a thunder-storm, a group of men were standing in a blacksmith-shop.  There came a crash of thunder, and the men were startled.  One man said that he was not afraid; and he made a wager that he dared go out in front of the shop, while the lightnings were flying, and dare the Almighty.  He went out; shook his fist at the heavens, crying, “Strike, if you dare!” Instantly a thunder-bolt struck him.  He was dead.  He cursed God, and died!

God will not abide this sin.  He will not let it escape.  There is a kind of manifold paper by which a man may, with a heavy pencil, write upon a dozen sheets at once—­the writing going down through all the sheets.  So every oath and blasphemy goes through, and is written indelibly on every leaf of God’s remembrance.  Ah! how much our Father bears!  Can you make an estimate of how many blasphemies will roll up from the streets and saloons of our cities to-night?  If you go out and look up you cannot see them.  There will be no trail of fire on the sky.  But the air is full of them.  The name of Christ is not so often spoken in worship as in derision.  God will be cursed to-night by hundreds of lips.  The grog-shops will curse him.  The houses of shame will curse him.  Five Points will curse him.  Bedford street will curse him.  Chestnut street will curse him.  Madison square will curse him.  Beacon street will curse him.  Every street in all our cities will curse him.

This blasphemy is an abomination that no words of mine can describe.  And God hears it.  They curse His name.  They curse his Sabbath.  They curse his Bible.  They curse his people.  They curse his Only Begotten Son.  Yes; they swear by the name of Jesus!  It makes my hair rise, and my flesh creep, and my blood chill, and my breath catch, and my foot halt.

Dionysius had a cave where men were incarcerated.  At the top of the cave was an aperture to which he could put his ear, and could hear every sigh, every groan, every word of the inmates.  This world is so arranged that all its voices go up to heaven.  God puts down his ear and hears every word of praise offered, and every word of blasphemy spoken.

Our cities must come to judgment.  All these oaths must be answered for.  They die on the air, but they have an eternal echo.  Listen for the echo.  It rolls back from the ages to come.  Listen:—­“All blasphemers shall have their place in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.”  Some have thought that a lost soul in the future world will do that which it was most prone to do in this world.  If so, then think of a man blaspheming God through all eternity!

This habit grows upon a man, until at last it pushes him off forever.  I saw a man die with an oath between his teeth.  Voltaire rose from his dying pillow, and, supposing that he saw Christ in the room, cried out, “Crush the wretch!” A celebrated officer during the last war fell mortally wounded, and the only word he sent to his wife was:  “Tell her I fought like hell!”