d me good to hear that man talk. I could listen to him for a
week;" and he tells the truth; for if the man stays a week, and works
up something of an _excitement_, this rock-hearer will go every night
and praise every sermon. I am sorry to say, however, that the devil
does not try very hard to get the Word out of that man's heart,
because he knows that if he leaves it alone just a little while it
will _die_ out of itself. The real trouble with this man is a want of
WILL to reduce to practice the _truth_ received into the
_understanding_. The rock, underneath the skin of soil that hides it,
is a WILL which is wholly averse to the life of self-denial and godly
obedience set forth in the Word which he hears. He loves the world and
himself more than God; and the delight or joy with which he hears the
Word is all in the _understanding_. The words of life and salvation
fade from his memory, because there is no desire in his heart or WILL
to retain them, as the things that belong to his everlasting peace.

Next in order comes the thorny-ground hearer. He may be a man of
talent, perhaps a genius. Naturally thoughtful and ambitious, he
covets both wealth and honors. He is not entirely forgetful of the
claims of religion upon him. He goes to church with his family;
behaves genteelly; invites the ministers to his house, and entertains
them very hospitably. He thinks religion a very good thing in society,
and one that ought to be encouraged. You often hear people say of him:
"What a pity he is not a member of the church: how much good he could
do!" In all matters of public interest he takes an active part. During
an electoral canvass he is all astir, and wonders how any one can be
indifferent at such a time, or even show a moderate degree of
coolness. He is a useful man in society, and his loss would be keenly
felt by the community. The real trouble with this man is akin to that
of all the rest. It has its seat right in the WILL. He loves the
world, and the world loves him; and to hold his place in society he
must comply with its demands. He must not be scrupulous about small
matters. He must take a drink with a friend. If invited to take part
in some pastime or popular amusement, even if it be of doubtful moral
character, he dare not decline the invitation. If memory should even
blow the ashes from some live coals of truth, and conscience
remonstrate, he must ignore all weakness of that kind. Such and
such-like are the thorns that