August 5

"Herod . . . said, This is John the Baptist; he is risen from the dead."—Matthew 14:1, 2.

Is it not a parable of the Preacher Conscience?

How Conscience rings out solemn and unwelcome truth. It accuses the sinner of his sin. It will not let him rest. It keeps him wretched and miserable. Its wounds are keen, though they are most salutary and wholesome. Is it not hard for him to kick against the sharp point of its iron goad?

How Conscience may be imprisoned and silenced. There are dungeons into which the stern Preacher may be thrust—dungeons of forgetfulness, of infatuation, of self-will. Yet, even now, the weak and headstrong and wayward soul will go down to talk with its mentor at times, and Mr. Recorder continues to make his voice heard every little while.

How Conscience may be slain—for the tragedy is deepening, and the heart's midnight draws on apace. At last comes a time when God's prophet has nothing more to say. It is as though he lay cold and speechless and still in a martyr's grave. There is peace in the soul; but it is the peace of death, and the last state of that man is worse than the first.

How Conscience rises again from his grave. For, out of the silence and the sepulchre, the Preacher returns ere long. But now his name is Remorse, Judgment, Despair. Even Jesus and His love are full of dread, lurid and terrifying, to the spirit. Its day of grace is done. There is no comfort for it anywhere.

Ah, Lord, grant that Thy remembrancer Conscience may drive me to Thee, as he seeks to do, and not to these fears and desolations which are without cure.