I knew a young man not long ago, and when I called to see him on his dying bed he took hold of my hand and said, “Richard, pray for me, that God may forgive me. But oh, it is too late! it is too late!” I tried to pray to God to bless him. His poor wife was there. “Ah, my lass,” he said, “I refused when God called me, and now He mocks me when my calamity is come. Oh, my wife! my wife! I am going where mercy never comes, and where pardon is never offered, and where a drop of water is never given. I am going to be lost!” And he died the next day, saying, “I’m lost! I’m lost!”