WE were giving gospel papers to the dwellers in a row of cottages in Berkshire, where one of our friends found out a man, very weak and aged, whose face bore upon it a sweet and simple expression.
“That hand of mine is a guilty hand," said the friend who had led the old man forth from his cottage; and spreading it open, he recounted a theft that in years gone by his hand had been the instrument of committing. The old man looked astonished at such a confession; but had to make a similar one the next minute, as our friend took his trembling, thin hand, and spreading' it beside his own, said, "And yours is a guilty hand, too. We are both guilty, for whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.”
“Ah! that we be," said the old man, and he evidently meant it—at least, so far as it concerned himself.
My friend then went on to say that the Lord Jesus had suffered for the sins of His people, that for every evil deed they had done, including sins which people generally regard as trivial, He bore the penalty on the cross. "He was wounded for our transgressions,'" added my friend, "and there are the nail-marks in His blessed hand, though He is glorified in heaven. Tell me, my dear friend, was the blessed Lord Jesus wounded for your transgressions? Can you say, ' It was for me'?”
With a look of childlike simplicity upon his countenance, the aged man said—
“Yes, sir, I can. It was for me.”
“Bless the Lord, my dear brother, bless the Lord; He loves you.”
Observing his tottering frame, our friend referred to his weakness.
“My heart is very feeble," he replied, "very feeble.”
“Never mind, brother; when the frail body breaks up, the spirit will escape and fly away up yonder. It will be as in the little story I will relate to you: —
“One day, I was talking to a woman in her garden, when her husband became very angry and began knocking the things about. Taking up a broom, he struck at a little bird which was singing in a small wicker cage. The cage fell with a crash to the earth and was broken to bits, but the little bird was set free, and it soared up, up, up into the blue sky, singing all the way. You are like the little bird singing in the old cage to-day; but by-and-by death's last blow will destroy the body, and your spirit will be set at liberty, to wing its way right up to heaven and the Lord Jesus." W. L.