His colleague, accordingly, whose sense of sin was less acute that day, took the public worship, while the Fast-day preacher still lay sick in his closet at home and wrote thus on the ground: 'I am no more worthy to be called Thy son,' he wrote.

'Behold me here, Lord, a poor, miserable sinner, weary of myself, and afraid to look up to Thee.

Wilt Thou heal my sores?
Wilt Thou take out the stains?
Wilt Thou deliver me from the shame?
Wilt Thou rescue me from this chain of sin?
Cut me not off in the midst of my sins.

Let me have liberty once again to be among Thy redeemed ones, eating and drinking at Thy table.

But, O my God, to-day I am an unclean worm, a dead dog, a dead carcass, deservedly cast out from the society of Thy saints.