u with your sin. Do not act as though you had
nothing to do with that Calvarian massacre. You had. Your sins were
the implements of torture. Those implements were not made of steel,
and iron, and wood, so much as out of your sins. Guilty of this
homicide, and this regicide, and this deicide, confess your guilt
to-day. Ten thousand voices of heaven bring in the verdict against you
of guilty, guilty. Prepare to die, or believe in that blood. Stretch
yourself out for the sacrifice, or accept the Saviour's sacrifice. Do
not fling away your one chance.

It seems to me as if all heaven were trying to bid in your soul. The
first bid it makes is the tears of Christ at the tomb of Lazarus; but
that is not a high enough price. The next bid heaven makes is the
sweat of Gethsemane; but it is too cheap a price. The next bid heaven
makes seems to be the whipped back of Pilate's hall; but it is not a
high enough price. Can it be possible that heaven can not buy you in?
Heaven tries once more. It says: "I bid this time for that man's soul
the tortures of Christ's martyrdom, the blood on His temple, the blood
on His cheek, the blood on His chin, the blood on His hand, the blood
on His side, the blood on His knee, the blood on His foot--the blood
in drops, the blood in rills, the blood in pools coagulated beneath
the cross; the blood that wet the tips of the soldiers' spears, the
blood that plashed warm in the faces of His enemies." Glory to God,
that bid wins it! The highest price that was ever paid for anything
was paid for your soul. Nothing could buy it but blood! The estranged
property is bought back. Take it. "You have sold yourselves for
nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money." O atoning blood,
cleansing blood, life-giving blood, sanctifying blood, glorifying
blood of Jesus! Why not burst into tears at the thought that for thee
He shed it--for thee the hard-hearted, for thee the lost?

"No," says some one; "I will have nothing to do with it except that,
like the Jews, I put both my hands into that carnage and scoop up both
palms full, and throw it on my head and cry: 'His blood be on us and
on our children!'" Can you do such a shocking thing as that? Just rub
your handkerchief across your brow and look at it. It is the blood of
the Son of God whom you have despised and driven back all these years.
Oh, do not do that any longer! Come out frankly and boldly and
honestly, and tell Christ you are sorry. You can not afford to