to give, and I was redeemed. I
lived a Christian mother to bring my children up for Christ--they are
all here with me to bless you this day, and their children on earth, and
their children's children are growing up to bless you." "And I," said
another, "was an unbeliever. In the pride of my intellect, I thought I
could demonstrate the absurdity of Christianity. I thought I could
answer the argument from miracles and prophecy; but your patient,
self-denying life was an argument I never could answer. When I saw you
spending all your time and all your money in efforts for your
fellow-men, undiscouraged by ingratitude, and careless of praise, then I
thought, 'There is something divine in that man's life,' and that
thought brought me here."

The man looked around on the gathering congregation, and he saw that
there was no one whom he had drawn heavenward that had not also drawn
thither myriads of others. In his lifetime he had been scattering seeds
of good around from hour to hour, almost unconsciously; and now he saw
every seed springing up into a widening forest of immortal beauty and
glory. It seemed to him that there was to be no end of the numbers that
flocked to claim him as their long-expected soul friend. His heart was
full, and his face became as that of an angel as he looked up to One who
seemed nearer than all, and said, "This is thy love for me, unworthy, O
Jesus. Of thee, and to thee, and through thee are all things. Amen."

Amen! as with chorus of many waters and mighty thunderings the sound
swept onward, and died far off in chiming echoes among the distant
stars, and the man awoke.

A SCENE IN JERUSALEM.

It is now nearly noon, the busiest and most bustling hour of the day;
yet the streets of the Holy City seem deserted and silent as the grave.
The artisan has left his bench, the merchant his merchandise; the
throngs of returned wanderers which this great national festival has
brought up from every land of the earth, and which have been for the
last week carrying life and motion through every street, seem suddenly
to have disappeared. Here and there solitary footfalls, like the last
pattering rain drops after a shower, awaken the echoes of the streets;
and here and there some lonely woman looks from the housetop with
anxious and agitated face, as if she would discern something in the far
distance.

Alone, or almost alone, the few remaining priests move like
white-winged, solitary birds over the