nights. At last he ventured. He was a simple, earnest man of God, with few gifts, but much grace; and as, in telling language, he uttered the story of the cross, many a head was bent, and many an eye moistened with emotion. The last hymn was being sung. The preacher moved quietly about among the people, respectfully offering them well-selected tracts. He finally closed with prayer; and, variously affected by the service, the individuals composing the congregation dispersed to their homes.

A year passed; and the preacher often wondered whether the seed sown in this, and similar services which he had conducted, bore fruit. One evening, in the autumn, he was crossing a ferry, not far from the spot he had chosen for his temple, when a rough man in the boat accosted him. "Good evening, sir: I suppose you don't know me?" touching his sailor's cap.

"No, I cannot say I do," was the answer, after a close scrutiny of the well-bronzed face.

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Ah, but I know you," exclaimed the honest tar. "Indeed!-how, or where, may I ask?"

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Well, sir, if I may tell you all about it, I should like to do."

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Pray go on, my friend."

"Do you remember preaching on the hill yonder, one Sunday evening, last summer?"

"Yes, I do."

And

"Well, I was one of your hearers-and I thank God I was! You talked of judgment to come; and I fairly shook as I stood. I thought you must have known what a sinner stood close to you, for you looked often at me, or I thought So. Before you had done, I was fairly beaten down. then you gave me a tract, which I shyly took, and with which I walked silently home. I am not ashamed to tell you that I wept all the way I went. Mine was a solitary room; and when I reached it, I sat down to read my tract. That, too, spoke of a coming judgment, and my conscience was on fire. But it also told of Jesus, the Lamb of God that takes away sin. Ah! that was what I wanted. What would I not give to have sin 'taken away?' I said to myself. I cried unto God. I could not sleep. And so for many many weary weeks I went on, miserable enough. At last I saw that God's way to me was Jesus Christ; and that my way to God was just Jesus Christ too. One Mediator between God and man. And so, resting on and trust

ing alone in him, I found that death had no sting in prospect, and judgment no terror; for faith in Jesus got the victory; and through him, even my 'crimson' sins were made white as snow.'

6

"And how is it now, my friend? Do you ever sin now?" "Oh, sir, I wish I could say no!-but I cannot. Yes, I do sin; and it is my misery."

"And what do you do when you sin?"

"What can I do, but just go back to Jesus?' Lord, remove this load of sin,' is still often the burden of my cry."

"Do you hope to go to heaven when you die?"

"For his sake-yes; for my own-no: for I am all unworthy, but He is all righteous." "What will make it heaven to you ?"

"There I shall see his face,

And never, never sin;

There from the rivers of his grace
Drink endless pleasures in,"

was the quiet, earnest answer.

And the questioner ceased. It was enough. He saw the work was of God; and as he cordially grasped the hard but honest hand extended to him, he thanked God for a brother begotten in the Lord. Intimate subsequent intercourse only confirmed his first impression of the real change wrought; and, in thus meeting with the human instrument of his conversion from darkness to light, honest John had realized one of the deepest wishes of his inmost heart. Seed-sower! go on sowing "beside all waters;" for God both can and will "give the increase."

One more case may be recorded, which is, like the former, in the knowledge of the writer as true.

"What good can I do?" said a sincere, but timid Christian servant, to a friend who was urging direct effort for the good of others upon her as a personal duty. "I have little time, and less opportunity."

"Give away tracts," was the answer.

"When ?—I am employed from morning to night, every day. On Sunday I take my turn out with the others, just to chapel and back again. I am rarely out in the week; and when I am, it is only for an errand either for my mistress or myself. I wish I could work for Christ. I am sure I would; but how can I?"

"Well, it is difficult, Maria; but I see how."

"Tell me, then."

"Your duty is to answer the bell part of every day, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Then carry tracts in your pocket, and, when a poor creature comes to the door to sell or beg, give one away with prayer."

"So I will," was the pleased answer. "I never thought of that. But if they are refused, how should I bear that?" she added, doubtfully.

"If one refuses, all will not.-Go on."

The hint was taken. The tracts were bought; and soon an occasion for their use offered itself. A woman accustomed to serve the house with vegetables, rang. Maria answered her; and, as the purchase was completed, she quietly and kindly gave her a tract.

"What do I want with that trash?" said the old woman, passionately; and, with an insulting gesture, she whirled the tract into the air and went her way.

Poor Maria! It was a discouraging beginning"; and she shrunk into herself, like a snail into its shell at a touch. Not long after, she was taken ill; and in her illness, told the friend who had advised her effort, how badly it had succeeded.

"Did you give it with prayer?"

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Oh, yes, and even tears; and followed it with both." "Then leave results with God. You have done your work, and must be content that the disciple shall not be above the Master. Jesus was misunderstood, and scorned too, by those he longed to save. Let not failure unnerve your resolve. When better, try again.

But Maria was going to her heavenly home. Her illness terminated in consumption; and she was soon taken to the Saviour's sheltering arms. She never knew what became of her silent and winged messenger.

*

*

*

It was night. An impatient man walked up and down a lane which skirted a large city. He was a good deal muffled up, and appeared in evil mood. Had any listened, he would have heard a smothered oath or two, as he roughly chid some expected comrade for his non-appear

ance.

Presently he stopped under the solitary lamp-post of the

spot, stooped down, and picked up a piece of paper. It was headed, "What am I living for?" " What, indeed!" said the man to himself, bitterly. And then, crushing the tract in his broad palm, he stood still and whistled- a low, long whistle. None answered; and again he paced up and down.

This time there was no oath. A few minutes more, and he stopped again under the gaslight, unfolded the crumpled paper, and read on to the end. Afterwards he turned deliberately out of the lane, and went, with restless steps and beating heart, to his guilty home, with an arrow fast in his conscience, and a tumult of confusion through all his moral nature. That arrow of conviction was sent to his

heart by an unfailing messenger. The Spirit of the Lord was dealing with the sinful man; and the burglary which, when he picked up that piece of paper, he was waiting to commit, was never accomplished by his help-nor was any other, in all his future life. That "piece of paper" was poor Maria's despised tract, carried by the wind to do God's bidding. In his mysterious Providence she was not permitted on earth to learn its fruit, or her answered prayer. By it the poor thief, who had once had a pious home, was led to Jesus. And so the timid believer's trembling, tearful effort was not forgotten in the Master's service.

PITHY SAYINGS FROM MATTHEW HENRY.

GOD'S WAY.-God never makes us what we should be, without first making us know what we are.

A LOSS.-A lost affliction is an immense loss.

A HYPOCRITE.—A hypocrite neither is what he seems, nor seems what he is. He is hated by the world for seeming a Christian, and by God for not being one. On earth he is the picture of a saint, but in eternity the paint shall all be washed off, and he shall appear at the judgment in his own colours and deformity.

ROBBERY.-Whoever withholds from God what belongs to him, robs God. Do you withhold your heart?

SLANDER. A venerable man says, "Let the slandered take comfort-it is only at fruit-trees that thieves throw stones."

HELP. To direct a wanderer in the right way, is to light another man's candle by one's own, which loses none of its light by what the other gains.

UNION.-It is our duty to hold communion with all who

hold communion with Christ. Party differences should never prompt us to deviate from Christian fellowship with another.

SELF-DESTROYERS.-It is only owing to the wicked wills of sinners, that they are not gathered under the wings of the Lord Jesus. How emphatically is their obstinacy opposed to his mercy 7! "I would, and ye would not."

WHOSOEVER.-The offer of eternal life is free and general. It is true the gate is strait, and the way is narrow; but it is as true that the gate is open, and the way is plain.

SINNERS SELF-DESTROYED.-There is a decree that sinners shall die, but there is no decree that sinners shall sin. Those who perish, must take all the blame to themselves; and those who are saved, must give all the glory to God.

"THE SON OF MAN HATH NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD."

BIRDS have their quiet nests,

Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed;

All creatures have their rest,

But Jesus had not where to lay his head.

And yet he came to give

The weary and the heavy laden rest;

To bid the sinner live,

And soothe my griefs to slumber on his breast.

What, then, am I, my God,

Permitted thus the paths of peace to tread?

Peace, purchased by the blood

Of Him, who had not where to lay his head.

I, who once made him grieve;

I, who once bade his gentle spirit mourn;

Whose hand essayed to weave

For his meek brow the cruel crown of thorn:

Oh why should I have peace?

Why? But for that unchanged, undying love,

Which would not, could not cease,

Until it made me heir of joys above.

Yes, but for pardoning grace,

I feel I never should in glory see

The brightness of that face,

That once was pale and agonized for me.

On earth thou lovest best

To dwell in humble souls that mourn for sin;

Oh come and take thy rest,

This broken, bleeding, contrite heart within.