he fetters on the limbs of the demoniac.
It may restrain for a time; but in some sweep of temptation it is
spurned and snapped asunder. On the other hand, we have the expedients
of the _reformer_. He comes with props and palliatives; soothing some
cutaneous irritation, or removing some foul condition. And let us
recognize the legitimacy of _his_ endeavor. We must approach the human
heart through the web of its external circumstances, as well as
directly. Nay, often this is the only way by which we can get at it at
all. And well may we rejoice over the rescue from specific vices, and
commend the zeal and patience which fasten upon some colossal evil to
batter and drive it from the world. But notwithstanding such noble
achievement, how many have remained among the tombs, or gone back to the
wilderness--demoniacs still! It is an old truth, but I say it as though
it were in the conviction of a fresh fact forced upon me by these great
problems that heave up in the currents of City Life; it is an
unavoidable conclusion that there is only one influence that can make
safe, and pure, and strong in goodness, those recesses out of which
issue so much social evil, and so much personal suffering. And that is
the influence not of the law-giver, nor of the reformer; but of the
Redeemer. It is that power which flows through the soul in a practical
conviction of the reality of religion. It is the help which comes from
its inspiration of divine truth and goodness in the breasts of
individual men, turning them from evil, rendering them strong against
temptation, and sending out from their lives fresh forces of
righteousness and love.

Indeed, I believe that any man who really thinks and feels, and who has
much experience of Life, will become convinced of the _necessity_ of
Religion. I would leave its claims not to the argument of the Moralist,
or the advocacy of the Pulpit, but as they urge themselves upon us here
out of the whirl, and weariness, and vicissitudes of the City. Surely,
as its calm voice appeals to the sons of men, striving in this heated
atmosphere; chasing phantoms that rise out of the dust; absorbed in the
fickle game of fortune; borne along for a little while on the top-waves
of excitement, and then dying unmarked as a rain-drop that falls into
the sea; surely as its voice appeals to these, saying--"Come unto me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest!" it
strikes the deepest chords in thousands