Your case is sad, very sad. James Smith, The Way to be Saved, 1856. Then the king will turn to those on the left and say, Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons. and they will go away into eternal punishment. Matthew 25, 41, 46. Lost sinner, your case is sad, very sad. You are an enemy to God, in open and avowed rebellion against Him. You are forcing your passage to blackness, darkness, and eternal woe, through a thousand obstacles which are thrown in your way, and oh how fearful will your end be! What, oh what a dreadful end must yours be! In hell, you will be forever deprived of the glorious presence of God. You will never see light, but be in perpetual darkness. Your abode will be a prison where there is no comfort but horror, no voice but of blasphemous cursing God, no sound but the howling of the tortured, no society but devils and damned people, and these, being tormented themselves, will eternally torment you. You must experience punishment without pity, misery without mercy, sorrow without support, crying without comfort, mischief without measure, torment without ease, where the worm never dies and the fire is never quenched. The wrath of God will seize upon your soul and body like fire, and in the flame you will be forever burning, but never consumed, ever dying, but never dead, ever roaring with pain, but know no end of these pains. Your torments will be always beginning. Your reflections will be, All this I procured by my sin. This I chose in preference to heaven. I myself am to blame for my destruction, and God is just. Great God, Awaken, awaken the sinner. Open, O open his eyes. Snatch, O snatch him as a brand from the burning, and save him through Jesus' blood. If this is not the case, lost sinner, you may look forward, and exclaim, Infinite years in torment shall I spend, and never, never, never end. Ah, I must live in torturing despair As many years as atoms in the air, When all these doleful years are spent in pain, And multiplied by myriads again, Till numbers drown thought, could I suppose, That then my wretched years were at a close? This would afford some ease, but ah, I shiver To think upon the dreadful word for ever The burning gulf where I blaspheming lie, Is time no more, but vast eternity.