The
belief has been born in us; it has run through our blood for hundreds
of years. Do you know what I've honestly believed for years about a lot
of religious men in this town, you among the number? I've believed that
Jesus was so good that you've all been making hypocritical excuses,
through your theology, to get away from this!"
"Get away from my Saviour!" gasped the deacon.
"Oh, no; you wanted enough of Him to be saved by,--enough to die by;
but when it comes to living by him--well, you know perfectly well that
you don't."
"Awful!" again groaned the deacon.
"When I heard of that wretched convict taking his Saviour as an
exemplar of daily life and conduct, it seemed ridiculous. If better men
couldn't do it, how could he? I had no doubt that while he was under
lock and key, with no temptations about him, and nothing to resist, he
had succeeded; but that he could do it in the face of all his old
influences I did not for an instant believe. I began to study him, as I
would any other criminal, and when he did not break down as soon as I
had expected, I was mean enough--God forgive me!--to try to shake his
faith. The honest truth is, I did not want to be a Christian myself,
and had resisted all the arguments I had heard; but I was helpless when
dear friends told me that nothing was impossible to me that was being
accomplished by a common fellow like Sam Kimper.
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