"I tell you, you are talking - you don't know of what," he said vehemently.
"I know all about it," I answered softly.
"There is no love nor obedience in me," he repeated, searching my eyes, as if to see whether there were anything to be said to that.
"No; you are sick at heart, and dying, unless you can be cured. Can you trust Jesus to cure you? They that be whole need not a physician, He says, but those that are sick."
He was silent, gazing at me.
"Can you lay your heart, just as it is, at Jesus' feet, and ask him to take it and make it right? He says, Come."
"What must I do?"
"Trust Him."
"But you are mistaken," he said. "I am not good."
"No," said I; and then I know I could not keep back the tears from springing; - "Jesus did not come to save the good. He came to save you. He bids you trust Him, and your sins shall be forgiven, for He gave His life for yours; and He bids you come to Him, and He will take all that is wrong away, and make you clean."