he baby taunts or is
taunted by the accusation of being "afraid." And the sting of the taunt
lies in the probability of its truth. For in all men, alas! is born a
certain selfish weakness, to which fear can address itself. But how
strange does it appear that they who wish to inculcate noblest action,
raise to most exalted spiritual conditions, should appeal to this lowest
of motives to help them! We believe that there are many "death-bed
repentances" among hale, hearty sinners, who are approached by the same
methods, stimulated by the same considerations, frightened by the same
conceptions of possible future suffering, which so often make the chambers
of dying men dark with terrors. Fear is fear all the same whether its
dread be for the next hour or the next century. The closer the enemy, the
swifter it runs. That is all the difference. Let the enemy be surely and
plainly removed, and in one instance it is no more,--is as if it had
never been. Every thought, word, and action based upon it has come to end.

I was forcibly reminded of the conversation above quoted by some
observations I once had opportunity of making at a Methodist camp-meeting.
Much of the preaching and exhortation consisted simply and solely of
urgent, impassioned appeals to the people to repent,--not because
repentance is right; not because God is love, and it is base not to love
and obey him; not even because godliness is in itself great gain, and
sinfulness is, even temporarily, loss and ruin; but because there is a
wrath to come, which will inflict terrible and unending suffering on the
sinner. He is to "flee" for his life from torments indescribable and
eternal; he is to call on Jesus, not to make him holy, but to save him
from woe, to rescue him from frightful danger; all and every thing else is
subordinate to the one selfish idea of escaping future misery. The effect
of these appeals, of these harrowing pictures, on some of the young men
and women and children was almost too painful to be borne. They were in an
hysterical condition,--weeping from sheer nervous terror. When the
excitement had reached its highest pitch, an elder rose and told the story
of a wicked and impenitent man whom he had visited a few weeks before. The
man had assented to all that he told him of the necessity of repentance;
but said that he was not at leisure that day to attend the class meeting.
He resolved and promised, however, to do so the next week. That very
night he wa