tion was to be found at the other
end of the green. There were other pullers at the rope that day, pulling
with all their might in an exactly opposite direction. It was not a
united pull, and therefore for a long time there was no result, and we
watched on, until at length one side was proved the strongest, and the
handkerchief was drawn by them triumphantly across the line.

'To-day, dear friends, I speak to you of yet another tug of war. The
place is the same, Runswick Bay and our village green, but the weight to
be drawn is not a boat, not a handkerchief; the weight is _a human
soul._ It is your soul, my friend, your immortal soul; _you_ are
the one who is being drawn.

'And who are the pullers? Oh, how many they are! I myself have my hands
on the rope. God only knows how hard I am pulling, striving with all my
might, if possible to draw you, my friend, to Christ. But there are
other hands on the rope besides mine. Your conscience pulls, your good
old mother pulls, your little child pulls, your Christian mate pulls;
each sermon you hear, each Bible class you attend, each hymn you sing,
each prayer uttered in your presence, each striving of the Spirit, each
God-given yearning after better things, each storm you come through,
each danger you escape, each sickness in your family, each death in your
home, each deliverance granted you, gives you a pull God-ward,
Christ-ward, heaven-ward.

'Yet, oh, my dear friend, you know, as clearly as you know that you are
sitting there, that, so far, Christ's pullers are drawing in vain. You
have never yet, you know it, crossed the line which divides the saved
from the unsaved. Why is this? Why, oh, why are you so hard to move?

'Oh, my friend, do you ask why? Surely you know the reason! Is it not
because there are other hands on the rope, other pullers drawing in an
exactly opposite direction? For Satan has many an agent, many a servant,
and he sends forth a great army of soul-pullers. Each worldly friend,
each desire of your evil nature, each temptation to sin, each longing
after wealth, each sinful suggestion, gives you a pull, and a pull the
wrong way, away from safety, away from Christ, away from God, away from
heaven, away from Home. And towards what? Oh, dear friend, towards what?
What are the depths, the fearful depths towards which you are being
drawn?'

He said a good deal more, but I did not hear it. That question seemed
burnt in with a red-hot iron into my soul. What