ne to-day for
Christ? Are the friends with whom you have been talking traveling
toward the New Jerusalem? Did you compare notes with them as to how
you were all prospering on the way? Is that stranger by your side
a fellow-pilgrim? Did you ask him if he _would_ be? Have you been
careful to recommend the religion of Jesus Christ by your words, by
your acts, by your looks, this day? If danger comes to you, have you
this day asked Christ to be your helper? If death comes to you this
night, are you prepared to give up your account? What would your
record of this last day be? A blank? What! Have you done _nothing_ for
the Master? Then what have you done against Him? Nothing? Nay, verily!
Is not the Bible doctrine, 'He that is not for me is against me?'

"Remember that every neglected opportunity, every idle word, every
wrong thought of yours has been written down this day. You can not
take back the thoughts or words; you can not recall the opportunity.
This day, with all its mistakes, and blots, and mars, you can never
live over again. It must go up to the judgment just as it is. Have you
begged the blood of Jesus to be spread over it all? Have you resolved
that no other day shall witness a repeatal of the same mistakes? Have
you resolved in your own strength or in His?"

During the reading of the tract, a young man had entered, paused a
moment in surprise at the unwonted scene, then moved with very quiet
tread across the room and took the vacant seat near Ester. As the
reader came back to her former seat, with the pink on her cheek
deepened into warm crimson, the new comer greeted her with--

"Good-evening, Miss Fannie. Have you been finding work to do for the
Master?"

"Only a very little thing," she answered, with a voice in which there
was a slight tremble.

"I don't know about that, my dear." This was the old woman's voice.
"I'm sure I thank you a great deal. They're kind of startling
questions like; enough to most scare a body, unless you was trying
pretty hard, now ain't they?"

"Very solemn questions, indeed," answered the gentleman to whom this
question seemed to be addressed. "I wonder, if we were each obliged
to write truthful answers to each one of them, how many we should be
ashamed to have each other see?"

"How many would be ashamed to have _Him_ see?" The old woman spoke
with an emphatic shake of her gray head, and a reverent touch of he
pronoun.

"That is the vital point," he said. "Yet how much