A CHRISTIAN mother died with the hand of her little son clasped in her own. Years passed and the boy grew to manhood, reckless and abandoned in character. The memory of his mother’s prayers, and of the lessons he had learned at her side, seemed to have faded away. From one excess of wickedness into another he plunged, until his cup of iniquity seemed full. Then, by the abounding mercy of God, he was snatched as a brand from the burning, and became a new creature in Christ. Speaking of his life of sin, he said that, hardened as he seemed, and indifferent to all things sacred, there never was a time when tempted to sin, that he did not feel the clasp of his dying mother’s hand, drawing him from the paths of sin to the ways of holiness, with a force which he found it hard to resist. That mother, though dead, yet spoke.