uch wish to
turn your attention to-night.

With great tenderness, but at the same time with the greatest possible
gravity, Prudence asked the pilgrim whether he did not still think
sometimes of the country from whence he had come out. Yes, he replied;
how could I help thinking continually of that unhappy country and of my
sad and miserable life in it; but, believe me,--or, rather, you cannot
believe me,--with what shame and detestation I always think of my past
life. My face burns as I now speak of my past life to you, and as I
think what my old companions know and must often say about me. I detest,
as you cannot possibly understand, every remembrance of my past life, and
I hate and never can forgive myself, who, with mine own hands, so filled
all my past life with shame and self-contempt. Gently stopping the
remorseful pilgrim's self-accusations about his past life, Prudence asked
him if he had not still with him, and, indeed, within him, some of the
very things that had so destroyed both him and all his past life. 'Yes,'
he honestly and humbly said. 'Yes, but greatly against my will:
especially my inward and sinful cogitations.' At this Prudence looked on
him with all her deep and soft eyes, for it was to this that she had been
leading the conversation up all the time. Prudence had a great look of
satisfaction, mingled with love and pity, at the way the pilgrim said
'especially my inward and sinful cogitations.' Those who stood by and
observed Prudence wondered at her delight in the sad discourse on which
the pilgrim now entered. But she had her own reasons for her delight in
this particular kind of discourse, and it was seldom that she lighted on
a pilgrim who both understood her questions and responded to them as did
this man now sitting beside her. Now, my brethren, all parable apart, is
that your religious experience? Are you full of shame and detestation at
your inward cogitations? Are you tormented, enslaved, and downright
cursed with your own evil thoughts? I do not ask whether or no you have
such thoughts always within you. I do not ask, because I know. But I
ask, because I would like to make sure that you know what, and the true
nature of what, goes on incessantly in your mind and in your heart. Do
you, or do you not, spit out your most inward thoughts ten times a day
like poison? If you do, you are a truly religious man, and if you do
not, you do not yet know the very ABC of true religion, a