ng of
his work, and the number of converts he reported at different meetings
he had held, led me to ask how they were doing since then. He replied
that a goodly number appeared to continue faithful; but he added that
some had burnt out by unholy fire, and that others had frozen out by
unholy frost. I afterward thought this to myself, that here was the
commingled fire and hail which John, in his apocalyptic vision, saw
falling from the same cloud. Ah, Brethren, let us beware of the unholy
fire of evil passion, anger, malice, wrath, strife, that would burn
and consume our love for one another; and on the other hand avoid all
feelings and expressions or other manifestations of contempt, or
neglect, or unkindness that would freeze it to death.

This brings me now to speak of forgiveness. You have read the story,
told by our Lord, of the debtor who owed the ten thousand talents, and
was forgiven the debt; and how he afterward treated a fellow-debtor
who owed him a hundred pence; and how the first debtor was delivered
to the tormentors because he would not forgive his fellow-servant. "So
shall also my heavenly Father do unto you,"--says our Lord--"if ye
forgive not every one his brother from your hearts." Brethren, you and
the Lord for it. I this day wash my hands clean of your blood as I
repeat in your ears these words of love and warning: "If ye forgive
men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But
if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father
forgive your trespasses."

When I was yet a boy in Pennsylvania, before we moved to Virginia, my
father very strictly forbade me playing marbles on Sunday. I obeyed
his orders for some time; but one Sunday, when father was at church, a
neighbor's boy came to our house and persuaded me to play with him. I
did it reluctantly. The play did not amuse me as usual. But I
transgressed all the same; and in the very act my father saw me on his
return home. He called me to come to him. Expecting chastisement, I
went with trembling steps. I never had felt so unhappy in my life.
"What were you doing?" he asked. I burst into tears. "Are you very
sorry for what you have done?" I nodded and wept assent. "Come a
little nearer to me." I went; and he then drew a handkerchief from his
coat pocket and gently wiped away my tears, saying at the same time,
"I feel sure, Johnny, that you are very sorry for what you have done,
and I forgive you with a kiss." Ah, Br