II

There is only one safe covering for sin, and that is to have it hidden under the forgiving love of Jesus Christ. It is not the man that hideth his sins that shall prosper, but he who confesses his sins and through faith in Jesus Christ finds pardon and forgiveness, he it is who leaves the dungeon behind him and goes forth to perfect freedom and peace.

But

A man in sin is like the man in the castle in that old story-bound-fettered-thick walls-bolts-waiting for execution. one night, when he had fallen into a heavy sleep, a strange dream of home haunted him. He thought his mother had come to him. Starting up, he saw that there stood beside him a beauteous form, who said to him, "Make haste! Lift your hands that I may release them." And she took off the chains. She had beheld him when he knew nothing of it, and she knew his name, and love had brought her there. It was the castle-keeper's daughter. "Lift up your feet," she said, "that I may set you free." What he could not do for himself, love and

mercy were doing for him. "Now follow me silently." She led through passages where he never could have found his way alone. He breathed again the pure air of freedom and felt its cooling touch upon his cheek. Would not that liberated captive be a monster if his heart did not overflow with thanksgiving to her who had been his savior?

My friend, you are such a prisoner. Jesus is that loving one, seeking after you in your dungeon. When you did not know about it He was looking upon you, and down deep in your heart He has seen something worth loving, something worth saving, He beholds the man or the woman you may become; one fit to be lifted to the joy and glory of heaven. And so, with infinite love Christ has come, and He has unlocked your cell and stands over you with love-lit eyes and says: "I will be your Redeemer. will be your Guide. I will lead you gently as a mother leads her child. I will put my arm between you and all evil. I am the Good Shepherd that giveth my life for the sheep. Come, follow me!"

I

THE COWARDICE OF A GUILTY

CONSCIENCE

"The man and his wife hid themselves."'-Gen. 3: 8.

I'

N no way does the tragedy of Eden come

out with more picturesque realism than in these hiding figures fleeing from the face of the God against whom they have sinned. But yesterday the presence of God was their chief delight. It made the flowers more beautiful; it added to the fragrance of the blossoming trees; it gave more exquisite harmony to the singing of the birds; it was the perfection of their delight and their joy. Fear was not in all their thoughts and they gazed rapturously into the countenance of their Heavenly Father as a child gazes with unspeakable confidence and trust into the eyes of its mother. But now there is nothing they dread so much as the face of God. And we watch them as they haste into the thickest part of the garden and vainly try to hide themselves from the eye of their Creator.

I

Let us notice in our study of this picturesque and interesting theme that sin is primarily and supremely against God. Your sin may have wronged others; it may have harmed your father; it may have grieved your mother; it may have injured your brother, or your sister, or your neighbor; but your great transgression was against God. You do not make sin right again, nor heal its hurt, when you have obtained the forgiveness of some one else whom your sin has injured. Your sin will never cease to pursue you like a nemesis, nor to fill you with terror, until through penitence and appeal for mercy you have been forgiven of God. Here is where some make a great blunder. Sin is not simply a mistake, it is not simply bad form, it is not simply folly and unwisdom; it is a wrong against God; and no man can get rid of his sin till he has had sincere and genuine dealing with God, whom above all else his sin has wronged.

II

We can not fail to learn from our study that one of the first results of sin is to awaken the conscience and make it an accuser and pursuer. All great literature abounds in illustrations of this theme. No man deals with it with more wisdom and fidelity to life than Shakespeare. We have all had on our lips at one time or another those words of Hamlet in which he declares that "Conscience doth make cowards of us all." And in the tragedy of "King Richard III" Shakespeare makes a wicked man say of his conscience, "I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it makes a man a coward: a man can not steal, but it accuses him: he can not swear, not swear, but it checks him: it is a blushing

shamefast spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it; it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well endeavors to trust to himself and to live without it." And yet when