be done is another
question. About that I shall have something to say as we go along.
For the moment, I am simply occupied with the fact that you have to
call this world of holy beings into existence by spreading this
life.

"Every Officer here is located in a world of death. Sometimes we
style it a dying world, and so it is on its human side, but on its
spiritual side it is past dying; it is dead. By that I do not mean
that the spiritual nature, that is the soul, ever ceases to be in
any man. That will never come to pass. Perhaps nothing once created
will ever cease to be. Anyway, man is immortal. The soul can never
die. Neither do I mean that there is no Spiritual Life.

"By spiritual death we mean that the soul is--Separated from God;
no union with Him. In a blind man the organ may be perfect, but not
connected.

"Inactive. No love for the things God loves. No hatred for the
things He hates. Dead to His interests, His kingdom; dead to Him.

"Corrupt, bad, devilish, etc. What a valley of dry bones the world
appears to the man whose eyes have been opened to see the truth of
things. Verily, verily, it is one great cemetery crowded with men,
women, and children dead in trespasses and sin. Look for a moment
at this graveyard, in which the men around you may be said to lie
with their hearts all dead and cold to Christ, and all that
concerns their Salvation. Look at it. The men and women and
children in your town are buried there. The men and women in your
city, in your street. Nay, the very people who come to your Hall to
hear you talk on a Sunday night are there. There they lie. Let us
read the inscriptions on some of their tombs:--

"_Here lies Tom Jones_

"He had a beautiful nature, and a young, virtuous wife, and some
beautiful children. All starved and wretched through their father's
selfish ways. He can't help himself. He says so. He has proved it.
He is dead in drunkenness.

"_Here lies Harry Please-Yourself_

"Mad on footballing, theatres, music-halls, dances, and the like.
Nothing else morning, noon, or night seems to interest him. There
he is, dead in pleasure.

"_Here lies James Haughtiness_

"Full of high notions about his abilities, or his knowledge, or his
family, or his house, or his fortune, or hi