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man listened most attentively, and as the Reader rose from his knees in prayer, and was about to take his leave, he entreated him to call again, declaring that it was all new to him; "he had never heard the Bible read before." On the following evening the Reader called again, and read to him the third chapter of St. John. When the words of the sixteenth verse fell upon his ears- -or, may we not more correctly say, entered the prodigal's heart?—he cried with a great and bitter cry, "What can I do? what can I do? what shall I do to be saved?" "I shall never forget," writes the Reader, "that earnest cry of his. It seems to ring in my ears even now." After engaging in prayer he took his leave, when the sick man's mother, a great powerful woman, almost as wicked as himself, followed him out of the room, seemingly as anxious as the poor man, pressed his hand, and said, “Oh, sir, will you come again soon? Do come again. He has been talking about you. I am in great trouble about him. He has got a soul to be saved; and you know what he has been."

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On the following evening the visit was repeated; and, on the Reader asking him how he was getting on, he said he had been praying night and day. The fifth chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans was then read, which greatly interested him. He called to his mother, and bade her not to admit any of his old companions to his room. "I don't want to see any of them," he said; "for I shall forget what I have heard about Christ, and I want to get it on my memory, and to keep it there. Their talk won't suit me now." The Reader had hard work to persuade the mother to comply with his request. While they were talking, a rap at the door was heard, and the poor fellow entreated his mother not to let any one up. Charley," said the mother, when she came up from the door, it was Jack. He was half drunk, and wanted to see you." "I am glad he did not come up," said the son. Ah," replied the mother, "I should have got half-a-crown if he had." On the next visit, which was, as before, on the following day, the poor fellow said to the Reader, "You know what I have been. Will God forgive me?" "Yes," replied the Reader, on your repentance, and accepting the offered salvation. 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' 'Him that cometh to Me,' saith Jesus, 'I will in no wise cast out.' 'If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'" Ah, I can call you 'Brother,' now," said the sick man, on the Reader's rising to take his leave, brother you have been to me, to come and tell me about a Saviour.

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Thank you; thank you kindly; do come again." On going out, the mother, with tears in her eyes, pressed his hand in gratitude, repeating the words, "Do come again," and adding, "My son seems so different since your visits. Oh, I wish you could stop all day with him, and, if I could afford it, I would pay you for your trouble." The next day a great change had passed over him. Death had marked him for his own; but death had been shorn of his terrors. He lay with a calm smile on his countènance, which betokened inward peace. His once powerful arm was stretched out to welcome the Reader, whose hand he warmly pressed, saying, “I am so glad you have come." He could say no more for want of breath. The twenty-third Psalm was read, and he evinced, more by signs than by words, that his trust was in Christ, as his only but all-sufficient Saviour from sin, and its awful penalty. The next evening he was in much the same state, though weaker, and calmly waiting for the Lord to take him home. He fell asleep while the Reader was in the room, and on his calling the following day, he was lying dead, surrounded by his friends and relations.

"Oh, sir!" said the mother, as the Reader entered the room, “if any one is gone to heaven he is. He was so changed in all his ways-so gentle, and kind, and thankful, and grateful. Besides, he was so patient, and so earnest in prayer. Oh, I wish you had been here when he died: he did so wish for you. It was such a scene! He rose upon his knees in bed, put his two hands together, moved his lips in prayer, and then fell back dead!" He had often fought with his brother man, as his broken nose, and other marks of his 'gay life," which he carried with him to the grave, testified. Now his last and best fight was ended-his fight against sin, the world, and the devil.

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The Reader took the opportunity of speaking a few solemn words to the assembled party, which called forth from them all one united expression of thankfulness for all that he had done for them, and of hope that he would not fail to call again and see them after the funeral. He closed with a verse from the word of the living God, which he entreated them all to lay to heart, "THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH; BUT THE GIFT OF GOD IS ETERNAL LIFE, THROUGH JESUS CHRIST OUR LORD."

THE SILK-WEAVER OF BETHNAL GREEN; OR, GODLINESS, WITH CONTENTMENT, GREAT GAIN.

"O LORD, I will praise Thee: though Thou wast angry with me, Thine anger is turned away, and Thou comfortedst me."-ISAIAH xii. 1.

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T is now several years since one of our Readers first became acquainted, in the course of his ordinary visitation, with a silk-weaver in Bethnal Green. On his first introduction, he began to converse on those topics which were to himself the joy and rejoicing of his heart; and to urge upon his friend the vital importance of personal and individual godliness. The poor weaver was not disposed to deny anything that the Reader advanced, but candidly confessed that he knew nothing about these things, for he could not read, and he had not been to church since he was a boy. Besides, he added, his position and occupation did not give him much time, heart, or opportunity for religion, for he had a wife and four children to support on an income of fifteen shillings a week. For this he had to work fifteen hours a day in his loom, so that when Sunday morning came he was only too glad to go for a stroll, with four or five of his companions, in Victoria Park. Here, "to drive dull care away," they were accustomed to club together, and get two or three quarts of beer at various public-houses, which serve their customers by stealth during the forbidden hours of church. The Reader pointed out to him that it would not always be in his power to drive dull care away. There was a time of health, but there was also a time of sickness; there was a time to live, but also a time to die. Cast off all thought of it as we may, Death will come, and we must at his bidding quit these earthly scenes; and what would he do when called to appear before a just and righteous Judge, who will render to every man according to his works?

The man stopped his loom, looked the Reader in the face, and, with an honest expression upon his own, said that he believed there was a good deal of truth in what he had said. "For sometimes," he added, "when I am in the beer-shop of a Sunday morning with my friends, something comes over me which tells me I am not doing right." The Reader thereupon strongly urged him on the following Sunday to come to the house of God. But he would not promise, lest he should be unable to fulfil it; he thought, however, he might venture to promise to go on the Sunday after, for by that time he would redeem his coat from pledge. The principle involved in this unwillingness to promise greatly interested the Reader, and

henceforward he kept a watchful eye upon him, continually remembering him at the Throne of Grace.

In the evening of the Sunday mentioned, the man was at church; but, as might naturally be expected, he did not feel at home in the house of God, for it was the first time he had been there since he was a child. While sitting there, he looked about confused and strange; and, as soon as the sermon was over, he made a kind of rush for the door. But our Reader was there before him, for he felt it of great moment to say a few kind words of encouragement to him, before he got quite away. A few days after the Reader called upon him to read the Word, and to speak to him of the house of God. The man, however, anticipated him; he got up, and said at once he thought he must decline going again, as he had no books, and could not read, and "he was ashamed to stand up with nothing in his hand.” But the Reader was not to be thus disappointed. He begged the poor weaver to sit by him, offering at the same time to furnish him with a prayer-book and hymnbook, and to find the places for him, so that nobody in the church but himself would know that he could not read. This offer greatly pleased him, and was accepted with many thanks, as well as a subsequent offer to teach him to read, of which he availed himself to good purpose. For three months he was regularly to be seen in his place at church on Sunday evenings, but the morning stroll was not discontinued, though he gave up his old associates, and generally walked alone. Indeed, when he came across them, as he sometimes did, and they invited him to a friendly glass, he firmly refused to join them. This brought down upon him their sneers and ridicule, and they called him "a sneak," and "a Psalmgrinding fool."

But what saith the Scripture ? "Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad for great is your reward in heaven." It was evident, at this time, that a higher power than man's was at work in his heart. At the end of three months he appeared at church in the morning, most respectably dressed, and very unlike his former self. The Reader expressed his joy at seeing him there in the morning, as well as in the evening. "Yes," he replied, "I begin to see that it is no use trying to serve two masters. I've a soul to be saved; and I have had enough of the devil's service. I want now to become a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ." From this time he regularly attended church in the mornings, and the Reader's Adult Bible-class in the afternoons; and in the evenings he again appeared, with his wife, at the house of God. His children, too,

were not neglected. They were regularly sent to the day and Sunday school. They were now more than ever called upon to experience the truth of God's Word, which tells us that " They that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." Their relatives forsook their company, looking upon them as 66 fanatics," and their neighbours did all they could to annoy them. But none of these things moved them. They remained firm in the faith, and appeared rather to rejoice that they were counted worthy to suffer for the Name of the Lord Jesus.

About this time he had peremptory orders from his employer to complete by Monday morning a certain number of yards of velvet. He had worked early and late to complete the order, but notwithstanding, as Saturday night was closing, he had several hours' work before him. Nothing, however, would tempt him to work on the day upon which the Lord had commanded, "Thou shalt do no manner of work." He attended the means of grace as usual, and as twelve o'clock struck, and the Monday morning was ushered in, he jumped into his loom, set hard to work, and completed the order by the time required. Having expressed a wish to be confirmed, and having attended all the confirmation classes, he was confirmed in April, and his wife a few months afterwards. They are now regular communicants, "and I have every reason to believe," adds the Reader, "true, faithful, humble-minded followers of the Lord Jesus Christ." The man declares that he has never been so happy in his life, and that, though work has been slack, and prices low, he has learnt, by happy experience, that "godliness, with contentment, is great gain." Nothing, he says, grieves him more than to see so many of those with whom he used to be acquainted, living without hope, and without God in the world. He goes in and out amongst them, and amongst his own immediate relatives, endeavouring to impress upon them the sin and folly of neglecting, what may indeed be called, so great salvation." His conversation, he says, is not much liked by them, but, by God's help, he intends to persevere. He has already had some little encouragement, and has succeeded in bringing his brother to church. He only wishes, he has often assured the Reader, that he was a better scholar, that he might read and expound the Scripture to those about him more perfectly. To the Reader himself, he says, he can never be sufficiently thankful; and his only regret is that he had not become acquainted with him many years ago. "THE ENTRANCE OF THY WORD GIVETH LIGHT; IT GIVETH LIGHT AND UNDERSTANDING TO THE SIMPLE."

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