on its spiritual side it is past dying; it is dead.  By that I do not mean that the spiritual nature, that is the soul, ever ceases to be in any man.  That will never come to pass.  Perhaps nothing once created will ever cease to be.  Anyway, man is immortal.  The soul can never die.  Neither do I mean that there is no Spiritual Life.

     “By spiritual death we mean that the soul is—­Separated from God;
     no union with Him.  In a blind man the organ may be perfect, but not
     connected.

     “Inactive.  No love for the things God loves.  No hatred for the
     things He hates.  Dead to His interests, His kingdom; dead to Him.

“Corrupt, bad, devilish, etc.  What a valley of dry bones the world appears to the man whose eyes have been opened to see the truth of things.  Verily, verily, it is one great cemetery crowded with men, women, and children dead in trespasses and sin.  Look for a moment at this graveyard, in which the men around you may be said to lie with their hearts all dead and cold to Christ, and all that concerns their Salvation.  Look at it.  The men and women and children in your town are buried there.  The men and women in your city, in your street.  Nay, the very people who come to your Hall to hear you talk on a Sunday night are there.  There they lie.  Let us read the inscriptions on some of their tombs:—­

     “Here lies Tom Jones

“He had a beautiful nature, and a young, virtuous wife, and some beautiful children.  All starved and wretched through their father’s selfish ways.  He can’t help himself.  He says so.  He has proved it.  He is dead in drunkenness.

     “Here lies Harry Please-Yourself

     “Mad on footballing, theatres, music-halls, dances, and the like. 
     Nothing else morning, noon, or night seems to interest him.  There
     he is, dead in pleasure.

     “Here lies James Haughtiness

     “Full of high notions about his abilities, or his knowledge, or his
     family, or his house, or his fortune, or his business, or his dogs,
     or something.  There he is, dead in pride.

     “Here lies Jane Featherhead

     “Absorbed in her hats, and gowns, and ribbons, and companions, and
     attainments.  There she is, dead in vanity.

     “Here lies Miser Graspall

“Taken up with his money—­sovereigns, dollars, francs, kroner, much or little.  ‘Let me have more and more’ is his dream, and his cry, and his aim, by night and day.  There he is, dead in covetousness.

     “Here lies Sceptical Doubtall

“Hunting through the world of nature, and revolution, and providence, and specially through the dirty world of his own dark little heart, for arguments against God and Christ and Heaven.  There he is, dead in infidelity.

     “Here lies Jeremiah Make-Believe