom of heaven as a little child--to be saved, if saved you may be, in God's own way? In a former letter I spoke of the testimony of Webster to the reality of the Christian religion; and, though it is true that Christianity does not depend upon the patronage of any man, it is well to know that greater intellects than those that would persuade you to reject it have bowed before it and found their supreme hope in it. Let me give you, then, another testimony from this greatest of American statesmen and jurists. It was his last night on earth; that life of extraordinary influence and honor was closing. As his family and friends stood around his bed his physician repeated the immortal hymn of Cowper: "There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Immanuel's veins, And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains." As upon the night-air died away the final stanza-- "Then in a nobler, sweeter song I'll sing thy power to save When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave,"