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A story is told of a man who took a young tiger and resolved to make a pet of it. It moved about his house like a kitten, and grew up fond and gentle. For a long time its savage, blood thirsty nature seemed changed, and it was quiet and harmless. But one day the master was playing with his pet, when by accident his hand was scratched and the beast tasted blood. That taste aroused all the tiger nature, and the ferocious animal flew on his master to tear him to pieces.
So it is with the passions and sins and lusts of our old natures that are only petted and tamed, and allowed to stay in the heart. They still crouch at the door in treacherous lurking, and in some unguarded hour they rise in all their old ferocity. It is never safe to make pets of young tigers. It is never safe to make pets of little sins.