001 -- TRIUMPHANT DEATH OF IGNATIUS

Ignatius, one of the ancient fathers of the church, was born
in Syria, and brought up under the care of the Apostle John.
About the year 67, he became bishop of Antioch. In this important
station he continued above 40 years, both an honor and a
safeguard to the Christian religion; undaunted in the midst of
very tempestuous times, and unmoved with the prospect of
suffering a cruel death. He taught men to think little of the
present life; to value and love the good things to come; and
never to be deterred from a course of piety and virtue, by the
fear of any temporal evils whatever; to oppose only meekness to
anger, humility to boasting, and prayers to curses and
reproaches.

This excellent man was selected by the emperor Trajan, as a
subject whose sufferings might be proper to inspire terror and
discouragement in the hearts of the Christians at Rome. He was
condemned to die for his faith in Christ, and ordered to be
thrown among wild beasts to be devoured by them. This cruel
sentence, far from weakening his attachment to the great cause he
had espoused, excited thankfulness of heart, that he had been
counted worthy to suffer for the sake of religion. "I thank
thee, O Lord," said he, "that thou hast condescended
thus to honor me with thy love; and hast thought me worthy, with
thy apostle Paul, to be bound in chains."

On his passage to Rome he wrote a letter to his fellow
Christians there, to prepare them to acquiesce in his sufferings,
and to assist him with their prayers. "Pray for me,"
said he, "that God would give me both inward and outward
strength, that I may not only say, but do well; that I may not
only be called a Christian, but be found one." Animated by
the cheering prospect of the reward of his sufferings, he said:
"Now, indeed, I begin to be a disciple; I weigh neither
visible nor invisible things, in comparison with an interest in
Jesus Christ." With the utmost Christian fortitude he met
the wild beasts assigned for his destruction and triumphed in
death. -- Power of Religion.

002 -- WONDERFUL CONVERSION OF MARY LONES

We were requested to visit a young woman, nearly gone with
consumption, who resisted every effort that was made to bring her
to Christ. We went, trusting in the Lord for help. She received
us respectfully, but seemed quite careless about her soul. The
Spirit of the Lord soon touched her heart, and she became
distressed on account of her sins; at one time while praying with
her she began to plead in real earnest for herself and continued
in prayer until she could say, "I am the Lord's and He
is mine." A sweet peace settled down on her soul and soon
after she received the clear witness that her sins were forgiven.
Although she was very weak and could hardly speak above a
whisper, yet, when the Lord set the seal of Bis Spirit to the
work wrought in her soul, her shouts of victory could be heard
through the entire building.

She soon began to yearn for entire sanctification, and her
soul was greatly drawn out in prayer for the blessing. At one
time we read to her the fourth chapter of Ist John and encouraged
her to look to be made perfect in love, to believe for it and
expect it every moment until it was given. "Oh!" said
she, "that is just what 1 need, and I am praying for it all
the while" -- although she did not know the name of the
blessing she was seeking. She had many conflicts with the powers
of darkness before she obtained this victory. At length the
all-cleansing touch was given. It was about five o'clock one
Sabbath evening a few weeks before her death. Her soul had been
much drawn out in prayer all day for purity of heart. She said
the Spirit fell on her and seemed to go through both soul and
body. She had been confined to her bed and was so weak we thought
she would never again stand on her feet; but when she received
the blessing she not only had the use of her voice, but walked
the floor back and forth, shouting aloud, "Glory to
God." We were told that she had naturally a fiery
disposition, but after this baptism she was all patience,
resignation, love and praise. Her sufferings were very great
toward the last, but not a murmur or complaint was ever heard.
Neither tongue nor pen can describe some of the scenes witnessed
in that little room. From the time that she received the blessing
of perfect love, until her death, her sky was unclouded, her
conversation in heaven, and her experience, although a young
convert, was that of a mature Christian. Her light on the things
of God and the state of deceived professors of religion was
wonderful. She seemed to have an unclouded view of her heavenly
inheritance and longed to depart and be with Christ. On one
occasion, when we were singing --

Filled with delight, my raptured soul Would here no longer
stay, Though Jordan's waves around me roll, Fearless, I
launch away --

she raised her hand in triumph and repeated the word,
"fearless, fearless," while glory unspeakable beamed
from her countenance. At times, when talking or singing of her
heavenly home, she appeared more like an inhabitant of heaven
than of earth. She was truly the most beautiful, angelic-looking
being we ever saw. She died in triumph; was conscious to the
last, and whispered, "I walk through the valley in
peace;" then pointing to each one that stood around her bed,
she raised her hand, as if to say, "Meet me in Heaven."
She then folded her hands on her breast, looked up, smiled, and
was gone.

Glory to God and the Lamb forever; another safely landed. --
Brands From The Burning.

003 -- THE AWFUL DEATH OF SIR FRANCIS
NEWPORT

Sir Francis Newport was trained in early life to understand
the great truths of the gospel; and while in early manhood it was
hoped that he would become an ornament and a blessing to his
family and the nation, the result was far otherwise. He fell into
company that corrupted his principles and his morals. He became
an avowed infidel, and a life of dissipation soon brought on a
disease that was incurable. When he felt that he must die, he
threw himself on the bed, and after a brief pause, be exclaimed
as follows: "Whence this war in my heart? What argument is
there now to assist me against matters of fact? Do I assert that
there is no hell, while I feel one in my own bosom? Am I certain
there is no after retribution, when I feel present judgment? Do I
affirm my soul to be as mortal as my body, when this languishes,
and that is vigorous as ever? O that any one would restore unto
me that ancient gourd of piety and innocence! Wretch that I am,
whither shall I flee from this breast? What will become of
me?"

An infidel companion tried to dispel his thoughts, to whom he
replied. "That there is a God, I know, because I continually
feel the effects of His wrath; that there is a hell I am equally
certain, having received an earnest of my inheritance there
already in my breast; that there is a natural conscience I now
feel with horror and amazement, being continually upbraided by it
with my impieties, and all my iniquities, and all my sins brought
to my remembrance. Why God has marked me out for an example of
His vengeance, rather than you, or any one of my acquaintance, I
presume is because I have been more religiously educated, and
have done greater despite to the Spirit of grace. O that I was to
lie upon the fire that never is quenched a thousand years, to
purchase the favor of Gods and be reunited to Him again! But it
is a fruitless wish. Millions of millions of years will bring me
no nearer to the end of my torments than one poor hour. O,
eternity, eternity! Who can discover the abyss of eternity? Who
can paraphrase upon these words -- forever and ever?"

Lest his friends should think him insane, he said: "You
imagine me melancholy, or distracted. I wish I were either; but
it is part of my judgment that I am not. No; my apprehension of
persons and things is more quick and vigorous than it was when I
was in perfect health; and it is my curse, because I am thereby
more sensible of the condition I am fallen into. Would you be
informed why I am become a skeleton in three or four days? See
now, then. I have despised my Maker, and denied my Redeemer. I
have joined myself to the atheist and profane, and continued this
course under many convictions, till my iniquity was ripe for
vengeance, and the just judgment of God overtook me when my
security was the greatest, and the checks of my conscience were
the least."

As his mental distress and bodily disease were hurrying him
into eternity, he was asked if he would have prayer offered in
his behalf; he turned his face, and exclaimed, "Tigers and
monsters! are ye also become devils to torment me? Would ye give
me prospect of heaven to make my hell more intolerable?"

Soon after, his voice failing, and uttering a groan of
inexpressible horror, he cried out, "OH, THE INSUFFERABLE
PANGS OF HELL!" and died at once, dropping into the very
hell of which God gave him such an awful earnest, to be a
constant warning to multitudes of careless sinners. --

004 -- POLYCARP, THE SAINTED CHRISTIAN
FATHER

Polycarp, an eminent Christian father, was born in the reign
of Nero. Ignatius recommended the church of Antioch to the care
and superintendence of this zealous father, who appears to have
been unwearied in his endeavors to preserve the peace of the
church, and to promote piety and virtue amongst men.

During the persecution which raged at Smyrna, in the year 167,
the distinguished character of Polycarp attracted the attention
of the enemies of Christianity. The general outcry was, "Let
Polycarp be sought for." When he was taken before the
proconsul, he was solicited to reproach Christ, and save his
life: but with a holy indignation, he nobly replied: "Eighty
and six years have I served Christ, who has never done me any
injury: how then can I blaspheme my King and Savior?"

When he was brought to the stake, the executioner offered, as
usual, to nail him to it; but he said, "Let me alone as I
am: He who has given me strength to come to the fire, will also
give me patience to abide in it, without being fastened with
nails."

Part of his last prayer, at his death, was as follows: "O
God, the Father of Thy beloved son, Jesus Christ, by whom we have
received the knowledge of Thyself; O God of angels and powers, of
every creature, and of all the just who live in Thy presence; I
thank Thee that Thou hast graciously vouchsafed, this day and
this hour, to allot me a portion amongst the number of martyrs. O
Lord, receive me; and make me a companion of saints in the
resurrection, through the merits of our great High Priest, the
Lord Jesus Christ. I praise and adore Thee, through thy beloved
Son, to whom, with Thee, and Thy Holy Spirit, be all honor and
glory, both now and forever. Amen." -- Power of
Religion.

005 -- THE MARTYR PATRICK HAMILTON

On the first of March, 1528, some eight years before Tyndale
was betrayed by a Romish spy, Archbishop Beaton condemned Patrick
Hamilton to be burned because he advocated the doctrines of the
Reformation and exposed the errors of popery.

The principal accusations were that he taught that it was
proper for the poor people to read God's Word and that it was
useless to offer masses for the souls of the dead. Hamilton
admitted the truth of these charges, and boldly defended his
doctrine. But his judges, Archbishop Beaton and the bishops and
clergy associated with him in council, could not endure the
truths presented by their prisoner, which indeed were greatly to
their disadvantage; for a people before whom an open Bible is
spread will soon test by it the lives and teachings of their
pastors, and to abolish masses for the dead is to cut off a chief
source of the revenues of Rome's priesthood. Hamilton
therefore was quickly condemned, and in a few hours afterwards,
to avoid any possibility of his rescue by influential friends,
the stake was prepared before the gate of St. Salvador
College.

When the martyr was brought to the stake, he removed his outer
garments and gave them to his servant, with the words,
"These will not profit me in the fire, but they will profit
thee. Hereafter thou canst have no profit from me except the
example of my death, which I pray thee keep in memory, for,
though bitter to the flesh and fearful before man, it is the door
of eternal life, which none will attain who denies Christ Jesus
before this ungodly generation."

His agony was prolonged by a slow fire, so that his execution
lasted some six hours; but, through it all, he manifested true
heroism and unshaken faith in the truth of the doctrines which he
preached. His last words were, "How long, O Lord, shall
darkness brood over this realm? Bow long wilt thou suffer this
tyranny of man? Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."

Thus, in the bloom of early manhood, died Scotland's first
Reformation martyr, and his death was not in vain. A Romanist
afterwards said, "The smoke of Patrick Hamilton infected all
it blew upon." His mouth was closed, but the story of his
death was repeated by a thousand tongues. It emboldened others to
seek a martyr's crown, and stirred up many more to defend the
truths for which he died, and to repudiate the hierarchy which
found it necessary to defend itself by such means. "Humanly
speaking," says the author of "The Champions of the
Reformation," to whom we are chiefly indebted for the facts
of our sketch, "could there have been found a fitter apostle
for ignorant, benighted Scotland than this eloquent, fervent,
pious man? Endowed with all those gifts that sway the heads of
the masses, a zealous, pious laborer in season and out of season,
what Herculean labors might he not have accomplished! What signal
triumphs might he not have achieved! So men may reason, but God
judged otherwise. A short trial, a brief essay in the work he
loved and longed for, was permitted to him, and then the goodly
vessel, still in sight of land, was broken in pieces. " --
Heroes and Heroines

006 -- REV. E. PAYSON'S JOYFUL EXPERIENCES AND
TRIUMPHANT DEATH

He was asked, by a friend, if he could see any particular
reason for this dispensation. He replied, "No; but I am as
well satisfied as if I could see ten thousand reasons."

In a letter dictated to his sister he writes: "Were I to
adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might date this letter
from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some time such
a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full in view. Its
glories beam upon me; its breezes fan me; its odors are wafted to
me; its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed
into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of
death, which now appears as an insignificant rill, which can be
crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The
Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and
nearer, appearing larger and brighter as He approached, and now
fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood of glory, in
which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun,
exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive
brightness, and wondering why God should deign thus to shine upon
a sinful worm."

On being asked, "Do you feel reconciled?" he
replied, "O, that is too cold; I rejoice; I triumph; and
this happiness will endure as long as God himself, for it
consists in admiring and adoring Him. I can find no words to
express my happiness. I seem to be swimming in a river of
pleasure, which is carrying me to the great fountain. It seems as
if all the bottles in heaven were opened, and all its fullness
and happiness have come down into my heart. God has been
depriving me of one blessing after another, but as each one has
removed, He has come in and filled up its place. If God had told
me sometime ago, that He was about to make me as happy as I could
be in this world, and that He should begin by crippling me in all
my limbs, and removing from me all my usual sources of enjoyment,
I should have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing His
purposes, now, when I am a cripple, and not able to move, I am
happier than I ever was in my life before, or ever expected to
be.

"It has often been remarked, that people who have passed
into the other world cannot come back to tell us what they have
seen; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can almost see
as clearly as if I were there; and I see enough to satisfy me of
the truth of the doctrines I have preached. I do not know that I
should feel at all surer had I been really there."

"Watchman, what of the night!" asked a gray-headed
member of his church. "I should think it was about
noonday," replied the dying Payson.

The ruling passion being strong in death, he sent a request to
his pulpit, that his people should repair to his sick-chamber.
They did so in specified classes, a few at a time and received
his dying message.

To the young men of his congregation, he said: "I felt
desirous that you might see that the religion I have preached can
support me in death. You know that I have many ties which bind me
to earth; a family to which I am strongly attached, and a people
whom I love almost as well; but the other world acts like a much
stronger magnet, and draws my heart away from this."

"Death comes every night, and stands by my bedside in the
form of terrible convulsions, every one of which threatens to
separate the soul from the body. These grow worse and worse, till
every bone is almost dislocated with pain. Yet, while my body is
thus tortured, my soul is perfectly, perfectly happy and
peaceful. I lie here and feel these convulsions extending higher
and higher, but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable! I seem to
swim in a flood of glory, which God pours down upon me. Is it a
delusion, that can fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such
circumstances? If so, it is a delusion better than any reality.
It is no delusion. I feel it is not. I enjoy this happiness now.
And now, standing as I do, on the ridge that separates the two
worlds -- feeling what intense happiness the soul is capable of
sustaining, and judging of your capacities by my own, and
believing that those capacities will be filled to the very brim
with joy or wretchedness forever, my heart yearns over you, my
children, that you may choose life, and not death. I long to
present every one of you with a cup of happiness, and see you
drink it."

"A young man," he continued, "just about to
leave the world, exclaimed, 'The battle's fought, the
battle's fought, but the victory is lost forever!' But I
can say, The battle's fought -- and the victory is won -- the
victory is won forever! I am going to bathe in the ocean of
purity, and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity. And now,
my children, let me bless you, not with the blessing of a poor,
feeble, dying man, but with the blessing of the infinite
God." He then pronounced the apostolic benediction.

A friend said to him, "I presume it is no longer
incredible to you, that martyrs should rejoice and praise God in
the flames and on the rack?"

"No," said he; "I can easily believe it. I have
suffered twenty times as much as I could in being burned at the
stake, while my joy in God so abounded as to render my sufferings
not only tolerable, but welcome."

At another time, he said: "God is literally now my all in
all. While He is present with me, no event can in the least
diminish my happiness; and were the whole world at my feet,
trying to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to
my cup."

To Mrs. Payson, who observed to him, "Your head feels hot
and seems to be distended"; he replied: "It seems as if
the soul disdained such a narrow prison, and was determined to
break through with an angel's energy, and I trust with no
small portion of an angel's feeling, until it mounts on
high."

"It seems as if my soul had found a new pair of wings,
and was so eager to try them, that in her fluttering, she would
rend. the fine network of the body in pieces."

THE CLOSING SCENE

On Sabbath, October 21, 1827, his last agony commenced,
attended with that labored breathing and rattling in the throat
which rendered articulation extremely difficult. His daughter was
summoned from the Sabbath-school, and received his dying kiss and
"God bless you, my daughter." He smiled on a group of
church members and exclaimed, with holy emphasis, "Peace,
peace! victory!" He smiled on his wife and children and
said, in the language of dying Joseph, "I am going, but God
will surely be with you!"

He rallied from the death conflict and said to his physician
"that although he had suffered the pangs of death, and got
almost within the gates of Paradise, yet, if it was God's
will that he should come back and suffer still more, he was
resigned." He passed through a similar scene in the
afternoon and again revived.

On Monday morning, his dying agonies returned in all their
severity. For three hours every breath was a groan. On being
asked if his sufferings were greater than on the preceding Sunday
night, he answered, "incomparably greater." He said the
greatest temporal blessing of which he could conceive would be
one breath of air.

Mrs. Payson, fearing from the expression of suffering on his
countenance that he was in mental distress, questioned him. He
replied, "Faith and patience hold out." These were the
last words of the dying Christian hero.

He gradually sunk away, till about the going down of the sun
his chastened and purified spirit, all mantled with the glory of
Christian triumph in life and death, ascended to share the
everlasting glory of his Redeemer before the eternal throne. --
Fifty Years and Beyond.

007 -- THE AWFUL DEATH OF AN INFIDEL SON

"I will never be guilty of founding my hopes for the
future upon such a compiled mess of trash as is contained in that
book (the Bible), mother. Talk o] that's being the production
of an Infinite mind; a boy ten years of age, if he was
half-witted, could have told a straighter story, and made a
better book. I believe it to be the greatest mess of lies ever
imposed upon the public. I would rather go to hell (if there is
such a place) than have the name of bowing to that impostor --
Jesus Christ -- and be dependent on his merits for
salvation."

"Beware! Beware! my son, 'for God is not mocked,'
although 'He beareth with the wicked long, yet he will not
keep His anger forever.' And 'all manner of sin shall be
forgiven men, except the sin against the Holy Ghost, which has no
forgiveness.' And many are the examples, both in sacred and
profane history, of men who have been smitten down in the midst
of their sinning against that blessed Spirit."

"Very well, father, I'll risk all the cutting down
that I shall get for cursing that book, and all the agonies
connected therewith. Let it come, I'm not at all
scared."

"O Father, lay not this sin to his charge, for he knows
not what he does."

"Yes, I do know what I'm about, and what I say -- and
mean it."

"John, do you mean to drive your mother raving
distracted? Oh, my God! what have I done that this dreadful trial
should come upon me in my old age?"

"Mother, if you don't want to hear me speak my
sentiments, why do you always begin the subject? If you do not
want to hear it, don't ever broach the subject again, for I
shall never talk of that book, in any other way."

The above conversation took place between two fond parents and
an only son, who was at home on a visit from college, and now was
about to return. And the cause of this outburst was, the
kind-hearted Christian parents had essayed to give him a few
words of kind admonition, which, alas! proved to be the last. And
the above were his last words which he spoke to them as he left
the house.

How anxiously those fond parents looked after him as though
something told them that something dreadful would happen. What
scalding tears were those that coursed their way down these
furrowed cheeks! Oh! that they might have been put in the bottle
of mercy! Poor, wretched young man, it had been better for him
had the avalanche from the mountain crushed him beneath its
deadly weight ere those words escaped his lips. Little did he
think that He who said, "Honor thy father and mother,"
and, "He that hardeneth his heart, and stiffeneth his neck,
shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy," was
so soon going to call him to give an account for those words, so
heart-rending to his aged parents, and so dreadful in the sight
of a holy God. He had imbibed those dreadful principles from an
infidel room-mate at college. Beware, young men, with whom you
associate, lest you fall as did this unfortunate young man.

John B. left his home and hastened to the depot where he took
the cars which were to bear him to M. where he was in a few
months to finish his studies. The whistle blew, and away swept
the cars "across the trembling plain." But alas! they
had gone but a few miles, when the cars, coming round a curve in
a deep cut, came suddenly upon an obstruction on the track, which
threw the engine and two of the cars at once from the rails.

As fate would seem to have it, the wicked son (John B.) was
that moment passing between them. He was thrown in an instant
from the platform, his left arm being "broken, and his skull
fractured by the fall; and in an instant one of the wheels passed
directly over both his legs near the body, breaking and mangling
them in the most dreadful manner. Strange as it may seem, no one
else was injured. The dreadful news soon reached his already
grief-stricken parents; and ere long that beloved, yet ungrateful
son, was borne back to them; not as he left, but lying upon a
litter a poor, mangled, raving maniac. Why these pious parents
were called to pass through this dreadful trial, He "whose
ways are in the deep and past finding out," only knows;
except that by this sad example of His wrath many might be saved.
Many skillful physicians were called, but the fiat of the
Almighty had gone forth, and man could not recall it. When the
news reached the college, his class-mates hastened to see him.
When they came, nature was fast sinking, but the immortal part
was becoming dreadfully alive. Oh! that heart-rending scene. His
reason returning brought with it a dreadful sense of his
situation. His first words were, and oh, may never mortal hear
such a cry as that again upon the shores of time:

"Mother! I'm lost! lost! lost! damned! damned! damned
forever!" and as his class-mates drew near to the bed, among
whom was the one who had poisoned his mind with infidelity, with
a dreadful effort he rose in the bed and cried, as he fixed his
glaring eyes upon him: "J___, you have brought me to this,
you have damned my soul! May the curses of the Almighty and the
Lamb rest upon your soul forever."

Then like a hellish fiend, he gnashed his teeth, and tried to
get hold of him that he might tear him in pieces. Then followed a
scene from which the strongest fled with horror. But those poor
parents had to hear and see it all, for he would not suffer them
to be away a moment. He fell back upon his bed exhausted, crying,
"O mother! mother, get me some water to quench this fire
that is burning me to death"; then he tore his hair and rent
his breast; the fire had already begun to burn, the smoke of
which shall ascend up for ever and ever. And then again he cried,
"O mother, save me, the devils have come after me. O mother,
take me in your arms, and don't let them have me." And
as his mother drew near to him, he buried his face in that fond
bosom which had nourished and cherished him, but, alas, could not
now protect or shield from the storm of the Almighty's wrath,
for he turned from her, and with an unearthly voice he shrieked,
"Father! mother! father, save me; they come to drag my soul
-- my soul to hell." And with his eyes starting from their
sockets, he fell back upon his bed a corpse. The spirit had fled
-- not like that of Lazarus, borne on the wings of a convoy of
angels, but dragged by fiends to meet a fearful doom. May his
dreadful fall prove a warning to those who would unwittingly walk
in the same path. -- Earnest Christian, September, 1867

008 -- "CHILDREN, IS THIS DEATH? HOW BEAUTIFUL!
HOW BEAUTIFUL!"

A preacher in Oregon, Rev. J. T. Leise, writes us as follows:
"I thought it might be to the glory of God to give you an
account of my mother's death. She died July 28, 1888, in the
township of Winnebago City, Faribault County, Minnesota. About
six months before her death I left home to enter the work of the
Lord. At that time, and also for years, mother had what we often
call an up-and-down experience. About July 1st, of the same year
she died, I got word to return home to see her die. On my arrival
I found mother very low, but having a strong faith in God. I
said, 'Mother, you have a better experience than you have
ever had.' 'Yes, Johnnie,' she said, 'about three
months ago I got what I have longed for for years.'
Mother's disease was of a dropsical character. With limbs
swollen, she would suffer intensely; but her faith in Jesus never
wavered. She would often speak of the glorious prospects in view.
The morning she died, about four o'clock, a sister and I were
sitting by her bed fanning her, when she suddenly opened her eyes
and said, 'Children, is this death? How beautiful; how
beautiful.' I said, 'Mother, you will soon be at rest. It
won't be long before you shall have crossed over and are at
home.' Mother never could sing to amount t o any. thing, but
on this occasion she sang as if inspired from Heaven,

O I long to be there
And His glories to share
And to lean on my Savior's breast.

About four hours after we were around her bed having family
worship, when, without a struggle, she passed away to be forever
with the Lord. Amen-

009 -- "MA, I CAN'T DIE TILL YOU PROMISE
ME."

At the close of a series of meetings in Springfield, Mass., a
mother handed me a little girl's picture wrapped in two
one-dollar bills, at the same time relating the following
touching incident:

Her only child, at the age of six years, gave her heart to the
Savior, giving, as the pastor with whom I was laboring said, the
clearest evidence of conversion.

At once she went to her mother and said, "Ma, I have
given my heart to Jesus and He has received me; now, won't
you give your heart to Him?" (The parents were both
unconverted at the time.) The mother replied, "I hope I
shall some time, dear Mary." The little girl said, "Do
it now, ma," and urged the mother, with all her childlike
earnestness, to give herself to the Savior then

Finding she could not prevail in that way, she sought to
secure a promise from her mother, feeling sure she would do what
she promised; for her parents had made it & point never to
make her a promise with. out carefully fulfilling it. So time
after time she would say, "Promise me, me"; and the
mother would reply, "I do not like to promise you, Mary, for
fear I shall not fulfill."

This request was urged at times for nearly six years, and
finally the little petitioner had to die to secure the
promise.

Several times during her sickness the parents came to her
bedside to see her die, saying to her, "You are dying now,
dear Mary." But she would say, "No, ma, I can't die
till you promise me." Still her mother was unwilling to make
the promise, lest it should not be kept. She intended to give her
heart to Jesus sometime, but was unwilling to do it
"now."

Mary grew worse, and finally had uttered her last word on
earth: her mother was never again to hear that earnest entreaty,
"Promise me, ma."

But the little one's spirit lingered, as if it were
detained by the angel sent to lead the mother to Jesus, that the
long-sought promise might be heard before it took its flight.

The weeping mother stood watching the countenance of the dying
child, who seemed to say, by her look, "Ma, promise me, and
let me go to Jesus." There was a great struggle in her heart
as she said to herself, "Why do I not promise this child? I
mean to give my heart to Jesus; why not now? If I do not promise
her now I never can."

The Spirit inclined her heart to yield. She roused her child
and said, "Mary, I will give my heart to Jesus." This
was the last bolt to be drawn; her heart was now open, and Jesus
entered at once, and she felt the joy and peace of sins
forgiven.

This, change was so marked, she felt constrained to tell the
good news to her child, that she might bear it with her where she
went to live with Jesus; so, calling her attention once more, she
said, "Mary, I have give my heart to Jesus, and He is my
Savior now."

For six years Mary had been praying to God and pleading with
her mother for these words; and now, and they fell upon her ear,
a peaceful smile lighted up her face, and, no longer able to
speak, she raised her little, pale hand, and pointing upward,
seemed to say, "Ma, we shall meet up there." Her
life's work was done, and her spirit returned to Him who gave
it.

The mother's heart was full o£ peace, though her
loved one had gone. She now felt very anxious that her husband
should have this blessing which she found in Christ.

The parents went into the room where the remains were resting,
to look upon the face of her who slept so sweetly in death, when
the mother said, 'Husband, I promised our little Mary that I
would give my heart to Jesus, and He has received me. Now,
won't you promise?"

The Holy Spirit was there. The strong man resisted for a
while, then yielded his will, and taking the little cold hand in
his, kneeled and said, "Jesus, I will try to seek
Thee."

The child's remains were laid in the grave. The parents
were found in the house of prayer -- the mother happy in Jesus,
and the father soon having some evidence of love to Christ.

When I closed my labors in Springfield, Dr. Ide said to his
congregation, "I hope you will all give Bro. Earle some
token of your regard for his services before he leaves." As
this mother heard these words, she said she could, as it were,
see her little Mary's hand pointing down from heaven, and
heard her sweet voice saying, "Ma, give him my two
one-dollars."

Those two one-dollars I have now, wrapped around the picture
of that dear child, and wherever I go, little Mary will speak for
the Savior.

Reader, is there not some loved one now pointing down from
heaven and saying to you, "Give your heart to Jesus"?
Are you loving some earthly object more than Jesus? God may sever
that tie -- may take away your little Mary, or Willie, or some
dear friend. Will you not come to Jesus, without such a warning?
-- Bringing in Sheaves

010 -- THE CHILD MARTYR

The noted evangelist, E. P. Hammond, writes us from his home
at Hartford, Conn., Aug. 11, 1898, and sends us the following
reliable and very touching article for this work:

I have been surprised to notice how many children have died a
martyr death rather than deny Jesus. I want to tell you about one
of these young martyrs. In Antioch, where the disciples were
first called Christians, a deacon from the church of Caesarea was
called to bear cruel torture to force him to deny the Lord who
bought him with His precious blood. While he was being tortured
he still declared his faith, saying: "There is but one God
and one mediator between God and man, Christ Jesus." His
body was almost torn in pieces. The cruel emperor, Galerius,
seemed to enjoy looking upon him in his suffering. At length this
martyr begged his tormentors to ask any Christian child whether
it was better to worship one God, the maker of heaven and earth,
and one Savior, who had died for us, and was able to bring us to
God, or to worship the gods many and the lords many whom the
Romans served. There stood near by a Roman mother who had brought
with her a little boy, nine years of age, that he might witness
the sufferings of this martyr from Caesarea. The question was
asked the child. He quickly replied, "God is one and Christ
is one with the Father."

The persecutor was filled with fresh rage and cried out,
"O base and wicked Christian, that thou hast taught this
child to answer thus." Then turning to the boy, he said more
mildly, "Child, tell me who taught thee thus to speak? Where
did you learn this faith?"

The boy looked lovingly into his mother's face and said,
"It was God that taught it to my mother, and she taught me
that Jesus Christ loved little children, and so I learned to love
Him for his first love for me."

"Let us see what the love of Christ can do for you,"
cried the cruel judge, and at a sign from him the officers who
stood by with their rods, after the fashion of the Romans,
quickly seized the boy and made ready to torture him.

"What can the love of Christ do for him now?" asked
the judge, as the blood streamed from the tender flesh of the
child. "It helps him," answered the mother, "to
bear what his master endured for him when he died for us on the
cross."

Again they smote the child, and every blow seemed to torture
the agonized mother as much as the child. As the blows, faster
and heavier, were laid upon the bleeding boy, they asked,
"What can the love of Christ do for him now?"

Tears fell from heathen eyes as that Roman mother replied,
"It teaches him to forgive his tormentors." The boy
watched his mother's eyes and no doubt thought of the
sufferings of his Lord and Savior, and when his tormentors asked
if he would now serve the gods they served, he still answered,
"I will not deny Christ. There is no other God but one, and
Jesus Christ is the redeemer of the world. Be loved me and died
for me, and I love him with all my heart."

The poor child at last fainted between the repeated strokes,
and they cast the torn and bleeding body into the mother's
arms, saying, supposing that he was dead, "See what the love
of Christ has done for your Christian boy now."

As the mother pressed him to her heart she answered,
"That love would take him from the wrath of man to the peace
of heaven, where God shall wipe away all tears!"

But the boy had not yet passed over the river. Opening his
eyes, he said, "Mother, can I have a drop of water from our
cool well upon my tongue?"

As he closed his eyes in death the mother said, "Already,
dearest, thou hast tasted of the well that springeth up unto
everlasting life. Farewell! thy Savior calls for thee. Happy,
happy martyr! for His sake may He grant thy mother grace to
follow in thy bright path."

To the surprise of all, after they thought he bad closed his
eyes and had breathed his last, he finally raised his eyes and
looked to where the elder martyr was, and said in almost a
whisper, "There is but one God, and Jesus Christ whom He has
sent." And with these words upon his parched lips, he passed
into God's presence, "where is fullness of joy, and to
His right hand, where are pleasures forevermore."

Are you, my dear reader, a Christian? If not, you can become
one now. That same Jesus who bled and died to save that little
Roman boy, suffered on the cross for you, and He is ever ready to
give you a new heart, so that you will love Him so much that you
would be willing to die a death of suffering rather than deny
Him.

011 -- THE SAD DEATH OF A LOST MAN

Near the town of K___, in Texas, there lived and prospered, a
wealthy farmer, the son of a Methodist preacher, with whom the
writer was intimately acquainted. He was highly respected in the
community in which he lived. He was a kind-hearted and benevolent
man; but, however, had one great fault -- he was very profane. He
would utter the most horrible oaths without, seemingly, the least
provocation. On several occasions, I remember having seen him
under deep conviction for salvation, during revival meetings. On
one occasion, during a camp-meeting, he was brought under
powerful conviction. He afterwards said he was suddenly
frightened, and felt as if he wanted to run away from the place.
Just one year from that time, another camp-meeting was held at
the same place, and he was again brought under conviction, but
refused to yield; after which he was suddenly taken ill, and died
in three days. I was with him in his last moments. He seemed to
be utterly forsaken of the Lord from the beginning of his
sickness. The most powerful medicines had no effect on him
whatever. Just as the sun of a beautiful Sabbath morning rose in
its splendor over the eastern hills, he died -- in horrible
agony. All through the night previous to his death, he suffered
untold physical and mental torture. He offered the physicians all
his earthly possessions if they would save his life. He was
stubborn till the very last; and would not acknowledge his fear
of death until a few moments before he died; then, suddenly he
began to look, then to stare, horribly surprised and frightened,
into the vacancy before him; then exclaimed, as if he beheld the
king of terrors in all of his merciless wrath, "My
God!" The indescribable expression of his countenance, at
this juncture, together with the despairing tones in which he
uttered these last words, made every heart quake. His wife
screamed, and begged a brother to pray for him; but he was so
terror-stricken that he rushed out of the room. The dying man
continued to stare in dreadful astonishment, his mouth wide open,
and his eyes protruding out of their sockets, till at last with
an awful groan,

"Like a flood with rapid force,
Death bore the wretch away."

His little three-year-old son, the idol of his father's
heart, was convulsed with grief. This little boy, then so
innocent, grew up to be a wicked young man, and died a horrible
death. Oh how sad! When we reflect that in hell there are
millions of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and
wives, hopelessly lost, given over forever to the mad ravages of
eternal, pitiless wrath, ever frightened by real ghosts, tortured
by serpents and scorpions, gnawed by the worm that never dies;
and when we reflect that this, the future state of the wicked,
will never abate its fury but, according to the natural law of
sin, degradation and wretchedness, will grow worse and more
furious as the black ages of eternity roll up from darker realms,
we turn for relief from the sad reverie to the Man of Sorrows,
who tasted death for every man, then to the beautiful city. whose
builder and maker is God, to the bliss of the glorified who will
shine as the stars for ever and ever; then with renewed efforts
we continue with gratitude to work out our own, and the salvation
of others, with fear and trembling. -- The Ambassador

012 -- THE COURAGE AND TRIUMPHANT DEATH OF ST.
LAURENCE THE MARTYR

Laurentius, usually called St. Laurence, was archdeacon under
Sextus, and when that bishop was led out to execution, Laurence
accompanied and comforted him. As they parted from each other for
the last time, Sextus warned his faithful follower that his
martyrdom would soon come after his own: that this prophecy was
true is indicated by the tradition that has been handed down to
us telling of his subsequent seizure and cruel death.

The Christian church of Rotor, even at this early period, had
in its treasury considerable riches -- both in money, and in gold
and silver vessels used at the services of the church. All these
treasures were under the watchful eye of Laurence, the
archdeacon. Besides maintaining its clergy, the church supported
many poor widows and orphans; nearly fifteen hundred of these
poor people, whose names Laurence kept upon his list, lived upon
the charity of the church. Sums of money were also constantly
needed to help struggling churches which had been newly
established in distant parts of the world.

Macrianus, governor of Rome under the emperor Valerian, had
heard of these riches, and longed to seize them; he therefore
sent soldiers to arrest Laurence, who was soon taken and dragged
before the governor. As soon as Macrianus' pitiless eyes
rested upon the prisoner, he said harshly:

"I hear that you who call yourselves Christians possess
treasures of gold and silver, and that your priests use golden
vessels at your services. Is this true?"

Laurence answered: "The church, indeed, has great
treasures."

"Then bring those treasures forth," said Macrianus.
"Do not your sacred books tell you to render unto Caesar the
things that are Caesar's? The emperor has need of those
riches for the defense of the empire; therefore you must render
them up."

After reflecting deeply for a few moments, Laurence replied:
"In three days I will bring before you the greatest
treasures of the church."

This answer satisfied the governor; so Laurence was set free,
and Macrianus impatiently awaited the time when the expected
stores of gold and silver should be placed before him.

On the appointed day Macrianus, attended by his officers, came
to the place where the Christians usually assembled. They were
calmly received by Laurence at the entrance and invited to pass
into an inner room.

"Are the treasures collected?" was the first
question of Macrianus.

"They are, my lord," replied Laurence; "will
you enter and view them?"

With these words he opened a door and displayed to the
astounded gaze of the governor, the poor pensioners of the
church, a chosen number -- a row of the lame, a row of the blind,
orphans and widows, the helpless and the weak. Astonished by the
sight, the governor turned fiercely upon Laurence, saying:
"What mean you by this mockery? Where are the treasures of
gold and silver you promised to deliver up?"

"These that you see before you," replied the
undaunted Laurence, "are the true treasures of the church.
In the widows and orphans you behold her gold and silver, her
pearls and precious stones. These are her real riches. Make use
of them by asking for their prayers; they will prove your best
weapon against your foes."

Enraged and disappointed at not securing the hoped-for gold
(which had been carried to a place of safety during the three
days that had elapsed), the governor furiously commanded his
guards to seize Laurence and take him to a dungeon. There,
terrible to relate, a great fire was built upon the stone floor,
and a huge gridiron placed upon it; then the martyr was stripped
of his clothing and thrown upon this fiery bed, to slowly perish
in the scorching heat.

The cruel tyrant gazed down upon this dreadful sight to
gratify his hatred and revenge; but the martyr had strength and
spirit to triumph over him even to the last. Not a murmur escaped
him, but with his dying breath he prayed for the. Christian
church at Rome, and for the conversion of the entire empire to
God; and so, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he gave up the
ghost.

A Roman soldier, named Romanus, who looked on at the
sufferings of St. Laurence, was so much affected by the
martyr's courage and faith that he became a convert to
Christianity. As soon as this was known the soldier was severely
scourged, and afterward be. headed. -- Foxe's Book of
Martyrs

013 -- TRIUMPHANT DEATH OF GEORGE EDWARD
DRYER

This saint of God went to heaven from Readsburg, Wis., Feb. 1,
1896. His sister, Mrs. Evaline Dryer Green, sends us the
following:

Dear readers, come with me for a little while as I look on
memory's walls. See, there are many things written there!
Here is one story, sweet and sacred, almost too sacred to relate;
yet as" with hushed voices we talk of this, our hearts shall
melt and we shall feel that heaven is drawing nigher.

I remember my baby brother -- though I was a child of but four
years when he came into our home. I well remember that little
face as I saw it first. I remember the chubby brown hands when he
was a wee boy, always in mischief then. 1 was a frail girl, and
he soon outgrew me. Then those sweet years of home life-and later
the glad home comings when I was away at school. On my return
George was always the first to wave his hand and shout for joy --
perhaps toss his hat high in the air and give a certain
"whoop" and three cheers that I loved to hear. We were
right loyal friends, my brother and I. And then -- ah, its here
I'd wish to draw the vail, and forget. We thought he would
accomplish his ambitions -- so strong, so full of life! But we
will only glance at those long months of suffering and hasten to
the last. Nearly eighteen months of weariness from coughing, and
there he lay, the picture of patient endurance, saying from his
heart's depths,

"Farewell, mortality -- Jesus is mine
Welcome, eternity -- Jesus is mine!"

Often he would call me near him and say, "Oh, sister, the
Lord does so save me!" To the doctor, the boys of his own
age, to neighbors, and all who came, he testified how Jesus saved
him, through and through.

The last hours were drawing near. One of the Lord's
servants came and prayed. George prayed for father, mother,
brothers and sisters. A little later in the evening a sweat,
deathly cold, covered him. We thought he was going then -- the
poor, weak body seemed all but gone, while the spirit grew even
more bright. Ah, that picture! That high, marble-white brow,
either cheek glowing with fever intense, great, expressive blue
eyes, that peered earnestly, joyfully, all about him and upward.
Those dear hands were lifted high, while he said, with heaven
lighting his face,

"Angels now are hovering round us."

(Even now I feel to say, as I did then, "O death, where
is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?")

Again he came back to us -- to spend one more night of
suffering on earth, and to work for God and eternity. We watched
all night, while he praised God, often saying 'under his
breath, between awful fits of coughing, "Precious
Jesus!" Toward morning he asked a dear sister to sing
"I Saw A Happy Pilgrim."

Finally the morning came; a dark, rainy morning in February.
The gray light was just dawning when we all gathered about his
bed. We repeated beautiful texts to him, and verses of hymns that
he most loved, and encouraged him to the very river's brink.
His last spoken words were, "Eva, come on this side."
Then, peacefully he closed his eyes and grew so still.

"And with the morn, those angel faces smile, Which I have
loved long since -- and lost a while."

014 -- "FIVE MINUTES MORE TO
LIVE"

A young man stood before a large audience in the most fearful
position a human being could be placed-on the scaffold! The noose
had been adjusted around his neck. In a few moments more he would
be in eternity. The sheriff took out his watch and said, "If
you have anything to say, speak now; as you have but five minutes
more to live." What awful words for a young man to hear, in
full health and vigor!

Shall I tell you his message to the youth about him? He burst
into tears and said with sobbing: "1 have to die! I had only
one little brother. He had beautiful blue eyes and flaxen hair.
How I loved him! I got drunk -- the first time. I found my little
brother gathering strawberries. I got angry with him, without
cause; and killed him with a blow from a rake. I knew nothing
about it till I awoke on the following day and found myself
closely guarded. They told me that when my little brother was
found, his hair was clotted with his blood and brains. Whisky had
done it! It has ruined me! I have only one more word to say to
the young people before I go to stand in the presence of my
Judge. Never, Never, NEVER touch anything that can
intoxicate!"

Whiskey did it! The last words of this doomed young man make
our heart ache, and we cry out to God, "How long, how long
shall our nation be crazed with rum? When, oh when, will the
American people wake up?" Oh that the professed people of
God would vote as they pray. What about the licensed saloon that
deals out this poison that sends millions reeling and crazed with
drink to hell? What about the multitudes of innocent people who
are killed by inches and sacrificed to the god of rum? We protect
and license a man who deals out death and destruction, and hang a
man who gets drunk and kills his neighbor. Who was most to blame
-- this young man, or the saloon-keeper who made him crazy, or
the government that gave the saloon-keeper license not only to
make crazy but to ruin soul and body? God help us to decide this
question in the light of the coming judgment. Amen.

015 -- BLACK DAYS AND WHITE ONES -- A RESCUE
STORY

We are thankful to God that we have had the privilege of
helping to launch the Rescue Home in Grand Rapids, Mich. We
induced the Salvation Army to open a home in our city by
furnishing the buildings free of rent the first year, and by
helping in other ways. Capt. Duzau, the first in charge, led not
only the subject of the sketch to God, but most of the other
girls that passed through the home have been saved from a life of
shame, and I am told by good authority that most all of the girls
who enter the various rescue homes of the Army are saved. We
quote the following from the War Cry:

Alice's life had always been a sad one -- at least, as far
as she could remember. Perhaps the first three years of babyhood
life had been as pleasant and happy as if she had been born in a
more comfortable home But Alice couldn't be sure about this,
and no one else could speak for her.

Certainly there was misery and unhappiness from one day on --
misery that lasted for nearly fifteen years of girlhood life.
That was the day which came shortly after her third birthday,
when Alice ceased to be a baby.

She couldn't remember much about it, but it seemed like a
big, round, black spot, big enough to shut out all the sunlight
from life. The day itself was dark and gloomy, but that
wasn't the worst. Some strange men Alice had never seen
before came to the little house -- and they were all dressed in
black -- and they took away something in a long, black box -- and
Alice never saw her mother again after that day. No wonder it
seemed to the child -- the youngest one of the five thus suddenly
left motherless -- like something black and awful.

Besides, after that, life was bitterly hard for the one who
was still the youngest, but no longer watched over with care that
even a three-year-old baby needs. Things at home which had been
in some ways bad enough before were worse now; and, from that
time on, the child grew up in an atmosphere of such moral
degradation that it is a wonder she did not fall sooner and sin
more deeply than was the case. Two of her sisters lived an openly
sinful life, and assuredly the brother for whom she went to keep
house as soon as she was old enough, was no better. A companion
of this brother came to the house one day; when he went away he
was as light-hearted and careless as ever, but he left behind him
such a burden of shame and sorrow and disgrace as poor Alice felt
she could not carry.

This girl of seventeen went to her two sisters with the weight
of sorrow and wrong, to the two sisters who should have stood in
the place of mother to her.

"Nonsense," said Kate, "why, you'll get
used to it!" Bettina was a little more sympathetic, but even
more discouraging. "I never thought you'd feel like
that," she said, "but it's too late to mend matters
now. It could have been helped yesterday, but not today.
What's done can't be undone. There isn't a
respectable woman in the world whom speak to you now!" Alice
walked away as if in a dream. "What's done can't be
undone," she kept repeating to herself, as if to fasten the
direful statement upon her mind and memory. Occasionally the
words changed, and she repeated, "It's too late to mend
matters now."

It was the old argument, used so successfully in scores and
hundreds and thousands of cases -- the argument that one step
down the ladder of disgrace involves the whole distance, that
there is no hope, no way of escape, after the first
wrong-doing.

"There's no help for it -- you are doomed now,
anyway-no respectable woman could speak to you -- you might as
well take what pleasure you can out of this life." In almost
every case, someone is sure to come with this temptation of utter
hopelessness, and the young girl whose better nature is fighting
against the horror of the whole thing, calls on that better
nature to yield the battle. "It is no use trying to be
good," she says despairingly.

So it was with Alice Sawyer. She knew of no one in the village
to whom she could go for help, or even Christian advice, and she
gave up the struggle. "It isn't my fault," she said
to herself once when her half dormant conscience spoke out and
would be heard. "There simply isn't any way out for me,
or if there is, I can't find it, and that's the same
thing."

Weeks passed by, during which no one would have suspected that
Alice Sawyer felt any repugnance toward the careless, irregular
sort of life she was leading. "There, I knew she'd get
used to it soon enough," exclaimed Kate one day.

But Bettina said nothing. Deep down in her heart there was a
sort of sorrow for her youngest sister, but it was a sorrow she
did not know how to put into words.

After a time Alice went away from home and found her way to
the city of Grand Rapids. Like many others, she imagined that it
would be easy to hide her shame in the midst of a crowd, and as
soon as she arrived in the city she began her search for
work.

She wanted to be lost, but instead she was found-found by the
One who came to seek and to save that which was lost.

Almost at the beginning of her search for work, Alice
discovered that one part at least of the disheartening prophecy
was untrue, because she came across an earnest Christian lady,
who not only "spoke to her," but even took her into her
own home for the night.

The next day this lady brought her to the Salvation Army
Rescue Home in Grand Rapids. Alice wanted to stay, and was very
grateful for the opportunity. Yet it all seemed so strange, so
unexpected, that it took the poor child some time to realize that
"the way out" of her sin and misery had, actually been
found, and that the door was open before her into paths of new
life and hope.

Kneeling by her bedside one night, Alice claimed fur herself
the power of that uttermost salvation which alone can take away
the bitterness from the memory of such a past as hers, and which
alone can make it possible to sing,

He breaks the power of canceled sin,
He sets the prisoner free:
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood avails for me.

That night marked the last of Alice's unhappy days, the
"black ones" as she sometimes called them in contrast
to the "white ones" of the new life which then began.
Her one sorrow was for those left behind in the village home,
without any knowledge of Christ, and she prayed for them all,
especially for her father, then seventy-one years old.

"It will take something to touch my father's
heart," she said one day to the Captain of the Home;
"but I am praying for him, and I believe he will give his
heart to God."

That "something" which should touch her father's
heart came sooner than was expected by some.

Alice had to go to the hospital, and after she had been there
a short time it became evident that she would never be able to go
out again. But she had no fear, and was sorry only because she
had hoped to be able to go to others with the story of that
wonderful salvation which had availed for her.

On the first evening of her stay in the hospital the Captain
and Lieutenant of the Rescue Home went with her and stayed a few
hours. As they were saying goodnight to her and to the nurse who
was to have her in charge, Alice suddenly dropped on her knees by
the bedside.

It was indeed a striking picture. On the one side the two
Salvationists in their uniforms, on the other side the nurse in
hers, while by the bedside knelt the girl of eighteen who had
been saved in time from a life of misery and sorrow. It seemed as
if the very light of heaven were striking through, illuminating
the scene with divine radiance and blessing. It may indeed have
been so, for Alice was rapidly nearing the very gates of
heaven.

Suddenly the summons came -- such a summons always is sudden
at the last, even when the possibility has been in view for some
time.

Word was sent to the Rescue Home, and the Captain came at once
to the hospital. "I do love you, Captain," said Alice.
Then, with her eyes steadfastly fixed on the face of the one who
had lead her into the light of salvation through Jesus, the girl
passed quietly, peacefully away to that land where there is no
more pain, for the "former things are passed away."

This scene might do very well as a beautiful ending to a story
which began in sadness and gloom. It was indeed a bright, white,
glorious day in Alice's experience, but it did not mark the
end of her work on earth.

The "something" which was to touch her father's
heart did reach and touch that man of seventy-one through his
youngest daughter's death.

At the simple funeral service, held in the Rescue Home, he
came forward like a child, knelt sobbing by the coffin and asked
God to help him meet his Alice in the great, wonderful land
beyond the grave. -- Adjutant Elizabeth M. Clark

016 -- TRIUMPHANT DEATH OF MRS. MARGARET
HANEY

Mrs. Margaret Haney, of Greenville, Mich., died of cancer, May
31, 1896, aged 53 years. She was converted fifteen years ago in a
meeting held by Bro. S. B. Shaw. Sister Haney was born in Canada.
She was an excellent Christian. A few days before she died she
said to one of the sisters, "Do you know that I love
Jesus?" and to another sister she said, "He fills my
soul with glory." Tuesday before she died she waved her
hands and praised the Lord while Sister Taylor was reading,
"I go to prepare a place for you," etc. A few hours
before she passed away I said, "Sister Haney, do you know
Jesus?" and she nodded her head, after she could speak no
more. She arranged her temporal matters for her departure,
selected the text for her funeral (Rev. 14: 13) and asked Bro. D.
G. Briggs to preach her funeral sermon. The funeral was held at
Greenville, June 2. The Comforter was present to give hope and
cheer to sorrowing f