certain place where I was, two or three ladies were talking about the Bible. One lady said to another: "I saw some of my friends reading the Bible, and they were looking so glum and melancholy." Turning round to me she said: "I don't think people should be melancholy when they read the Bible; do you, Mr. Moody ?" "Well," I replied, "it depends upon the kind of people who read the Bible; if they are unsaved sinners they will." "But," she asked, "tell me why." "Because that book is the death-warrant of an unsaved sinner; but if a man knows that he is lost, that he is guilty and condemned, and he comes to the Saviour, then the Bible is not a death-warrant." It is a reprieve it is a pardon-it is good news, glad tidings, and every man here to-night who is unsaved, ought to be sad when he reads his death-warrant; and that is the reason why people unsaved do not like to read this book. When we believe, we hear the good news that comes to us in the cry from Calvary : "It is finished!" That is the news. "It is finished!" That is not bad news-that is not our death-warrant-that is my pardon that is my peace-my justification. Jesus finished that work, and He finished that work for me. It is good news and glad tidings to the sinner, and there is not a little child in this hall to-night but can understand it, if they take it as God gives it in this book. It is not long ago, it just seems the other day, when my dear friend Dr. Mathieson, now in heaven, told me he was preaching the Gospel in Scotland, and a minister told him he had in his congregation a little idiot boy. He did not know what to do with him; he had spoken to him many times, but the boy always said: "Ye maun wait till a' come to ye, and when a' come I'll sing ye a sang an' tell ye a story; but ye maun wait till a' come to ye." The minister heard that the boy was dying, and he went to him and said: "Sandy, you promised me that you would sing me a song and tell me a story before you died; will you tell it now ?" Yes, minister," replied the boy-"Three in ane an' ane in three, an' Jesus Christ died for me; that's a'." "Three in one and one in three, and Jesus Christ he died for me." I tell you I would rather be a poor idiot and know that than be one of the mightiest and so-called wisest men in the city of Chicago, and not believe that Jesus took my place and died for me on Calvary's cross. That gospel's very simple; it is very easy to understand. Here am I, a poor sinner, and God has said, "The soul that sinneth shall die;" but God so loved that sinner that He don't want him to die. He had a Son whom He sent from heaven to Calvary to die on that cross on purpose to put away our sin. Now I be lieve, and my sins are put away, and I am saved. Do you want to be saved to-night? Jesus' blood was shed for you; He put 66 away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. What must I do to be saved? Believe. How can believing save me? Jesus died to save. It is not my believing that puts away my sin; it is my belief that accepts Christ as my Saviour, and the moment I believe on Him, I know that eighteen hundred years ago He bled and died on purpose to give me everlasting life. How can I know that I can be saved to-night? That dear young man in the gallery yonder-"Can I know I can be saved to-night ?" Yes. That dear mother over there-"Can I know I can be saved to-night?" Yes. That dear father here-"Can I know I can be saved to-night ?" Yes, before you leave your seat and go into the inquiry-room, if you believe He took your place and sent the message to you. On thanksgiving night there was a young lady in the inquiry-room, who came to me, "Oh," said she, "will you tell me what you mean by knowing that you are saved?" She said she was a member of a church and loved the Saviour, but didn't know that she was saved. "Will you come and sit down here, and open your Bible at the fifth chapter of St. John, and read the twenty-fourth verse ?" She turned and read: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my word and believeth in Him that sent me "-" Now, I spell the next word, 'H-a-t-h.'” "That's not hope," I said, "That's hath;" and she turned to me, a smile lighting up her face through her tears, and said: "That is to have everlasting life." Are you saved now?" I asked. "Yes." "How do you know ?" "Because," she replied, "I said so; that is how I know." We tell you to-night, in the Master's name, you can be saved here if you are guilty—if you have nothing to give to God—for He came to preach the Gospel to the poor. Some of you say, "Mustn't I repent for a week or two-must I not try and get some of the sin taken from me, and then go to the Lord, and when He sees I desire to be better it will be easier?" My friends, you can improve yourselves. He wants to take you just as you are. When I was holding meetings a little time ago at Wharnecliffe, in England, a coal district, a great burly collier came up to me and said in his Yorkshire dialect, "Dost know wha was at metin' t'night ?" "No," I answered. "Why," said he "Soand-so" (mentioning name). The name was a familiar one. He was a very bad man, one of the wildest, wickedest men in Yorkshire, according to his own confession, and according to the confession of everybody who knew him. "Weel," said the man, "he cam' into t' meetin' an' said you didn't preach right; he said thou preached nothin' but love o' Christ, an' that won't do for drunken colliers; ye want t' shake 'em over a pit, an' he says he'll ne'er come again." He thought I didn't preach about hell. Mark you, my friends, I believe in eternal damnation; Í believe in the pit that burns, in the fire that's never quenched, in the worm that never dies, but I believe that the magnet that goes down to the bottom of the pit is the love of Jesus. I didn't expect to see him again, but he came the next night, without washing his face, right from the pit, with all his working clothes upon him. This drunken collier sat down on one of the seats that were used for the children, and got as near to me as pos sible. The sermon was love from first to last. He listened at first attentively, but by-and-by I saw him with the sleeve of his rough coat, wiping his eyes. Soon after we had an inquiry meeting, when some of those praying colliers got around him, and it wasn't long before he was crying, "O, Lord, save me; I am lost; Jesus have mercy upon me;" and that night he left the meeting a new creature. His wife told me herself, what occurred when he came home. His little children heard him coming along-they knew the step of his heavy clogs-and ran to their mother in terror, clinging to her skirts. He opened the door as gently as could be. He had had a habit of banging the door. My friends, if a man becomes converted, it will even make a difference in the slamming of doors. When he came into the house and saw the children clinging to their mother, frightened, he just stooped down and picked up the youngest girl in his arms, and looked at her, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Mary, Mary, God has sent thy father home to thee," and kissed her. He picked up another, "God has sent thy father home," and from one to another he went, and kissed them all, and then came to his wife and put his arms around her neck, "Don't cry, lass; don't cry. God has sent thy husband home at last; don't cry," and all she could do was to put her arms around his neck and sob. And then he said: "Have you got a Bible in the house, lass?" They hadn't such a thing. Well, lass, if we haven't, we must pray." They got down on their knees, and all he could say was: 66 "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, for Jesus Christ's sake, amen." It was a simple prayer, but God answered it. While I was at Barnet some time after that, a friend came to me and said: “I've got good news for you. Soand-so (mentioning the collier's name) is preaching the gospel everywhere he goes-in the pit, and out of the pit, and tries to win everybody to the Lord Jesus Christ." O, brother and sister, won't you trust the Saviour to-night? Dear mo ther and father, won't you believe the gospel-won't you rest upon that finished work; won't you give up your doings and strivings, and just like a little child rest upon that Saviour? Believe the glorious gospel, and have everlasting life. May God bless you all, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. "And they came to Him, and awoke Him, saying, Master, Master, we perish. Then He arose, and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water: and they ceased, and there was a calm."-Luke viii., 24. JESUS! lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly, Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee; With the shadow of thy wing. Thou, O Christ, art all I want; I am all unrighteousness! Vile, and full of sin, I am; Thou art full of truth and grace. Plenteous grace with thee is found, Q The Life of Lot. AM going to select for my subject to-night, "The Life of Lot." One reason why I take up this character is because I believe he is a representative man, and perhaps there is no Bible character that represents so many Chicago men at the present day as Lot of Sodom. Where you can find one Abraham, or one Daniel, or one Joshua, you can find a thousand Lots. He started very well; he got rich, and that was the beginning of his troubles. He and Abraham, his uncle, went down to Egypt, and they came out of Egypt with great wealth, and the next thing we hear of is strife among their herdsmen. He could not get up a quarrel with Abraham. Abraham said to him, "You are my nephew, and I cannot quarrel with you; but take your goods and go to the right, and I will go to the left, or I will go to the right and you go to the left;" and they separated. Right here Lot made his mistake. He should have said, "No; I don't want to leave you, the Lord has blessed me with you, and I don't want to leave you ;" or, if he had been determined to leave his uncle, he should have asked Abraham to choose for him. Instead of that he lifted up his eyes and saw the well-watered plains of Sodom, and that decided him. No doubt he was very ambitious; he probably wanted to become richer. Perhaps there was a little spirit of rivalry toward his uncle. He wanted to excel Abraham in worldly goods, to become rich faster. So he saw and determined upon the wellwatered plains of Sodom. If he had asked Abraham he would not have gone there. If he had asked God, Lot would never have entered Sodom; no man ever goes into Sodom by God's advice. He determined himself, and pitched his tent toward Sodom. I don't know how long he lived on these well-watered plains, but no doubt the men of those days said of him when he had settled down: "There is a shrewd man; he's a smart man. Why, I can predict that in a very short time he will be a wealthier man than his uncle Abraham. Look at these well-watered plains why he is a great deal better off than Abraham now." He is in a position in which he can soon become rich. How long he remained on these plains I don't know, but the next thing we know is that he got into Sodom. We are told that |