66 A MAN OF SORROWS, AND ACQUAINTED WITH GRIEF."

This was the ray of celestial comfort which threw its glance upon His earthly path, and, together with His ceaseless love to man, upheld His fainting, yet steadfast spirit; for the eye which could pierce eternity realised even now the answer to His prayer, "Father, I will that they also whom Thou hast given Me be with Me where I am," and already saw His chosen followers, of every age and clime, safely sheltered for ever and for ever in the Jerusalem above.

For this He endured the anguish in the garden, when, beneath the light of the quiet, watchful stars, and withdrawn from every human eye, He wrestled with that mortal agony which extorted the entreaty that even now, if possible, the cup might pass from Him.

For this, when the hour was come and the betrayer at hand, He rose and went forth-not to escape the sufferings which awaited Him, but with calm majesty to meet the end for which He came into the world. He had but to breathe the prayer to His Father, and more than twelve legions of angels would have been sent to His rescue; but how then would the Scriptures have been fulfilled that thus it must be? Had He faltered and turned aside-had the cup passed from Him-none would have been redeemed from the earth; heaven's courts had never echoed with the song of Moses and the Lamb, and there would have been no ransomed ones to serve day and night in His temple. But, "having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the end ;" and that He should give eternal life to those who had been given Him, and that they should be with Him and behold His glory-for this He endured the cross and despised the shame—for this He became “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief."

Story of an Old Meeting House.

N a narrow and little frequented street, turning out of one of the main thoroughfares in the east of London, there stood a great many years ago a small chapel, or, as it was more frequently spoken of, a "Meeting House." The attendants were prin

cipally middle-class tradespeople, with a few of the more wealthy inhabitants of the neighbourhood. It was built at a time when liberty of conscience in religious matters was not enjoyed as it is now, and when it was necessary to erect such places of worship in obscure and secluded spots, Consequently, this Meeting House was an unpretending building, with but little in its exterior to distinguish it from a dwelling-house. It was fitted up with large square pews, lined with baize that had been green; the pulpit was a high square box; the windows were excessively dingy; and on dark evenings a flickering light was obtained from a few dip candles placed in tin sconces against the walls.

The minister was a man of shrewd common sense, with but little scholastic learning, and he had gathered a congregation the majority of whom relished, above all things, what is sometimes spoken of as high doctrinal preaching. For some years a certain kind of prosperity was enjoyed; the congregations were good; a few were added occasionally to the church; and a spirit of self-satisfaction pervaded the minds of minister and people. But this was not to

continue.

On one or two occasions the minister shocked the prejudices of some members of the church by making, as they thought, loose and unsatisfactory remarks upon some of their most cherished articles of belief. At a meeting of the church this matter gave rise to a warm discussion; feelings of bitterness were aroused, which, in a few weeks, led to the resignation of the minister and the withdrawal of most of his supporters.

Those who remained found themselves in a very difficult position. It was by no means easy to arrive at a unanimous opinion as to the merits of any one who preached with a view to becoming the minister of the place. Party spirit ran high; the congregation dwindled away. It seemed probable that very soon the chapel would be closed altogether. Mr. B- a retired draper, and a member of the church, was sorely troubled at all this. He was a simple-minded,

earnest Christian, and had always endeavoured to promote peace and brotherly love. His doctrinal views were of a

more liberal character than those of either the late pastor or the leading members of the church. But he had always acted upon the apostolic precept, "whereto we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us mind the same thing," and never suffered differences of opinion on doctrines to prevent union in Christian activities with those who differed from him. He had passed through deep sorrows, which, under the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit, had purified his whole nature, and worked out in him patience, experience, and hope. His wife had recently died, after a lingering illness, and two sons had been carried off rapidly one after the other by consumption. His home was desolate, but he felt that he was "not forsaken," and he strove by diligence in "well-doing," especially in connection with the beloved Meeting House, and the remnant that still worshipped there, to dissipate the clouds of care and depression that would occasionally brood over him. His trials, and the simple, truthful earnestness of his Christian character, made him a man of prayer. And now he had an additional source of grief in the troubles afflicting the spiritual Zion. He would not forsake the place, for he felt as though a good work was yet to be done there, and that God would overrule for good the disastrous results of contentions that had now ceased. The services on the Lord's day were very thinly attended; rarely could a preacher be obtained, and frequentiy Mr. Bhimself conducted the service; not, however, attempting to preach, but reading a sermon from some orthodox divine. During the summer months a few met on Wednesday evenings for prayer; but, as winter approached, the number gradually decreased, until at length no one came. But Mr. B- determined that prayer should be offered to God within the walls of the Meeting House without ceasing, on the appointed night.

At the corner of the narrow street in which the Meeting House stood, fronting the main street, was the "Red

Dragon," a public-house noted as a "house of call" for wharfingers and street-porters. In the evening many of these men would be lounging about in front of the house, some half tipsy, others wholly drunk, and all of them reckless, swearing, and riotous fellows. For several successive Wednesday evenings, an elderly respectably dressed man, with a lantern in his hand (for gas was unknown, and oillamps were few and far between), was seen making his way cautiously through the rough party in front of the "Red Dragon," and disappearing in the darkness of the aforesaid narrow street. For a few weeks he was scarcely noticed; but gradually he became an object, first of curiosity, and then of insolence, to the crowd through which he had to pass. Many profane jests and horrid oaths were shouted at him and his lantern, but he heeded them not.

One Wednesday night as he was seen approaching, Jack Raves, one of the most blasphemous and quarrelsome of street-porters, swore that he would run the "old chap" to earth, and see what he was doing up that dark street. Mr. B drew near, and turned the corner. Jack, amid the oaths and approving shouts of his companions, stealthily followed. He saw Mr. B stop at an old-fashioned doorway, take a key out of his pocket, open his lantern so as to throw light on the keyhole, insert the key and turn the lock, when, the night being very stormy, the candle was blown out. Mr. B, seeing a light in a neighbouring window, went to relight his candle, leaving the chapel door open. Jack stepped in, and was much bewildered at the character of the place. The light was just sufficient to show him that it was a large high room, with the floor divided into what looked to him like low horseboxes, or cribs for cattle. Hearing footsteps approaching, he entered one of these, and rapidly crouched beneath the seat, effectually secured from view by the baize which hung from the edge of the seat to the floor.

To his great surprise, the strange gentleman not only entered the queer place, and locked the door, but came into