We have all been praying that God would bless your words to him. We would be content to see him die if his fears were taken away."

I found him in pain, battling hard for breath. I saw that many words would weary him.

"What can I say to him?" I asked myself. Lifting up my heart in silent prayer, I began—

"Do you believe that I would save you on the spot, if I could?”

"Yes," he replied at once, with a look of surprise. "Is Christ less willing to save you than I am?"

He looked up to the ceiling as if searching for an answer, and then round the walls, and, after a pause, replied, "Well-no.”

"This is strange: you are quite sure that I am willing to save you, but you are not so sure that Christ is willing. You said yes at once, but your no came very slowly. Why is that?”

"Ah, I see now that my doubts are very unreasonable."

"Yes, they are very unreasonable; for Christ came into the world to save sinners: He lived to save; He died to save; He rose again and ascended to heaven to save; He is able to save unto the uttermost; and He has said, 'Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out! By this time he had grown tired. I had a few words of prayer, and left. The next day his mother came to the door when I rang the bell. "Come in," she said cheerily, taking my hand. "Your words were just what my dear

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son needed, and God has blessed them to him. He is now calmly trusting in Christ, and his fear of death is gone." I found that his soul was in quietness and confidence, and by-and-by he died in peace. Oh, it is a grand thing to have from your youth up a perfect, living, working faith in the willingness of Christ to save you, and to cleave unto Him as the little bird cleaves to the side of the mother.

"I would have gathered you," Christ says: no other protector is needed; He will do for you. Thank God that Christ's is the only name whereby we can be saved. It is enough that you be under His mediatorial wings. In Him the Almighty covers you with His feathers. There your soul finds a warm, perfect, and eternal shelter.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE LORD'S supper.

"And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is My body. And He took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; for this is My blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins."—MATT. xxvi. 26-28.

THE Lord's Supper is a grand object-lesson for young and old: a gift to the senses, and an aid to faith. It is the only feast or festival that Christ appointed, and it must therefore teach lessons that we should learn very often.

How simple it all is! One does not see how it could have been simpler. Three very short verses give us all the words of Christ about it. Yet in Romish and Ritualistic Churches, you find at the Lord's Supper incense, bell ringings, much earthly pomp, processions, comings and goings, dresses of many bright colours, many articles with strange Latin names, and priests turning their backs upon the people. Gavazzi, who was once a Roman Catholic priest, told me that a young priest could scarcely learn how to celebrate mass (that is their name for the Lord's Supper) in less than six weeks; and yet Matthew uses only sixtysix words in describing it. One wonders where the

Romanists and their sympathisers get their odd ways of observing this holy rite.

We try to keep as closely as possible to Christ's way of observing the Lord's Supper. We use a seemly white cloth to remind us of the table in the upper chamber. When we have given thanks, as Christ did, we break the bread, and give both bread and wine to all the communicants. We do not lay a wafer on the tongue, or keep back the cup from any. Like the Twelve, we do not kneel, but sit, as we receive the bread and wine; and we link on to the sacred rite only prayer, praise, the Word of God, and quiet meditation. We wish to be like the first disciples in spirit as we are like them in our methods. We do with our hands what they did, and we wish to do with our hearts what they did.

A single diamond must have some fifty facets or little faces to bring out its full lustre, and the Lord's Supper, like the diamond, flashes out light on all sides. It brings before our eyes the sum total of our faith, and so

I. Christ.

Everything here speaks of Him: take Him away, and nothing is left. The bread is the sign of His body; the wine of His blood; and the table is for His disciples; and He has said to us, "This do in remembrance of Me." In many of the churches in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, a very large statue of Christ overshadows the communion table. The eye is thus fixed

not on it, but on Him: that is as it should be. Christ wishes His people to keep His memory alive till the end of the world, and at the Lord's table we all enter into a sacred conspiracy to do so. We there own that we shall not let His name and redeeming love perish from the minds of men. This is so plain that a little. child at once sees it.

The Lord's Supper also sets evidently before our eyes

II. Christ Crucified.

The first Lord's Supper sprang out of the Passover, as the blossom springs out of the bud. The Passover celebrated salvation by the slain Lamb. The bread was broken in token of the breaking of Christ's body by the nails, the spear, and the crown of thorns. The wine poured out is a sensible sign of His shed blood. And we are not left in doubt about the reason why Christ suffered. His death, no doubt, shows us what self-sacrificing love can do: it should soften our hearts and make us ashamed of our selfishness. But that is not its only or its chief end, for Christ says, "This is My blood of the new covenant which is shed for many for the remission of sins." To remit is the opposite of to retain or keep, and the remission of sins is the putting of them away. Christ's birth, words, deeds, example, and spirit should do us great good; but you notice that He wishes us at His table to fill our minds with His death and the putting away of our sins by it. We are there affectionately to remember Him as