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"For your confessor's sake'-she was a Romanist. "No."
The missionary took the child to his own home. From this child he learnt, with a shudder, of the haunts of thieves upon his district. He visited them in such places as the cellar, in the old Sugar-house, which we have described in another story of our volume. He visited them in worse places still; holes, where they paid a penny per night to sit on the floor, they were too thronged to lie down. He bade them come to his house, he could talk with them better there.
It happened once, there were some of these miserable outcasts who were ill, the missionary did not know what to do with them. No hospital would receive them. The lowest lodging-house even in - lane refused to let them in. His wife was upstairs, confined to her bed-room. "What," thought he, "if I should have them in the kitchen; they will be well perhaps before Ayl'ce comes down ?" Accordingly, the thieves took possession of the kitchen. He next emptied a room in his house, and gave it up to them. But the room was small; the house was in a close, low part of London, and a terrible disease called vagrant fever, broke out among them. It soon spread to the family of the missionary; seven, one after another, were laid upon a bed of sickness, and one died. "Save your farthings," said the missionary to his children, "that we may be able to move into a larger house." They did so, and in the course of time, the farthings amounted to £15. This £15 they spent in purchasing a business, out of which, as the years went by, they saved a considerable sum; this was devoted to building a place fit for the reception of those unhappy beings.
It began to be known in London, that those who wished to forsake a vagrant and dishonest life, would
find a friend in our missionary; and the neighbours were scared and angered by the number of thieves who congregated round his door, and in the lane leading to his dwelling. Hundreds by his help and counsel retraced their steps on the path of crime; some he got into an asylum, for some he obtained the means of emigrating, for some he obtained employment, a great many he received in turn into his own house.* Again the fever broke out among them, and another of his own children died. He felt himself, however, called to the labour in the name of the Lord, and he did not desist.
If there was suffering for Christ's sake in that humble dwelling, there was also rejoicing. "I invariably show them," said the missionary, "that sin is the transgression of the law of God; and that none but Jesus Christ can save them. I do feel it to be a privilege which I desire never to lose sight of, the conversion of the soul, to save a soul from death. I say to myself, He who, in the agony of death, listened to the prayer of the dying thief, and so graciously answered it, can do the same for thee, poor thief; to Him I look for the blessing; to Him I desire to lead every poor thief that comes to me. I have been much blessed in my own soul in the work. It is a labour over which I can pray; I feel it to be my duty. for me to labour, it is for God to bless."
The Lord added to his servant another blessing; the mother, whom he had loved so much when a child. From him she learned to know and love her Saviour. She became an inmate of his house, and assisted his family in their work of charity and mercy.
* In the Reports of this missionary, he states, that he had received the visits of 2,900 people desirous to reform their lives. Out of these, 256 were enabled by his help to do so; and, if we add to these their children, who amounted to 218, we have the prodigious number of 744 persons saved from a life of wretchedness.
"MORE PATIENCE, FOR JESUS' SAKE."
THE DYING WORDS OF A YOUNG BELIEVER.
"MORE patience, for the Saviour's sake." How touching was this prayer,
From one who long had meekly learnt her daily cross to bear, And from whose lips no murmur came when pain and grief
As turning on her feverish couch she vainly sought for rest.
"More patience." Not relief she asked; not that the bitter cup
"More patience." Jesus quickly heard the sweet, submissive cry, And sent to aid her for the strife-an angel from on high; Nay, He Himself drew gently near; He raised her drooping head, And strengthened her, through death's dark vale, with fearless step to tread.
"More patience?" No; the Saviour had accomplished his design;
In her pure spirit He beheld his likeness clearly shine;
"More patience." Not for thee, blest saint, but for ourselves
Whose brightest earthly hopes were laid within thine early grave ;
"More patience." God has called thee hence-His will, not ours, be done!
Though many weary days must pass before our race is run;
Thou art at rest; but we must press through conflict and
Before we reach our Father's house where tears can never flow.
"More patience, for the Saviour's sake." When earthly scenes grew dim,
Thy dying glance was simply fixed in earnest faith on Him!
H. M. W.
PAUL, THE TENT-MAKER.
IN the quiet home of Aquila, the tent-maker, St. Paul resided for a considerable time, and worked with him at his trade. Yes; he who had delivered that thrilling and eloquent oration on Mars' Hill, now prepared with his own hands the coarse covering of which tents are formed. The logician at Athens, is the operative at Ephesus. The teacher of philosophers, is the fellow-labourer of an humble tradesman. How diversified is life!
And this new occupation of Paul's was not the result of a passing fancy, or an eccentric taste, for he pursued it uninterruptedly for at least two years, and that for the purpose of providing for the necessities of every-day life. Listen to his own words: "We wrought with labour and travail, night and day, that we might not be chargeable to any of you," 2 Thess. iii. 8. "Night and day." Whatever Paul did, he did heartily, thoroughly. He did not work as many persons work, indolently and fitfully, but he threw all his energies into the business which he had in hand. Take a hint, young man, from this feature in Paul's character. Do not stand behind your counter, or sit at your
writing-desk, or handle your plane and chisel, as if you were only half-awake, as if you were resolved to do only what you are forced to do. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do," says the wise man, "do it with all thy might." Bear this advice in mind, and act upon it.
Paul the tent-maker. What a noble and instructive study! I admire the man who could work as cheerfully in Aquila's workshop, as he could reason eloquently before king Agrippa. In each position he is alike dignified and manly. I dare say you agree with me, dear reader, in my opinion of Paul. You are quite ready to assent to all that may be said in his praise relative to this period of his history. But are you prepared to appreciate in the present what you admire in the distance? Had you lived at Ephesus when Paul followed his humble calling, would you have been likely to entertain as high an opinion of him as you do now? Would you have been eager to include a tent-maker" among the number of your dear and chosen friends? I sometimes think that we talk a great deal more than we realize about apostolic times and habits. I once heard a sermon preached from these words, "Is not this the carpenter's son ?" in which the speaker forcibly and practically considered the lowliness of our Saviour's birth and avocation. And his audience seemed well pleased, and even profited, as they listened; and yet I question whether many of them would reduce to practice what they applauded in theory. I overheard one of the congregation-a highly respectable man-passing a warm eulogium on the sermon; and I knew at the same time that he had a brother whom he was unwilling to own or recognise, because he kept a small shop somewhere!
And a fashionable lady sat near me, who evidently sympathised with the sentiments of the preacher, who would have been astonished at any working man-at