meeting in Tripler Hall, New York.
Thousands of people were huzzaing, and the same kind of audiences were
assembled at the same time in Boston, Edinburgh, and London. Why?
Because the Madaii family, in Italy, had been robbed of their Bible.
"A little thing," you say. Ah, that injustice was enough to arouse the
indignation of a world. But while we are so sensitive about injustice
as between man and man, how little sensitive we are about injustice
between man and God. If there ever was a fair and square purchase of
anything, then Christ purchased us. He paid for us, not in shekels,
not in ancient coins inscribed with effigies of Hercules, or AEgina's
tortoise, or lyre of Mitylene, but in two kinds of coin--one red, the
other glittering--blood and tears! If anything is purchased and paid
for, ought not the goods to be delivered? If you have bought property
and given the money, do you not want to come into possession of it?
"Yes," you say, "I will have it. I bought and paid for it." And you
will go to law for it, and you will denounce the man as a defrauder.
Ay, if need be, you will hurl him into jail. You will say: "I am bound
to get that property. I bought it. I paid for it!"

Now, transpose the case. Suppose Jesus Christ to be the wronged
purchaser on the one side, and the impenitent soul on the other,
trying to defraud Him of that which He bought at such an exorbitant
price, how do you feel about that injustice? How do you feel toward
that spiritual fraud, turpitude and perfidy? A man with an ardent
temperament rises and he says that such injustice as between man and
man is bad enough, but between man and God it is reprehensible and
intolerable, and he brings his fist down on the pew, and he says: "I
can stand this injustice no longer. After all this purchase, 'if any
man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha'!"

I go still further, and show you how suicidal it is for a man not to
love Christ. If a man gets in trouble, and he can not get out, we have
only one feeling toward him--sympathy and a desire to help him. If he
has failed for a vast amount of money, and can not pay more than ten
cents on a dollar--ay, if he can not pay anything--though his
creditors may come after him like a pack of hounds, we sympathize with
him. We go to his store, or house, and we express our condolence. But
suppose the day before that man failed, William E. Dodge had come into
his store and said: "My friend, I hear y