find out your brethren, and join with them. See then, you who have been making a stir about what has become of Peter: we have told you where he is. He has joined the church of God, he is going to be baptized, and he is following Christ through evil report and good report. What say you to that?

I will tell you yet further what has become of Peter. He has begun to tell his experience at a church-meeting. Peter did that very soon. He beckoned with his hand, and told them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison. What a delight it is to see a man, who was just now black in the mouth with blasphemy, stand up and bless the Lord for what his grace has done for him. "I should think it strange," says one, "if that ever happened to me." My dear hearer, I should not think it strange, but should bless God for it. God grant it may happen, and that I may hear of it. No experience in the world is so sweet as that of a sinner who has been in captivity to evil, and has been brought out with a high hand and an outstretched arm. An uncommon sinner who has been remarkably converted tells a more than ordinarily encouraging story in our church-meetings, and we delight in such glad tidings. That is what has become of Peter.

And then, lastly, it was not long before Peter was preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And oh! you who have been wondering what has become of some ungodly companions of yours, I should not be surprised if you hear them telling others what God has done for their souls. I should like to have heard John Newton's first sermon after he had been a slave-dealer, with his life full of all manner of villainy, and God had met with him in mercy. Oh, it must have been a sweet sermon, wet with tears. I will be bound to say there were no sleepy hearers. He would talk in a way that would melt others' hearts, because his own was melted. I should like to have heard John Bunyan, though under a hedge, preaching the Gospel of Jesus, while he told what God had done for a drunken tinker, and how he had washed him in the precious blood of Jesus and saved him. Those who know what sin is, and what the Saviour has saved them from, can speak with demonstration of the Spirit, and with power. Peter could say, "I was in prison but I gained my liberty. It was the gift and work of God." He could bear good testimony to what God had done.

I hold up the blood-red standard at this time: I am a recruiting sergeant, and want in God's name to enlist fresh soldiers beneath the standard of the cross. "Whom will you enlist?" says one. "What must their characters be?" They must be guilty; I will have nothing to do with the righteous. The Saviour did not come to save those who are not sinful; he came to save sinners. I looked out of my window last winter, when it had been raining for several months almost incessantly, and I saw a man with a garden-hose watering plants, and I looked at him again and again, and to this moment I cannot understand what he was at : it did seem to me an extraordinary thing that a man should be watering a garden when the garden had been watered by the rain for a hundred days or so with scarcely a pause. Now, I am not going to water you who are already dripping with your own selfrighteousness. Nay, nay, what need have you of grace? Christ did not come to save you good people. You must get to heaven how you

can, on your own account. He has come to wash the filthy and heal the sick. And oh, ye filthy ones, before you I hold up the Gospel banner, and say again, "Who will enlist beneath it?" The great Captain of salvation will take your guilt away, and cast your sins into the depths of the sea, and make you new creatures through his power. "Well," says one, "if I am enlisted and become a new creature, what shall I do?" I will not say what you shall do, but, if the Lord saves you, you will love him so much that nothing will be too hard, or heavy, or difficult for you. You will not need driving, if you once receive his great salvation; you will be for doing more than you can, and you will pray for more grace and strength to attempt yet greater things for his name's sake. A man who has had much forgiven, what will he not attempt for the service and glory of him who has forgiven him! May I be fortunate enough to enlist beneath the Saviour's banner some black offender. That is the man-that is the man for Christ's money. That is the man who will sound out his name more sweetly than anybody else. That is the man who will be afraid of no one. That is the man who will know the power of the Gospel of Christ to a demonstration. Oh that the Lord would bring such among us, for we want them in these days-men who will come right out, without doubt, fear, or quibbling, facing all criticisms, defying all opinions, and saying, "Sinners, Christ can save you, for he saved me. I was a drunkard and a thief, but God has forgiven, and cleansed, and washed me, and I know the power of his salvation." Pray, members of the Church, that both among men and women there may be many such conversions, and that throughout this City of London there may be no small stir "What is become of Peter," and may that stir be to the praise and glory of God.-Amen.

I

Ou Turning Down Corners.

WAS called upon once in my ministerial life to visit a woman who was in great distress of mind. I do not desire to meet with many such as she was. A more forlorn or wretched-looking specimen of humanity it would be hard to find. She had a pale, haggard, careworn countenance, across which, during all my visits to her, there flitted not one ray of hope, not one smile of gladness. She fancied that she had committed the unpardonable sin, although she did not seem to have a very definite idea as to what the nature of that sin was. She thought that there was hope for every one, and an offer of mercy for every one but herself. One day I asked her for her Bible. She handed it to me with a sigh. It was a small Bible, and on turning over the leaves I found it filled with slips of paper and bits of ribbon, which she had put in to mark familiar passages: a great many of the leaves had the corners turned down for the same purpose. I read quite a number of these texts, and found them to be the most terrible threatenings that are contained in the Word of God. There were multitudes of exceedingly great and precious promises, but she did not seem to have touched

one of them; she ignored them altogether. Reading simply the passages she had marked, one would be inclined to think that there was no such thing as sunshine. I took the Bible in my two hands, and shook these bits of paper and pieces of ribbon out of it. I turned up the corners of the leaves, which she had turned down, and then marked for her such passages as these; "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth from all sin." "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." "God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." "He is able to save unto the uttermost all that come unto God by him." "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." "Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely." That Bible of hers was not intended to make her gloomy, and sad, and melancholy; on the other hand, it was intended to be to her the "glad tidings of great joy;" and had she used it aright, it would have been to her an overflowing fountain of comfort and happiness.

Now it seems to me that a great many Christians treat Christianity the same way that the woman treated her Bible: they mark all the gloomy passages they can gather up in the history of the life of faith, and let the bright, cheery ones go. For instance, they find a law in their members warring against the law of their minds and bringing them into captivity to the law of sin which is in their members, and right there they turn down a corner. In another place they find that God is hiding his face from them behind a cloud, and there they turn down. another corner. In another place they find that if they are the children of God they must cleanse themselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, and must perfect holiness in the fear of God. This requires a great deal of self-denial, and they turn down another corner. In another place they find that

"The troubles that afflict the just

In number many be,”

and down goes another corner; and so it is through their whole lives. Some have a corner turned down for every day they live, noting each day's sorrow, and they are continually reading these gloomy passages, and calling them to mind, and talking about them, and meditating on them.

Now I believe this is all wrong. Such representations of Christian life are not truthful. They are one-sided, very much so, and do an immense amount of injury. They are gloomy, fearing, doubting Christians who dwell so much on these dark spots in their history and ignore the sunshine. They hinder their well-being, and instead of growing all over, instead of growing in every grace, they only grow in a few. They are patient Christians-very patient, it may be: they are submissive Christians, very submissive to the will of God; but what about hope, and what about joy? These are the fruits of the Spirit, and ought to thrive as well as the other fruits, and ought to be as carefully tended, so that when the Master comes into his garden he may find his pleasant fruits.

Besides that, these one-sided representations of Christianity have a bad effect on those whom we are trying to win. It is such representations that give point to the charge that is often made by those upon whom we press claims, that religion is a heart-saddening thing. Imagine a man button-holing his friend, and saying, "Come along with me; move down to our country; the fields are full of thorns and thistles and swampy places. It is a splendid place to get chills and fever. There is any amount of sickness. We have an immense hospital, and it is always full." Do you think the man would be inclined to go? That is bad enough. But it is just as bad for a Christian to say to his neighbour, "Come along with me, we have a very sorrowful time of it; we enter the kingdom through much tribulation," and say nothing at all about the joy and the happiness, the sunshine and the flowers. Christianity was not intended to make a man gloomy, and despondent, and melancholy at all. God gave it to us as a thing of joy, to make us happier and gladder at the heart than we were without it. Its whole tendency, when received into the soul, is to make man joyful. A man does not lose, but gains, when he becomes possessed of true religion, for "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come." We who profess it, ought for our own sakes to turn the corners down at its joyous passages, think about them more than we do, and let our light shine, that others may be led to glorify our Father who is in heaven.-United Presbyterian.

A Noble Deaconess.

THE life of the Countess Stolberg presents to our view one of those surprising examples of devotion and self-sacrifice which now and again, as normal outgrowths of Christianity, astonish, if they do not convince the world, of the hidden power of true religion. Her family is among the noblest of Germany. Related to a long line of worthies, including patriots, poets, and soldiers, and directly associated with the court of the good king Frederick William the Fourth, the Countess Anna was enabled, by the grace of God, to turn her back on all that courtiers consider most attractive. Strength was given her to unbend, if the expression be justifiable in such a sense, to the work of instructing the ignorant, and of succouring the needy, which in her case constituted the charm and luxury of life. Both her father and grandfather were exemplary Christians; and the former, besides serving as minister of State, was one of the most valued personal friends of the King. The Countess belonged to a Christian family in the truest sense, and thus from childhood was unconsciously educated to accomplish the life-work which still keeps her name in remembrance.

Reared among the aristocracy of the Prussian court, this daughter of Count Stolberg seems to have experienced even in early life strong desires to sacri fice herself in working for the good of others, and in due course her longing eyes were turned towards "Bethany," a large hospital managed by Deaconesses, and which, as a foundation of Frederick William the Fourth, is situated in an eastern suburb of Berlin. This institution partly owes its origin to Fliedner,

Anna Countess Zu Stolberg Wernigerode; Lady Superintendent of "Bethany" Deaconess House, at Berlin. Translated from the German of Arnold Welmer, by D. M. T. (Strahan and Co.).

the pastor of Kaiserswerth, who had already established one of the same kindthe model of many others in Germany-his aim being to bring into the field as large an array as possible of the forces of Christian womanhood. Hence the King sought this pastor's advice when engaged in completing his own design of "Bethany."

When the Countess Anna's deep piety moved her to take the decisive step of life, the hospital of " Bethany" became her chosen sphere of action. When fully commissioned by her parents giving their consent for their daughter to give herself entirely to a work beloved, the candidate's joy was singularly great. Human nature so commonly strives after what is honourable and pleasant, that when one of high rank voluntarily resigns the ease and advantages of birth through love to mankind, we stand still in admiration while noting how Christ still works on earth by means of chosen agents. While a probationer in the hospital wards, this really noble woman unreservedly placed herself on a level with others of low birth, who now became her daily companions. "Scarcely a quarter of a room could the young probationer, the daughter of a distinguished nobleman, henceforth call her own-her restingplace. Not even a tiny chamber, only one of the compartments ranged round the walls of the large probationers' ward. White curtains walled in the little territory, that had hardly space for a pine bedstead with green and white striped hangings, a chair, and a table. The mistress of the probationers slept with them, as she superintended their general duties and their training in sick nursing. And here the high-born Countess slept next the daughter of a poor day labourer, for perfect equality in Christ was the principle carried out,"

Instead of growing disgusted or losing heart by the menial drudgery, the need and the suffering of "Bethany," these associations of the place apparently inspired the noble volunteer with purer devotion, while they urged her on to the goal of complete self-sacrifice. Though not ambitious she was destined to rise to the highest office of her profession; for when the lady superintendent died in 1855, the Countess was unanimously chosen to fill this still more arduous office. Nor could she rest satisfied while confining her efforts to one place. Wherever in the neighbourhood around there was poverty or misery, Anna would be found to afford aid and sympathy to the extent of her power. Her private fortune must have been considerable, but the whole amount was often insufficient to meet the demands of her charitable spirit.

During the wars which desolated the Continent in the opening of this century, an ancient order, the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem, was abolished by the King; but in subsequent years the privileges of the clan were restored, and Eberhard, a brother of the Countess Anna, became a most active member of the society. In olden times the aims and purposes of these Johanniters may have been of a questionable nature; they were trained to excel in deeds of daring, and fought to wrest the Holy City and Sepulchre from the hands of the Infidels; but now they engaged in work more in keeping with the profession of Christianity than were the chivalrous deeds of their fathers. In the late war between Germany and Denmark they did much heroic service in attending to the sick and wounded, as also did the Countess and her deaconesses, who visited the seat of war.

Though the institution at "Bethany " was entirely controlled by the Countess Anna, and grew in power and usefulness under her wise administration, her philanthropic efforts were not confined to any area. Wherever disease or misfortune was making havoc, thither was this good angel prepared to go at any expense of money or fatigue. In 1867 the wet harvest-time of East Prussia was followed by destitution bordering on famine in some districts, and this produced an alarming outbreak of fever. On hearing of the poor people's distress, Anna and a couple of deaconesses hastened to the village of Rhein. "They found forty typhus cases in the temporary hospital of the Johanniters, all crowded into two rooms, one for men, the other for women and children. Two and three patients lay in each bed, most of them only on straw, hardly covered