“Plead no more that you cannot read, for here you have been taught to read.

“Plead no more the dreadful power of vicious habits that began when you were unguarded, for those habits have now been cut away from you by force and better habits substituted.

“Plead no more ignorance of God’s Word, for here day by day it is poured into your ears.

“Your situation has other less obvious advantages.  Here you are little exposed to the soul’s most dangerous enemy—­self-deception.  The world destroys thousands of sinners by flattery.  Half the great sinners upon earth are what is called respectable.  The world tells them they are good—­they believe it, and so die as they have lived, and are lost eternally.  The world, intending to be more unkind to you, is far more kind; it tells you the truth—­that you are desperate sinners.  Here, then, where everything opens your eyes, oh! fight not against yourselves.  Repent, or fearful will be the fresh guilt heaped upon your heads!  Even these words of mine must do you good or do you harm.  I tremble when I tell you so.  It is an awful thing to think.”  The preacher paused.  “You know that I love you—­that I would give my life to save one soul of all those I see before me now!  Have pity on me and on yourselves!  Let me not be so unfortunate as to add to your guilt—­I, whose heart yearns to do you good!  Oh, my poor brothers and sisters, do not pity yourselves so much less than I pity you—­do not love yourselves so much less than I love you!  Why will ye die!  Repent, and be forgiven!

“Some of you profess attachment to me—­some talk of gratitude.  There are some of my poor brothers and sisters in this jail that say to me, ‘Oh, I wish I could do something for you, sir!’ Perhaps you have noticed that I have never answered these professions.  Well, I will answer them now once for all.”

While the preacher paused there was a movement observed among the prisoners.

“Would you make me very—­very sad?  Remain impenitent!  Would you make me happy?  Repent, and turn to God!  Not to-morrow, or next day, but on your knees in your own cells the moment you go hence.  You don’t know, you can’t dream what happiness you will confer on me if you do this!”

Then, suddenly opening his arms with wonderful grace and warmth and energy, he cried, “My poor wandering sheep, come—­come to the heavenly fold!  Let me gather you as a hen gathers her chickens under her wing.  You are my anxiety, my terror—­be my joy, my consolation here, and hereafter the brightest jewels in my heavenly crown.”