Without Christ there is no peace.
See that poor soul hunted by the dogs of hell-- It flies
swift as the wind, but far faster do the hunters pursue.
It seeks a covert yonder in the pleasures of the world,
but the baying of the hell-hounds affright it in the festive
It seeks to toil up the mountain of good works,
but its legs are all too weak to bear it beyond the
It doubles; it changes its tack; it goes from right to left,
but the hell-dogs are too swift of foot,
and too strong of wind to lose their prey.
Until Jesus Christ shall open his bosom for that
poor hunted thing to hide itself within,
it shall have no peace.
Spurgeon, "Without Christ"