r, and I knew nothing more. They found me at ten minutes past one
Tuesday morning. At first they thought I was dead. Then they saw my
head rise and fall while I weakly pounded on a rock with a stick that I
had caught in my delirium." This is to me a striking picture of what
sin does for us. There is no one so strong but he may be overpowered
by its awful influence. God save us from it, for "The wicked shall not
be unpunished."

III

Oh, is there no hope? For it would seem from the message thus far as
if nothing but despair was ahead of us. Two ways to escape from the
power of sin have been suggested; one is man's way, the other is God's.
Let us consider them both.

1. Man suggests reformation. But how about the sins of the past? They
are still untouched. Man tells the sinner to do his best; but how
about the will which has been weakened by sinful practices, and which
seems unable to act? Man tells the depraved man to change his
surroundings; but how about the heart that is unclean? The fact is,
man's way will not reach us.

In January, 1904, the American Liner New York left Southampton and came
into the New York harbor with a sad story to tell. A sailor was
suspended over the side of the vessel making repairs when an enormous
wave tore him away, and he was very soon under the forepart of the
ship. The waves began to carry him away, and a life line was thrown to
him with a buoy attached. The sailor, sometimes visible and then
obscured by the rising of a swell, grasped the line, and a cheer went
up. He took a half turn with the line around his waist, was rolling
himself over into the bight of the line and it looked as if he would be
saved. The sailors on deck were just about to haul in. The poor
fellow's hands and fingers must have been numb, for he suddenly rolled
out of the half-formed bight, losing his grip upon the line.

None of the passengers could help the man, none of the crew dared jump
to his rescue, no boat could live in such a maelstrom. The sailor, who
was struggling and being whirled around and bobbing like a cork, his
oilskins partially spreading out and sustaining him, kept drifting
further and further away.

Aroused by the commotion, the second officer came on deck just as the
sailor lost his hold. Tossing aside his cap, overcoat and jacket, he
bade the seamen take a bowline hitch around his body and lower him
away. The volunteer life-saver was cheered by the passengers as h