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Somewhere in the Arctic ice fields a ship was caught and held fast, and the men all died in the terrible cold. Years afterward a search party found the little vessel, and as they drew near, it seemed as if the men were yet alive and at their post. The captain sat at a table, with his pen in his hand, writing his log. Others were found in their places – some at the ropes, one at the lookout, and one at the helm; but when the rescuers came closer they saw that the men were all dead. They had been dead for years, though having in their frozen state all the semblance of life.
It would be a sad thing if the angels, as they fly over this earth on their rounds for God, ever see such a sight. God pity us if we are dead, any of us, in our Christian profession. The Church should not have in it one dead member. It should be alive from the minister to the least disciple.