for a change, so they merely asked for his view on the matter. "Brethren," said he, "it has been a dull year, sadly dull

to me.

Yet I mind that one did come, wee Bobby, but I suppose he is so wee he does na' count."

Shortly afterwards, however, "wee Bobby" came to the minister and said, "Pastor, do you think that I could ever learn to preach? I feel something within calling me, and it would be the happiness of my life could I lead people to Christ.'

"Well, Bobby, you might. Who knows? You might try!" And Bobby did try.

In 1814, at nineteen years of age, "Bobby" offered himself to the London Society as a missionary, and was sent to South Africa two years after Judson had been sent to Burma.

"Wee Bobby" died in 1883, at eighty-eight years of age, having returned to England a few years previously. He reached the homeland as Rev. Robert Moffat, D. D., the renowned missionary to Bechuanaland, the father-in-law of David Livingstone, and the man who had largely given direction to Livingstone's life work. The Queen of England arose in his presence-Parliament stood uncovered in respect as he entered their hall, and all the nation seemed to be singing the great hymn,

"From Greenland's icy mountains."

The noble of the land delighted to do him honor and the government awarded him a splendid testimonial. The humble old minister who had but one convert in the year, and he too "wee" to count, had been dead and forgotten for many years when the world rang with the ovation to the aged missionary, but the year in which "Bobby" Moffat was converted marked the greatest work of that minister's life, and few have ever measured up to it.

There was but one converted truly, but what a one!

When the birds of the forest derided the eagle for having but one eaglet in her nest she replied, "I know there is only one, but that one is an eagle!"

GO preach my gospel, saith the Lord,

Bid the whole world my grace receive.
He shall be saved who trusts my word
And he condemned who'll not believe.

I'll make your great commission known
And you shall prove my gospel true
By all the works that I have done

And all the wonders ye shall do.

These are the opening verses of one of Dr. Watts' great missionary hymns. A striking commentary upon the "salvation" and "condemnation" set forth in this hymn, based upon Mark xvi., 16, is in a story told by Paxton Hood in his life of Christmas Evans. In the great religious meetings held on the borders of England and Wales a hundred years ago it was not unusual to hear two sermons delivered at one session, one by a Welshman and one by an Englishman. On one such occasion Sammy Breeze, as the people delighted to call him, came down to Bristol from the mountains of Cardiganshire to preach. The other preacher was a young man "with some tints of academical training and some livid lights of a then only incipient rationalism in his mind." He took the text referred to in the above hymn, "He that believeth shall be saved and he that believeth not shall be damned." He condoned the condemnation, shaded off the darkness of the doom of unbelief and begged pardon of his audience for the sad statement made in the text.

"But, indeed," said he, "he that believeth shall be saved and he that believeth not-indeed I regret to say-I beg your pardon for uttering the terrible truth-but indeed he shall be sentenced to a place which here I dare not mention."

Then up rose Sammy Breeze and began: "I shall take the same text as my friend. He has been fery fine and told you some fery polite things. I am not fery fine nor polite, but I will tell you a little bit of truth, which is this: 'He that believeth on the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned', and I pegs no pardons. I do look round on this chapel and I do see people all fery learned and intel-lect-u-al. You do read books and study studies and fery likely you think you can mend God's word and fery sure you can mend me. You have great what you call-thoughts, and poetries, but I tell you one little word and you must not try to mend that, but if you do it will be all the same. It is this, look you: He that believeth shall be saved and he that believeth not shall be damned, and I pegs no pardons.

"And now you will say, 'What do you mean by talking in this way? Who are you, sir?' And I will tell you I am just Sammy Preeze-I have come from the mountains of Cardiganshire upon my Master's business, and his message I must deliver. If you shall never hear me again, it shall not matter much, but while you shall hear me you shall hear me, and this is his word in me, and in me to you, 'He that believeth in the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved and he that believeth not shall be damned.'

This was his introduction. He then delivered a sermon which some of those who heard it never forgot.

Under his wings I am safely abiding

Though the night deepens and tempests are wild

Is one of Mr. Sankey's splendid vehicles of melody which he sang all over the earth. It is formed upon the Ninety-first psalm, beginning, "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty."

This wonderful psalm has suffered much at the hands of modern wreckers. Let the solemn glory of the Old Testament

diction-the splendid vagueness, if you please, of the Hebrew language be rewritten in the flat and colorless prose which translators of today affect, and we would all wonder at the difference.

There are perhaps more hymns and anecdotes grouped about this psalm than around any other composition.

When Napoleon invaded Russia Czar Alexander had a heart to heart interview with the Christian man, Prince Gallitzen, during which the prince drew from his pocket a small Bible and read the Ninety-first psalm. A short time afterward, as they were about to take the field, religious services were held and the high patriarch read the Ninety-first psalm. "Did Gallitzen tell you to read that? inquired the czar. "No, your majesty, but I deemed it applicable."

At the end of the first day's march the chaplain held services in the czar's tent and read the Ninety-first psalm. "Did Gallitzen tell you to read this?" asked the emperor. "No, sire, but it seemed to me fitting." The ruler of all the Russias sent at once to Gallitzen, asking for the very book from which he had read, and never afterward parted with it.

Shortly after Charles H. Spurgeon settled in London the cholera broke out with great virulence. Mr. Spurgeon was working night and day ministering to the sick, the dying and the dead. He became greatly depressed and felt that he must withdraw for a while. One day, entertaining these feelings, he was passing down Dover street when he noticed a bit of paper wafered in a shoemaker's little window. Turning aside, he read these words from the close of this same Ninety-first psalm: "Because he hath set his love upon me therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble: I will deliver him, and honor him: With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation."

He felt that he had been specially guided to the spot and

appropriated the scripture to himself and never had another moment's hesitation, but kept steadily at his work during all the trying season.

HAD the fame of Charles Wesley depended upon this one hymn, it would have immortalized him:

Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none;

Hangs my helpless soul on thee:
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed:
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head

With the shadow of thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
All-in-all in thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,

Heal the sick, and lead the blind.

Just and holy is thy name,

I am all unrighteousness;

Vile and full of sin I am,

Thou art full of truth and grace.