ard.

There was a man at one of our meetings in New York City who was moved by
the Spirit of God. He said, "I am going home, and I am not going to
sleep to-night till Christ takes away my sins, if I have to stay up all
night and pray. I'll do it." He had a good distance to walk, and as he
went along he thought, "Why can't I pray now as I go along, instead of
waiting to go home?" But he did not know a prayer. His mother had taught
him to pray, but it was so long since he had uttered a prayer that he
had forgotten. However, the publican's prayer came to his mind.
Everybody can say this prayer. That man in the gallery yonder, that
young lady over there: "God be merciful to me a sinner." May God write
it on your hearts to-night. If you forget the sermon, don't forget that
prayer. It is a very short prayer, and it has brought joy--salvation--to
many a soul. Well, this prayer came to the man, and he began, "God be
merciful to me a--," but before he got to "sinner" God blessed him.

Black-balled by Man, Saved by Christ.

At the Fulton street prayer-meeting a man came in, and this was his
story. He said he had a mother who prayed for him; he was a wild,
reckless prodigal. Some time after his mother's death he began to be
troubled. He thought he ought to get into new company, and leave his old
companions. So he said he would go and join a secret society; he thought
he would join the Odd Fellows. They went and made inquiry about him, and
they found he was a drunken sailor, so they black-balled him. They would
not have him. He then went to the Freemasons; he had nobody to recommend
him, so they inquired and found there was no good in his character, and
they, too, black-balled him. They didn't want him. One day, some one
handed him a little notice in the street about the prayer-meeting, and
he went in. He heard that Christ had come to save sinners. He believed
Him; he took Him at his word; and, in reporting the matter, he said he
"came to Christ without a character, and Christ hadn't black-balled him."
My friends, that is Christ's way.

The Praying Cripple.

I once knew a little cripple who lay upon her death-bed. She had given
herself to God, and was distressed only because she could not labor for
Him actively among the lost. Her clergyman visited her, and hearing her
complaint, told her that there from her sick-bed she could offer prayers
for those whom she wished to see turning to God. He advised her to write
the na