At the time of this change, she was led to a church where Evangelical truth was preached simply and plainly; and thus became distinctly enlightened as to the way of salvation.  She fully assented and consented to what she heard, and therefore became a very earnest disciple, enthusiastic about the sovereignty of God and the doctrines of grace, and all such matters.  She understood the meaning of the Levitical types and offerings; could speak of dispensational truth and prophecy; was very zealous about missions to the heathen, and was also earnestly devoted to many charitable works at home.

There was, however, one little suspicious thing in the midst of all this manifest goodness.  She had not much patience with elementary Gospel sermons, or much interest in, or sympathy with, efforts made to bring in perishing souls; she loved rather to be fed with high doctrines, and the mysteries of grace with its deeper teachings.  There are some men who love to preach exclusively about these things, even before mixed congregations, addressing them as if they were all real Christians.

It is surprising how many people there are just like Mary, who seem to care more for doctrines than for Cod Himself—­more for favourite truths than for souls.  A simple, elementary Gospel address, with some clear illustrations, was just the very thing Mary wanted for her own soul’s good, more than anything; but, unfortunately, this was the thing against which she was prejudiced, for she abhorred “anecdotal sermons.”

After hearing her story, I said, “It is very interesting; but there is one great deficiency in it.  You have not told me anything’ about Christ; have you nothing to say about the blood of Jesus, and about your sins?  Have you had no real transaction with ’God about them?”

She said she “did not know what I meant.”

“Did you never come as a sinner, and obtain the forgiveness of your sins?”

“No,” she replied; “that is what I do not understand about your teaching.”

I showed her, as plainly as I could, that she had not told me about conversion, but reformation.  “You have only turned over a new leaf, and kept your resolutions prayerfully and well for eleven years; but this is not turning back the old leaves of your past life, and getting them washed in the blood of the Lamb.  ‘He that covers his sins’ in this way, ‘can never prosper.’  If a man owes a debt for which he is very sorry, and determines that in future he will pay for everything he gets—­this will not pay his past debts.”

She went on to justify herself, and said, “that she knew a great many good Christian people, and that none of them had ever suspected her as I did.”

I endeavoured to assure her that I was dreadfully alarmed about her condition, and was certain that if she died like that, there would be no more hope for her salvation than for her cousin’s.  This seemed to rouse her hostility, and I saw that I had lost influence.  However, I could not blame myself, for I had only said what I felt to be true.  I returned home and prayed for more wisdom.  All that night I could not sleep, and most of it was spent in pleading with God.  I felt as if a restless bird was flying about the room, and something was saying, “She will be lost forever.”  I urged my petition again and again.