O, that every unconfessed, hidden or forgotten sin of your life might just now have a thousand tongues to sing a painful dirge of condemnation. Let your iniquities be given speech and hiss and torment you until you repent, let every transgression purposely or carelessly forgotten have a resurrection. As you lie in bed tonight, let the ghost of everyone of those sins tramp your bedroom, call your name, and with a sepulchral voice and skeleton fingers point and claim you as their parents. Better for you to have one sleepless night on earth than millions in hell. Men toss on their beds in perdition just now for less than you have done ! Defoe tells us that Robinson Crusoe stood aghast when he saw the first foot print on his island. You did, too, after telling your first lie; but it’s easy now ! Your soul seemed pierced as with a hot iron the first time you stole; now you laugh about it.

Fools scorn innocence; idiots alone laugh at chastity–would to God that the cord which is broken may vibrate once more, and you feel and own your own leprosy before Him! If you own and accept your guilt, then why try to remove it yourself? Bodies of beasts which, if they could be amassed together, would be higher than mount Everest, have been offered on Jewish altars, and from underneath those altars rivers of blood have poured. But they have been fruitless and unavailing efforts to eradicate sin.

– Leonard Ravenhill

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