and make him believe there is something wrong in it.

The struggle came sooner than I thought in this man's case. When he
was on his way home the devil assailed him. He used this text, but the
devil put this thought into his mind: "How do you know Christ ever
said that after all? Perhaps the translators made a mistake."

Into darkness he went again. He was in trouble till about two in the
morning. At last he came to this conclusion. Said he:

"I will believe it anyway; and when I get to heaven, if it isn't true,
I will just tell the Lord _I_ didn't make the mistake--the translators
made it."

The kings and princes of this world, when they issue invitations, call
round them the rich, the mighty and powerful, the honorable and the
wise; but the Lord, when He was on earth; called round Him the vilest
of the vile. That was the principal fault the people found with Him.
Those self-righteous Pharisees were not going to associate with
harlots and publicans. The principal charge against Him was: "This man
receiveth sinners and eateth with them." Who would have such a man
around him as John Bunyan in his time? He, a Bedford tinker, couldn't
get inside one of the princely castles. I was very much amused when I
was over on the other side. They had erected a monument to John
Bunyan, and it was unveiled by lords and dukes and great men. While he
was on earth, they would not have allowed him inside the walls of
their castles. Yet he was made one of the mightiest instruments in the
spread of the Gospel. No book that has ever been written comes so near
the Bible as John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." And he was a poor
Bedford tinker. So it is with God. He picks up some poor, lost tramp,
and makes him an instrument to turn hundreds and thousands to Christ.

George Whitefield, standing in his tabernacle in London, and with a
multitude gathered about him, cried out: "The Lord Jesus will save the
devil's castaways!"

Two poor abandoned wretches standing outside in the street, heard him,
as his silvery voice rang out on the air. Looking into each other's
faces, they said: "That must mean you and me." They wept and rejoiced.
They drew near and looked in at the door, at the face of the earnest
messenger, the tears streaming from his eyes as he plead with the
people to give their hearts to God. One of them wrote him a little
note and sent it to him.

Later that day, as he sat at the table of Lady Huntington, who was his
special friend