"You, then, were once what I am now--an unbeliever; and I was once what you are now--a believer. How the human character changes as time moves slowly on, to bring out the great teacher, death, who will finally settle everything." "Yes, Sir, and for ever." "What awful sublimity in that short sentence--_yes, and for ever_. The subject of our conversation interests me, as I have heard that prisoners committed for capital offences sometimes evince a peculiar intensity of emotion when listening to the mock process of a trial; the rehearsal of the coming tragedy pleases them. But to return to our subject, may I be permitted to ask you whether you now live habitually free from terror?" "I do, Sir." "Never calculate on being damned for ever?" "Never." "And you can sleep as calmly on your pillow, with the Bible by your side, as you could if you believed the dark world of hell had vanished into air--gone out of existence for ever?" "Yes, Sir, I can." "This, Sir, is to me inexplicably marvellous. I wonder how any one, who believes in the Divine authority of the Bible, can ever look at it without feeling terrified, as children feel when going into a dark room, after listening to a series of fearful ghost stories." "Why, Sir, the very design of the Christian revelation, given to us in the Bible, is not only to deliver us from the wrath to come, _but from the dread of it_. And this it does, when we believe in its Divine origin, and yield to its authority." "I was a believer once, and fond of theological studies; but the predominant influence of my faith was most oppressive, at times agonizing. I could never rise above terror; the dread of being lost for ever haunted me almost day and night." "If you watched the mental process which was going on during the time you were a believer in the Bible, and can now distinctly recollect it, perhaps you will perceive there was one great act you failed to perform, which is the testing and the decisive act of a genuine believer--the passing of the Rubicon." "To what act do you refer?" "To the act of coming to Jesus Christ, in compliance with his own invitation and promise--'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest' (Matt. xi. 28). '_Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out_'" (John vi. 37).