Not far from the Wicked Valley there is a section called the Place of
Warning. It has been maintained for thousands of years by virtuous
workers from the King's Highway. It is the last warning-station that
travelers pass before reaching the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and
here with tearful earnestness do the Shining Pilgrims of the cross
speak their words of last caution, sing their sweet hymns of warning,
and put forth every other loving endeavor in the hope of snatching
some from the thoughtless throngs that go rushing by toward the Dark
Valley.
I listened and heard a voice from the Place of Warning speak to a
motley crowd that were passing.
"Whither go ye, whither go ye?"
"We go to a better place called Heaven," answered one of the company.
"Then come hither and go on the Path of Life. The way on which ye are
now traveling leadeth unto everlasting death."
"Aha! Aha! Aha!" cried they all. "We are well informed about the way
and need no foreign voice to give direction."
Then came the solemn hymn of warning in words so tender and clear that
each one could hear every sentence:
"There's a sad day coming,
A sad day coming.
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