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morrow, but of this you may be certain, that the longer you delay like Pharao the harder will your heart become, till finally you are engulfed in the sea of your own iniquities. You live a vulture's life, yet you hope for a swan's death — a spotless being slowly floating down to the ocean of eternity chanting the while sweet melody. Young as you are and strong, you have no guarantee of time sufficient for such a metamorphosis, for our physical powers are like the strings of a violin — there is more danger of their snapping suddenly under the tension of youth than when relaxed with old age. But even granting that you live for years and years, will your ruling passion be overcome more easily then than now? Ah! a mountain rill is at its source quite easily crossed, but follow it down into the plain and see how broad and deep it grows. So, too, your sin; the farther, the lower you follow it, the more impassable grows the barrier between you and your God. Or will your nature be more pliant after years of sin, making conversion easier then than now? Ah! the twig is easily bent and made to grow this way or that, but engines and ropes and chains would scarce suffice to right the leaning oak. And if perchance with infinite labor the tree be made to lean from left to right, think you it will retain its new position, or will it not rather swing, back directly the tension is relaxed? So, too, a tardy conversion prompted by necessity is labor in vain, productive of no stable results, a sham, a lie. But God the just, you say, the merciful, will spare me for the little good I have done. On the contrary. His