his
discomfiture, and look back, and look up at the storm gathering, and
the billowy darkness of death has rolled upon the sheeted flash of
the storm, you will discover the utter desolation of those who are
outside of the refuge.

What you propose to do in this matter you had better do right away. A
mistake this morning may never be corrected. Jesus, the Great Captain
of salvation, puts forth his wounded hand to-day to cheer you on the
race to heaven. If you despise it, the ghastliest vision that will
haunt the eternal darkness of your soul will be the gaping, bleeding
wounds of the dying Redeemer.

Jesus is to be crucified to-day. Think not of it as a day that is
past. He comes before you to-day weary and worn. Here is the cross,
and here is the victim. But there are no nails, and there are no
thorns, and there are no hammers. Who will furnish these? A man out
yonder says: "I will furnish with my sins the nails!" Now we have the
cross, and the victim, and the nails. But we have no thorns. Who will
furnish the thorns? A man in the audience says: "With my sins I will
furnish the thorns!" Now we have the cross, the victim, the nails, and
the thorns. But we have no hammers. Who will furnish the hammers? A
voice in the audience says: "My hard heart shall be the hammer!"
Everything is ready now. The crucifixion goes out! See Jesus dying!
"Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world."

STRIPPING THE SLAIN.

"And it came to pass on the morrow, when the Philistines came
to strip the slain, that they found Saul and his three sons
fallen in Mount Gilboa."--I. SAM. xxxi: 8.

Some of you were at South Mountain, or Shiloh, or Ball's Bluff, or
Gettysburg, and I ask you if there is any sadder sight than a
battle-field after the guns have stopped firing? I walked across the
field of Antietam just after the conflict. The scene was so sickening
I shall not describe it. Every valuable thing had been taken from the
bodies of the dead, for there are always vultures hovering over and
around about an army, and they pick up the watches, and the memorandum
books, and the letters, and the daguerreotypes, and the hats, and the
coats, applying them to their own uses. The dead make no resistance.
So there are always camp followers going on and after an army, as when
Scott went down into Mexico, as when Napoleon marched up toward
Moscow, as when Von Moltke went to Sedan. There is a similar scene in
my te