I heard once of a man who went to England from the Continent, and
brought letters with him to eminent physicians from the Emperor. The
letters said:
"This man is a personal friend of mine, and we are afraid he is going
to lose his reason. Do all you can for him."
The doctor asked him if he had lost any dear friend in his own
country, or any position of importance, or what it was that was
weighing on his mind.
The young man said: "No; but my father and grandfather and myself were
brought up infidels, and for the last two or three years this thought
has been haunting me, 'Where shall I spend eternity?' And the thought
of it follows me day and night."
The doctor said, "You have come to the wrong physician, but I will
tell you of One who can cure you"; and he told him of Christ, and read
to him the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, "With His stripes we are
healed."