w, clear across the hurricane
deck. Down she goes! Into the life-boat! Quick! One boat! One shore!
One oarsman! One salvation! You are polluted; there is but one well at
which you can wash clean. You are enslaved; there is but one
proclamation that can emancipate. You are blind; there is but one
salve that can kindle your vision. You are dead; there is but one
trumpet that can burst the grave.

I have seen men come near the refuge but not make entrance. They came
up, and fronted the gate, and looked in, but passed on, and passed
down; and they will curse their folly through all eternity, that they
despised the only refuge. Oh! forget everything else I have said, if
you will but remember that there is but one atonement, one sacrifice,
one justification, one faith, one hope, one Jesus, one refuge. There
is that old Christian. Many a scar on his face tells where trouble
lacerated him. He has fought with wild beasts at Ephesus. He has had
enough misfortune to shadow his countenance with perpetual despair.
Yet he is full of hope. Has he found any new elixir? "No," he says; "I
have found Jesus the refuge."

Christ is our only defense at the last. John Holland, in his
concluding moment, swept his hand over the Bible, and said: "Come, let
us gather a few flowers from this garden." As it was even-time he said
to his wife: "Have you lighted the candles?" "No," she said; "we have
not lighted the candles." "Then," said he, "it must be the brightness
of the face of Jesus that I see."

Ask that dying Christian woman the source of her comfort. Why that
supernatural glow on the curtains of the death-chamber; and the
tossing out of one hand, as if to wave the triumph, and the reaching
up of the other, as if to take a crown? Hosanna on the tongue. Glory
beaming from the forehead. Heaven in the eyes. Spirit departing. Wings
to bear it. Anthems to charm it. Open the gates to receive it.
Hallelujah! Speak, dying Christian--what light do you see? What sounds
do you hear? The thin lips part. The pale hand is lifted. She says:
"Jesus the refuge!" Let all in the death-chamber stop weeping now.
Celebrate the triumph. Take up a song. Clap your hands. Shout it.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

But this refuge will be of no worth to you unless you lay hold of it.
The time will come when you will wish that you had done so. It will
come soon. At an unexpected moment it will come. The castle bridge
will be drawn up and the fortress closed. When you see t