Is it the fault of God?

I see now how often God was near me―

How often his hand was upon me to stop me in the downward course―

To warn me―

Move me―

Draw me to him in unutterable mercy. 

How tender―

How faithful―

How long-suffering was He in his dealings with me―

Following me in pity all the days of my life—

As, indeed, He follows all men. 

Oh; think of it my brothers, my sisters; ye whose eyes are not yet closed in death. 

He is following you, loving you daily, continually! 

But I spurned the touch of that hand, not caring for His love, and I am lost now, having my portion with the ungodly in the place of wailing and gnashing of teeth.

I could not but be moved sometimes. 

The hand reaching down from heaven was too plainly to be felt―

The blessings it spread about my path were too great for even me to disregard them.

There were times when I felt I ought to kiss that hand of mercy, pouring out tears of repentant gratitude. 

My heart would be softened and stirred to the depth. 

If sorrow for sin was weak, yet resolutions to mend my ways seemed strong, and I believed I should never again forget how good the Lord had been.

But forget I did, losing sight of everything—

Love, gratitude, benefit and resolve—

Ay; of God himself! 

Nor was it mere forgetting—

No; I cared not to remember; turning away so fully that when trouble once more overtook me, I never even thought of him who had helped me and pitied me before.

Yes; let me confess it loudly―

It is not the fault of God that I did not come forth from earth's besetting dangers a redeemed and blessed soul!

 L. W. J. S.,, Letters from Hell, Richard Bentley & Son, London, 1889