of this. "Oh, I should like to see my heart" says one. Should you? In the 17th of Jeremiah and 9th verse, you

see it there "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Blood must wash it-the blood of Jesus!

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Suppose some child were to say to me, "Sir, I don't tell lies, or break the Sabbath," or say bad words." "Well," I should say, I am glad to hear it; but tell me my dear child are you not a great sinner ?” "Well I can't see that I am a great sinner. I am not so bad as Charley so and so, or as Betsey so and so." Ah, you are like the pharisee who thanked God he was not so bad as other men. Come to the looking-glass and see your heart there-" desperately

wicked."

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But suppose another dear child were to say to meTeacher, I know my heart is very bad; I cannot make it better; I want to be forgiven, I do want Jesus.

for my Saviour, but I am a poor sinful child."
poor child,
and say,-

"A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,

On Thy kind arms I fall;

Be Thou my glorious righteousness,

My Jesus, and my all."

I want Him

Go to Him

And when you have done this, come to the looking-glass and see-your heart is washed in the blood of Jesus-and hear him say in the 4th Song of Solomon, 7th verse:

all fair-there is no spot in thee."

"Thou art

For the last letter in the word BIBLE, I give you EVERGREEN.

See the once beautiful trees

Go to the gardens in winter. all naked and bare; but yonder is a beautiful myrtle or Evergreen, and now that the other leaves are gone it seems more beautiful than ever. And so, my dear children, if we love Jesus and His precious word, when every other comfort is gone, this book remains a comfort still. In the winter of affliction, in the winter of trouble, in the winter of pain, in

the winter of old age, and in the winter of death, the blessed book of God blooms for us like a lovely Evergreen!

I will close this address with a little story :

One day a kind lady met in the streets a poor ragged child. The lady had a sweet face, and was nicely dressed. The poor child was dirty, without shoe or stocking; her dirty cotton frock hung all in tatters; her hair was uncombed, her face had not been washed for weeks. How was this? She had a wicked drunken father. The lady looked at the poor child, and a tear of pity came on her cheek. She had a school in her own house for children that were very poor. She was one of those who love to do good for Jesus' sake. She said, "My dear child, will you come to my school? you must be washed and I will give you clothes to come." "Oh ma'am," the girl replied," my father would sell them as soon as ever he sees them for drink." "Well then," said the lady, "you shall put the clothes on at my house." The kind lady took the poor ragged forsaken child, washed her, dressed her in neat clothes, and took her into her school. The poor little girl had not been long in that lady's school before she learned to love Jesus and to love His word. She hid that word, like some precious jewel, in her heart of hearts; and then her kind lady friend gave her a nice little Testament She had never had such a treasure before. It was her delight; it was her companion all day, and at night, while she hid the truth of it in her heart, she hid the book under her pillow. By-and-bye the little girl was taken ill; and on the bed where she lay ill, there she died. While she lay ill her drunken father, between his fits of drunkeness, would come and sit half sober only, beside her little heap of straw and old pillow on it, that formed her bed. One day he spied the Testament and when he thought his poor child had gone to sleep, slily and softly he put his hand under the pillow, laid hold of the Testament, and drew it out, went off with it, sold it for twopence, and spent the money in gin. Several days after, when he thought the Testament was for

gotten, he came one day and sat by the poor child's bedside again. The little girl roused up from sleep; "Father," she said, "you know my little Testament is gone, but I have got it here (pointing to her heart). Father, I am dying: I am going to Jesus; but when I see my Saviour, what shall I say if He asks me, father-what shall I tell Him you did with my little Testament ?" Ah! those words of that little child smote the wicked man to the heart; and when his little girl was dead and gone, again and again those words rang in his ears, "What shall I tell Him you did with my little Testament ?" He began to pray; the hard heart melted at the Saviour's feet. He sought forgiveness where it only can be found-at the feet of Jesus. He proved the truth of the words of the Book, "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out."

My beloved young friends, I pray that you may all love God's Book as that little girl did, and so take it, and hide it in your hearts. God grant it for His mercy's sake. Acrostics on the Bible.

MATTHEW POTTS.

MEMOIR.

HE subject of this sketch was born May 26th, 1850, at Hebburn, near Newcastle uponTyne. He lost his parents while very young, and was received by an uncle, with whose family he re

mained until his death. His uncle was a member of the Wesleyan Church, and Matthew had the privilege of religious training. He became a scholar in the United Methodist Free Church Sunday-school, Bede Street, Tyne Dock, in the Shields Circuit. Here he excited the interest of the