Again, this sense of obligation to be perfect as God is perfect, is exceedingly deep.  It is the most profound sense of which man is possessed, for it outlives all others.  The feeling of duty to God’s law remains in a man’s mind either to bless him or to curse him, when all other feelings depart.  In the hour of death, when all the varied passions and experiences which have engrossed the man his whole lifetime are dying out of the soul, and are disappearing, one after another, like signal-lights in the deepening darkness, this one particular feeling of what he owes to the Divine and the Eternal law remains behind, and grows more vivid, and painful, as all others grow dimmer and dimmer.  And therefore it is, that in this solemn hour man forgets whether he has been happy or unhappy, successful or unsuccessful, in the world, and remembers only that he has been a sinner in it.  And therefore it is, that a man’s thoughts, when he is upon his death-bed, do not settle upon his worldly matters, but upon his sin.  It is because the human conscience is the very core and centre of the human being, and its sense of obligation to be holy is deeper than all other senses and sensations, that we hear the dying man say what the living and prosperous man is not inclined to say:  “I have been wicked; I have been a sinner in the earth.”

Now it might seem, at first sight, that this broad, deep, and abiding sense of obligation would be sufficient to overcome man’s love of sin, and bring him up to the discharge of duty,—­would be powerful enough to subdue his self-will.  Can it be that this strong and steady draft of conscience,—­strong and steady as gravitation,—­will ultimately prove ineffectual?  Is not truth mighty, and must it not finally prevail, to the pulling down of the stronghold which Satan has in the human heart?  So some men argue.  So some men claim, in opposition to the doctrine of Divine influences and of regeneration by the Holy Ghost.

We are willing to appeal to actual experience, in order to settle the point.  And we affirm in the outset, that exactly in proportion as a man hears the voice of conscience sounding its law within his breast, does he become aware, not of the strength but, of the bondage of his will, and that in proportion as this sense of obligation to be perfectly holy rises in his soul, all hope or expectation of ever becoming so by his own power sets in thick night.

In our careless unawakened state, which is our ordinary state, we sin on from day to day, just as we live on from day to day, without being distinctly aware of it.  A healthy man does not go about, holding his fingers upon his wrist, and counting every pulse; and neither does a sinful man, as he walks these streets and transacts all this business, think of and sum up the multitude of his transgressions.  And yet, that pulse all the while beats none the less; and yet, that will all the while transgresses none the less.  So long as conscience is asleep, sin is