"Woe unto you, for ye
would not be warned! Woe unto you, for ye knew your Lord's will, and
yet committed things worthy of stripes! Therefore your whip shall be
one of scorpions! Woe unto you! I say; for, when the bridegroom cometh,
ye shall knock in vain at the closed door; ye shall stand without, and
listen for a brief moment to the music and dancing within--listen with
longing hearts, till the rush of coming wings overpowers the blissful
sounds, and the angels of vengeance sweep upon you, and bearing you
afar through waste regions, cast you into outer darkness, where shall
be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, to the endless ages of a
divine eternity."
With these words the preacher burst into impassioned prayer for the
souls which he saw exposed to a hell of which he himself knew not the
horrors, else he dared not have preached it; a hell the smoke of whose
torments would arise and choke the elect themselves about the throne of
God--the hell of Exhausted Mercy.
As long as the stream of eloquence flowed the eyes of the congregation
were fixed upon the preacher in breathless silence. When it ceased they
sank, and a sigh of exhaustion and relief arose.
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