O this mercy of God! I am told it is an ocean. Then I place on it four swift sailing craft, with compass, and charts, and choice rigging, and skillful navigators; and I tell them to launch away, and discover for me the extent of this ocean.

That craft puts out in one direction, and sails to the north; this to the south; this to the east; this to the west. They crowd on all their canvass, and sail ten thousand years, and one day come up the harbor of heaven; and I shout to them from the beach, “Have you found the shore?” and they answer, “No shore to God’s mercy!”

Swift angels, dispatched from the throne, attempt to go across it. For a million years they fly and fly; but then they come back and fold their wings at the foot of the throne, and cry, “No shore; no shore to God’s mercy!”

Mercy! Mercy! Mercy! Ising it.

I preach it. I pray it. Here I find a man bound hand and foot to the devil; but with one stroke of the hammer of God’s truth the chains fall off, and he is free forever.

Mercy! Mercy! Mercy! There is no depth it cannot fathom.

There is no height it cannot scale. There is no infinity it cannot com pass. Talmage