This shipmates, this is that other lesson, and woe to that pilot of the living God who

slights it. Woe to him whom this world charms from gospel duty. Woe to him who seeks to pour

oil upon the waters when God has brood them into a gale. Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to a Paul.

Woe to him whose good name is more to him than his goodness.

Woe to him who in this world courts not dishonor.

Woe to him who would not be true even though to be false were salvation. Yea, woe to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation.

Yea, woe to him who, as the great pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others, is himself a castaway.

He dropped and fell away from himself for a moment, then lifting his face to them again, showed a deep joy in his eyes as he cried out with a heavenly

enthusiasm.

But oh, shipmates, on the starboard hand of every woe, there is a sure delight, and higher

top of that delight than the bottom of the woe is deep.

Is not the main truck higher than the Kelsen is low?

Delight is to him a far, far upward and inward delight,

who against the proud gods and comedores of this earth

ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

Delight is to him whose strong arms yet support him when the ship of this base, treacherous

world has gone down beneath him.

Delight is to him who gives no quarter in the truth and kills, burns, and destroys all

sin though he pluck it out from under the robes of senators and judges.

Delight, top-gallant delight is to him who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven.

Delight is to him whom all the waves of the billows, the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake from this sure keel of the ages.

And eternal delight and deliciousness will be his who coming to lay him down can say with his final breath,

...