by J.C. Ryle
Let me speak to your conscience. Where is your zeal? Where is your zeal for the glory of God, and for extending the Gospel throughout the world? You know well, that it is very low. You know well, that your zeal is a little feeble glimmering spark, that just lives, and no more—it is like a thing ready to die. Surely there is a fault somewhere, if this is the case. This state of things ought not to be. You, the child of God—you, redeemed at so glorious a price—you, ransomed with such precious blood—you, who are an heir of glory such as no tongue ever yet told, or eye saw; surely you ought to be a man of another kind. Surely your zeal ought not to be so small.
by J.C. Ryle
