Admitting for the moment that Christ can be said to have died for me in
any sense, it is only pretended that he did so in the same sort of way as
the London and North Western Railway was made for me. Granted that I am
very glad the railway was made and use it when I find it convenient, I do
not suppose that those who projected and made the line allowed me to
enter into their thoughts; the debt of my gratitude is divided among so
many that the amount due from each one is practically nil.