ways for why will ye die?' Again, it is a declara- . tion of inspired truth that Jesus Christ, 'by the grace of God, hath tasted death for every man.' What for? Did he make a mock provision for such as were reprobated to eternal death?"

"Ah, but we are told," said he, "that though 'many are called, but few are chosen.""

"Truly; but does God call the 'many,' and proclaim to them the tidings of salvation deceitfully, to mock their fears and aggravate their bondage under chains of inexorable fate? Surely the righteous God is sincere in his offers of mercy to all sinners. Christ answers the question, why so 'few are chosen' of the 'many called.' 'Ye will not come unto me, that ye might have life.' Now, my brother, God has been very desirous to save you for a long time; but you would not let him. He has been calling you for fourteen years, and you would not come. Instead of hearkening to the voice Divine and obeying your Lord, you ran off to a grog shop and got drunk. Do you ever pray to God for mercy?"

"What!" said he; "I pray! I pray! Why it would be blasphemy for such a wretch as I am to pray. The prayers of the wicked are abomination

to the Lord.""

I replied, "Solomon says, 'The sacrifice of the wicked is abomination;' but it is nowhere said in the Bible that the prayers of a penitent sinner are abomi

nation; but it is said, 'Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.' How is he to do this? By calling upon God while he is near.' He is near you now, my brother. The agony of soul you feel, and these tears, prove that his Spirit is now operating on your heart The Psalmist, as a poor sinner, cried to God from the horrible pit. Says he: 'I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also [in answer to that cry] out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God.' And so the poor publican, who felt as guilty as you do, and 'could not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner! I tell you this man went down to his home justified,' pardoned in answer to a sinner's prayer."

"O, but," said he, "they were not near so bad as I am. The iniquities of my fathers for four generations seem to be visited upon me."

"O, you know,” said I, "that the proverb, 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge,' has passed away long ago, so far as answering for the sins of our fathers is con

cerned. Within the last fortnight more than half a dozen sinners, equally as bad as you, some of them the worst men in the city, have, in this Bethel, called upon God and obtained mercy, and they are happy in his love to-day."

So soon as the Sunday school and Bible class closed, he was taken into the shipkeeper's room, where, surrounded by some warm-hearted sailors, he cried to God, in the name of Jesus, and in an hour experienced "redemption through the blood of the Lamb, even the forgiveness of his sins." That afternoon, after preaching on the Long Wharf, he went round with a bundle of tracts for distribution, and manifested great zeal in trying to persuade his fellowseamen to "ship" for the celestial port. He soon afterward went to sea. The Lord keep him steadfast.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE DRUNKEN SUICIDE'S FUNERAL.

On the twenty-sixth of May, 1853, I attended the funeral of W., of Pennsylvania, who had the previous night committed suicide by the use of laudanum. He lay in a small, filthy shanty, attended by ten of his bar-room companions. The undertaker had not arrived when I entered the shanty, but the friends, in their generous haste, proceeded at once to put down the lid of the coffin.

"Good-by, Bill," said one, as he fitted the coffinlid, and then they went to work to set the screws. One used an old razor; another an old knife; two others employed themselves in pressing in the coffin and fitting the screws; a fifth went off in haste to borrow a screw-driver, that the work, as he said, "might be finished up decently."

In the meantime I proposed to them the following question: "How did this man come to his death?"

"Hard drink," said one. "I've known him here for three years. Hard drink was the thing, sir."

"No," said another, "Bill was one of the best

boys in this city. He had his failing, and would drink, as we all do, but he was a first-rate fellow."

"It was a sore face," said a third, "which pained him so that he got disheartened and took laudanum." "No," said the fourth, "it was a punishment. He could not help it." (He meant it was so decreed.)

"Well," said yet another, "I think it was his misfortune. He was driving a dray in the city, and had bad luck, and got discouraged, and put an end to himself."

I then arose and sung:

"That awful day will surely come,

The appointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,

And pass the solemn test," etc.

I then said: "It is a solemn thing to die. To die in our sins is dreadful; but .for a man to rush, by the violence of his own hands, unbidden, into the presence of a sin-avenging God, is too horrible to be described. What could lead this man to such a dreadful end?" I then quoted their testimony on the subject, and continued, "If this man had been a praying, sober man, would he have had that 'sore face?" If he had been diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord,' would he probably have had such hard luck?' and, if so, would these two evils combined have led him to destroy himself? Now the facts in the case are these: The 'sore face,'