d not rise
from the bed, nor the soul be any longer deceived with the thought of
years to come, it was horrible to hear the cries they uttered, and the
wild things that they said about beasts, and birds, and insects tortured
by them in the days of their health and strength. There was one in
particular, a butcher's boy, who could not be comforted: he said, the
calves, the sheep, and the lambs, had provoked him by their
unwillingness to be caught and driven into the slaughter-yard, and he
had revenged himself by making their deaths as painful as he could; and
that he saw them then--whether his eyes were open or shut, he always saw
them--all bleeding, and torn, and struggling, as they used to do: and
whatever was said to him, or whatever noise was made, he heard their
cries of agony louder than all. When he was told that God was merciful,
he answered, "Yes; but I had no mercy, and there is no mercy for me." I
wish I could tell you that he died praying for pardon; but, alas! he
died shrieking out that he must go to hell. At that time, I was asked to
write a book about it, to warn others; but I was so much shocked that I
could not write about it. I mention it now, to show you that sometimes,
even in this world, the dreadful work of judgment is begun--judgment
without mercy, to those who show no mercy.

But you must not suppose that Jack's happiness and peace, and confidence
in God, came from any thing that he had done, or any thing that he had
refrained from doing. No, it was all from believing with his whole heart
that God loved him for the sake of his dear son, the Lord Jesus Christ.
Now, if Jack has said, or fancied, that he loved God, and had at the
same time been cruel, or lived in any other sin, it would have proved
that he was mistaken, and he would have had no real peace. If you pass
by a garden and see clusters of fine ripe grapes hanging from the boughs
of a tree, and anybody should say to you, "That's a fine vine," you
would agree with him at once; but if he pointed to a tree where
horse-chestnuts were growing, and called it a vine, you would laugh at
him; you know the difference between a sweet juicy grape, and a hard,
bitter, uneatable horse-chestnut. Yet you would not say that the grapes
made the vine, would you? No, they did not make it a vine, but they
proved it to be one. If a boy were to tie bunches of grapes to a
horse-chestnut tree, and tell you it was a vine, you would say no, it is
not a real vine--the