powerful, all-pitiful, who would undertake for him and help him to
overcome himself--for he sorely felt how weak he was. Here was a Friend
that could have compassion on the ignorant and them that were out of the
way. The thought brought tears to his eyes and a glow of hope to his
heart. What if He _would_ help him? for deep down in John's heart, worse
than cold or hunger or weariness, was the dreadful conviction that he was
a doomed man, that he should drink again as he had drunk, and never come
to good, but fall lower and lower, and drag all who loved him down with
him.

And was this mighty Saviour given to him?

"Yes," cried the man who was speaking; "to _you;_ to you, who have lost
name and place; to you, that nobody cares for; to you, who have been down
in the gutter. God has sent you a Saviour to take you up out of the mud
and mire, to wash you clean, to give you strength to overcome your sins,
and lead you home to his blessed kingdom. This is the glad tidings of
great joy that the angels brought on the first Christmas day. Christ was
_God's Christmas gift_ to a poor, lost world, and you may have him now,
to-day. He may be your own Saviour--yours as much as if there were no
other one on earth to be saved. He is looking for you to-day, coming
after you, seeking you; he calls you by me. Oh, accept him now!"

There was a deep breathing of suppressed emotion as the speaker sat down,
a pause of solemn stillness.

A faint strain of music was heard, and the singer began singing a
pathetic ballad of a lost sheep and of the Shepherd going forth to seek
it: