(a) If Christ does not rule us, a mob of tyrants will.

Our own passions. Our own evil habits. The fascinating sins around us.

(b) They soon cease to seem helpers, and become tyrants.

How quickly the pleasure of sin disappears--like some bird that loses
its gay plumage as it grows old.

How stern becomes the necessity to obey; how great the difficulty of
breaking off evil habits! So a man becomes the slave of his own lusts,
of his indulged tastes, which rise above all restraints and carry away
all before them, like the Euphrates in flood. Fertility is turned to
barrenness; a foul deposit of mud overlays the soil; houses on the sand
are washed away; corpses float on the tawny wave. The soul that rejects
Christ's gentle sway is harried and laid waste by a mob of base-born
tyrants. We have to make our choice--either Christ or these; either a
service which is freedom, or an apparent freedom which is slavery;
either a worship which exalts, or a worship which embrutes. 'If the Son
make you free, ye shall be free indeed.'

'There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God.' It is
peaceful to pitch our tents beside its calm flow, whereon shall go no
hostile fleets, and whence we shall but pass to the city above, in the
midst of the street whereof the 'river of water of life, clear as
crystal, proceeds out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.'