TWICE have I been a prisoner; but the imprisonment of which 1 shall first speak was a very brief one.
One morning I had gone with my sister to the Sunday-school, where she, having placed me among the infant scholars, went on to her own class. When lessons were over the infants left their own class-room to march two and two out of school. Being a new corner I was the last of all, and before I could get out, one little urchin mischievously slammed the door in my face, so I was left behind, shut in alone. I stood and cried, but no one heard me, no one came to liberate me. After a time, however, I managed to open the door which led into the larger school, only to find, to my dismay, that I was still a prisoner, for the outer door was locked. Full of grief, I wandered about, upstairs and down; but every room was vacant, and, not knowing what to do, I sat down upon the staircase, where I could look out of the window into the street.
Presently a man came towards the window. He exclaimed, "However came you in there?"
"They locked me in," replied I, gloomily.
“Well, I will try and get a key, and let you out," said he; and he went away.
He, I am sure, would have been only too pleased to set me free, but he could not—he had no key.
Some considerable time afterward, as a lady and gentleman were passing the school, they noticed the little prisoner. The lady at once produced a key, opened the door, and set me free, to my own great joy, and to the relief of my sister who had already anxiously begun to search for her lost little brother.
But I must hasten on to speak of another imprisonment, which lasted several long years. In spite of repeated warnings, I had been foolish enough to listen to one whose word can never be trusted. I wanted to have my own way—to do as I pleased, and he knew this, and with fair promises enticed me to do as he bade me, until, before I was aware, I was caught in his toils as a bird is caught in a snare. I then found, to my cost, that I had placed confidence in one who is a liar, a deceiver, and the hardest of masters. I was a prisoner, led captive by Satan, at his will. While I was yet in the bondage of sin and death, a gentleman came to me, to ask if I would attend a confirmation class; several of my companions were coming, would I also come?
“No," I replied; and when pressed for a, reason, I said, "When I am a Christian I will profess to be one, and not before. I am not going to add to my sins." Those who heard my answer did not know how my heart ached as I uttered those words, or how at that moment I realized something of what it is to be a sinner, far off from God.
With the kindest of motives this gentleman tried to persuade me to “make a profession of religion," and my continued refusals appeared to grieve him. Had he pointed me to Jesus as the sinner's only refuge—had he told me of the blood that cleanseth from all sins—it may be that the Lord would have used his words as a means of blessing to my soul—that there and then the truth would have made me free. But while he spake only of “religion," and told me not of Him who died to deliver those” who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage," his kind words did me no real good. Like the man who had no key, this gentleman could not help me, and he left me still beneath the power of darkness.
Some months afterward another friend addressed himself to me, but, instead of asking me to make a profession of religion, he simply told me of Jesus, and of God's great salvation.
Then I began to entreat the Lord to bring my soul out of prison, and He heard my cry, and delivered my soul.
I am no longer Satan's prisoner: I now rejoice in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made me free.
Does any reader long for deliverance from the bondage of sin and death? Think not to obtain it merely by making a profession of religion, but rather " seek ye the Lord while He may be found: call ye upon Him while He is near." He can and will deliver you; and if the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. A. J.