ld lose it; won't you get it insured
right away?"

The father leaned his head on his hand, and was silent. He owned broad
acres of land that were covered with a bountiful produce; his barns
were even now filled with plenty, his buildings were all well covered
by insurance; and as if that would not suffice for the maintenance of
his wife and only child in case of his decease, he had, the day
before, taken a life-policy for a large amount; yet not one thought
had he given to his own immortal soul. On that which was to waste away
and become part and parcel of its native dust he had spared no pains;
but for that which was to live on and on through the long ages of
eternity he had made no provision. "What shall it profit a man if he
gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

Memory

I have been twice at the point of death. I was drowning once, and just
as I was going down the third time I was rescued. In the twinkling of
an eye my whole life came flashing across my mind. I cannot tell you
how it was. I cannot tell you how a whole life can be crowded into a
second of time; but everything I had done from my earliest
childhood--it all came flashing across my mind. And I believe that
when God touches the secret spring of memory, every one of our sins
will come back, and if they have not been blotted out by the blood of
the Lord Jesus Christ, they will haunt us as eternal ages roll on.

We talk about our forgetting, but we cannot forget if God says
"Remember." We talk about the recording angel keeping the record of
our life. I have an idea that when we get to heaven, or into eternity,
we will find that recording angel has been ourselves. God will make
every one of us keep our own record; these memories will keep the
record, and when God shall say, "Son, remember," it will all flash
across our mind. It won't be God who will condemn us; it will be
ourselves. We shall condemn ourselves, and we shall stand before God
speechless.

There is a man in prison. He has been there five years. Ask that man
what makes the prison so terrible to him. Ask him if it is the walls
and the iron gates--ask him if it is his hard work, and he will tell
you _no_; he will tell you what makes the prison so terrible to him
is _memory_; and I have an idea that if we got down into the lost
world, we would find that is what makes hell so terrible--the
remembrance that they once heard the Gospel, that they once had Christ
offered to them, that they