Away back in the infancy of the world I hear one of the earliest of the
Patriarchs uttering a great and bitter cry. '_I have sinned!_' he cries;
'_what shall I do?_' And, as I turn over the leaves of my Bible, I find
that question echoed again and again, generation after generation and
age after age. Yet never once does it receive the slightest hint or
suggestion of an answer. And, depend upon it, if the Son of Man had
never come into the world, it would have echoed round the globe--still
unanswered and unanswerable--until this day. 'O Plato, Plato!' cried
Socrates, 'it may be that the gods can forgive sin, but, alas, I do not
see how!' Nor anybody else. Job's question fell back upon his face; the
universe could give him no reply. It is very striking. And so, here at
the beginning of my Bible, I hear the first man's question; and, here at
the end of my Bible, I hear the last man's answer!
'_What shall I do? What shall I do?_'
'_I have sinned; what shall I do?_'
'_The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin!_'