Written By: John Robertson | Posted: Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010
There is an old tale in our Scottish history, that a bridegroom was murdered by a friend on the festal day. The cup that his friend presented to him was mingled with poison; and when death was in the castle, the culprit took the fleetest horse and plunged into the forest. All night long the hoofs of that horse struck fire as he went at galloping speed through the forest.
The man wanted to get away from the scene of his crime, and would not let the fleet animal rest, but plunged the spurs deep into the horse's flanks. All night on and on, as the dawn was breaking he emerged, horse bespattered with foam, breathless from the forest--right before the castle. He had ridden hard, but he had ridden round: he thought he was going away from his crime, and in the morning he came to it. Ah, you cannot get away from your sins unless God takes you away. You cannot by speed of foot get away from your sin, your sin will go to the grave with you, your sin will go to the great white throne with you. You cannot race your sin, you had better give it up, and see whether God in his mercy hath not some plan of redemption from sin.