treachery and desertion, who knows them all, feels for them all, and
will right them all, in His own good time.

Believing in Jesus, we can travel on, through one wild parish after
another, upon English soil, and see, as I have done, the labourer who
tills the land worse housed than the horse he drives, worse clothed
than the sheep he shears, worse nourished than the hog he feeds--and
yet not despair: for the Prince of sufferers is the labourer's
Saviour; He has tasted hunger, and thirst, and weariness, poverty,
oppression, and neglect; the very tramp who wanders houseless on the
moorside is His brother; in his sufferings the Saviour of the world
has shared, when the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had
nests, while the Son of God had not where to lay His head. He is the
King of the poor, firstborn among many brethren; His tenderness is
Almighty, and for the poor He has prepared deliverance, perhaps in
this world, surely in the world to come--boundless deliverance, out
of the treasures of His boundless love.

Believing in Jesus, we can pass by mines, and factories, and by
dungeons darker and fouler still, in the lanes and alleys of our
great towns and cities, where thousands and tens of thousands of
starving men, and wan women, and children grown old before their
youth, sit toiling and pining in Mammon's prison-house, in worse than
Egyptian bondage, to earn such pay as just keeps the broken heart
within the worn-out body;--ay, we can go through our great cities,
even now, and see the women, whom God intended to be Christian wives
and mothers, the slaves of the rich man's greed by day, the
playthings of his lust by night--and yet not despair; for we can cry,
No! thou proud Mammon, money-making fiend! These are not thine, but
Christ's; they belong to Him who died on the cross; and though thou