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who it was. "Well, it isn't necessary to tell who it is, but I never go without him." They began to mistrust me. "Who is it ?" they again inquired. "Well, I'll come with him and if I see anything wrong I'll ask him to forgive you." Come," said they, "We don't want any praying." "You've given me an invitation, and I am coming." "But if you come you needn't pray." Well," said I, "I'll tell you what we'll do, we'll compromise the matter, and if you don't wan't me to come and pray for you then, let me pray for both of you now," which they agreed to. It turned out that one of them had a praying mother, and the prayer touched his heart, and the other had a mother in heaven. I asked God to bless their souls, and just to break their business to pieces. In a few months their business did go all to pieces. The man who got up in the prayer-meeting told me a story that touched my soul. He said with his business he hadn't prospered-he failed and went away to the Rocky Mountains. Life became a burden to him and he made up his mind that he would go to some part of the mountains and put an end to his days. He took a knife with him which he proposed driving into his heart. He sought a part of the mountains to kill himself. He had the knife ready to plunge into his heart, when he heard a voice-it was the voice of his mother. He remembered her words when she was dying, even though he was a boy then. He heard her say, "Johnny, if ever you get into trouble, pray to God." That knife dropped from his hand, and he asked God to be merciful to him. He was accepted, and he came back to Chicago and lifted up his voice for Him. He may be in this tabernacle to-night. Just the moment he cried for mercy he got it. If you only cry, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner," He will hear you. Is there anything to hinder you from doing this to-night: is there anything to hinder any man, woman, or child in this hall to-night from sending up this prayer. What a glorious thing it would be if every soul in this hall would but lift up their hearts with prayer God, be merciful to me, a sinner."

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Now, a man asked me the other day, "How is it that a man who has lived an ungodly life can come in here and be saved all at once?" Why, God so loves the sinner that He is willing to give them salvation instantly-He wants to save every one now in Chicago. The trouble is that we don't want God to be merciful; we don't want His forgiveness. God is full of compassion and love. It is the spirit of the devil that makes you believe the sins committed during the past twenty years cannot be forgiven to-night. My friends, won't you try Him? But I will take you who believe this way, upon your own ground. Here is a father down here. He is full of self-righteousness; he is a Pharisee.

He has a boy whom he has not seen for twenty years. Well, as he goes home to-night his servants tell him, "Your absent son has returned." "What !" he exclaims, "my absent boy Johnny here-in this house?" "Yes, he is down in the kitchen; we wanted him to go into the parlor, but he wouldn't; he said the kitchen was good enough for him." He tells those servants to take him to his son, and for a moment the boy looks at him, "Father, father," he cries, "I have been bad; I haven't done a good act in twenty years; I have been very unkind to you; but, father, won't you forgive me?" Say, father wouldn't you forgive him? Wouldn't you? I would like to see a man in Chicago who would not. I can give you a little experience of my own family. Before I was four years old the first thing I remember was the death of my father. He had been unfortunate in business and failed. Soon after his death the creditors came in and took everything. My mother was left with a large family of children. One calamity after another swept over the entire household. Twins were added to the family and my mother was taken sick. The eldest boy was fifteen years of age, and to him my mother looked as a stay in her calamity, but all at once that boy became a wanderer. He had been reading some of the trashy novels, and the belief had seized him that he had only to go away and make a fortune. Away he went. I can remember how eagerly she used to look for tidings of that boy; she used to send us to the post-office to see if there was a letter from him, and recollect how we used to come back with the sad news, "No letter." I remember how in the evenings we would sit beside her in that New England home, and we would talk about our father; but the moment the name of that boy was mentioned she would hush us into silence. Some nights when the wind was very high, and the house, which was upon a hill, would tremble at every gush, the voice of my mother was raised in prayer for that wanderer who had treated her so unkindly. I used to think she loved him more than all the rest put together, and I believe she did. On a Thanksgiving day-you know that is a family day in New England-she used to set a chair for him, thinking he would return home. Her family grew up, and her boys left home. When I got so that I could write, I sent letters all over the country, but could find no trace of him. One day while in Boston the news reached me that he had returned. While in that city I remember how I used to look for him in every store-he had a mark on his face-but I never got any trace. One day while my mother was sitting at the door, a stranger was seen coming toward the house, and when he came to the door he stopped. My mother didn't know her boy. He stood there with folded arms, and a great beard flowing down

his breast, his tears trickling down his face. When my mother saw those tears she cried "Oh, it's my lost son," and entreated him to come in. But, he stood still. "No, mother," he said, "I will not come in till I hear first you have forgiven me." Do you believe she was not willing to forgive him? Do you think she was likely to keep him long standing there? She rushed to the threshold and threw her arms around him, and breathed forgiveness. Ah, sinner, if you but ask God to be merciful to you, a sinner, ask Him for forgiveness, although your life has been bad-ask Him for mercy, and He will not keep you long waiting for an answer. May that be the cry of every lost soul in this Tabernacle to-night. "God be merciful to me, a sinner." Now, do you want to have mercy? Say, young man, will you ask Him to-night? Young lady, will this be your cry to-night: "God be merciful to me, a sinner ?" May the love of God break every obdurate heart here to-night, and may this be the cry of every sinner. Don't have so much pride, don't have the spirit of the Pharisee-that's the spirit that keeps you from entering the inquiry-room and coming to the God of love, the God of compassion, the God of mercy, of peace, of joy, of everlasting happiness. Let every man and woman in this assemblage out of Christ take the place of this publican and go into the inquiryroom. Let us pray.

"The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law." I. Cor. xv. 56.

O FOR an overcoming faith

To cheer my dying hours;
To triumph o'er the monster death,
And all his frightful pow'rs!

Joyful with all the strength I have
My quiv'ring lips shall sing,
Where is thy boasted vict'ry, grave?
And where the monster's sting?

If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure;
Death has no sting beside :

The law gives sin its damning pow'r;

But Christ, my ransom, died.

Now to the God of victory

Immortal thanks be paid,

Who makes us conqu'rors while we die,

Through Christ our living head.

Address to Business Men.

He

WANT to call your attention for a few minutes this evening to this man that the Saviour has brought before us in this portion of Scripture. You will see by reading it that he was what we would call now-a-days a successful business man-a man that many parents would hold up to their sons as a model. I don't think he was a drinking man; there's nothing in the story that would lead us to suppose he was. hadn't made his money in getting up corners on grain; he didn't get it by any acts of usury by which he drew twenty per cent.; he didn't get it by making a corner on gold or getting up a Black Friday; he didn't make his money by betting on election or buying stocks, but he got it lawfully. No doubt he was a moralist; certainly there is nothing in what we have read tonight against his character. That was not his fault. He didn't rent his property for billiard hall, for liquor saloons, or to harlots; he was a farmer. I don't know of a more lawful occupation than that of a farmer. He was a successful man. I don't believe he ever compromised with his creditors by paying 50 cents on the dollar when he could pay 100. He didn't get his money that way. He didn't get it by shaving notes, or by taking advantage of the widow and orphan, or those who were poor, but he got it lawfully. He was an upright man. I presume if he was here we would send him to Congress, or if we could not send him to Congress we would make him Mayor. He was a thoroughly good business man, who payed all he promised to pay. He was what we would call a shrewd man-a long-headed man, just deluged with business, and, undoubtedly, if you had spoken to him about his soul's welfare he would have turned to Scripture and said, "be not slothful in business." Business must be attended to first; that's what Scripture teaches. And I think that Chicago men have got as far as that in Scripture, and there they stop. A man came out here from the East, and a minister asked him to preach in his pulpit, and he picked out the text "not slothful in business," but went on further. "Why," said the minister to him, "don't you know that all Chicago have got that down in their soul; why don't

you preach upon the whole of the text, and not a part ?" "Not slothful in business," Chicago don't want that kind of preaching. He forgot the rest—“fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." This man was earnest with business. He had got off that part of the text. Undoubtedly he moved in the best society of his time. He had the best turn-out in that part of the country. He had the best farm in that section of the country, and the best horses and cattle. If he had been living to-day, probably he would have had the best short-horn cattle and the very finest wool sheep. He had the very best undoubtedly, in his time, and had been called a great success. No doubt in those days they had revival meetings, of course they had, because one of the greatest revivals that ever took place occurred in those days under John the Baptist. Perhaps it took place near his farm, but he could not leave his business to attend it. Great multitudes flocked past his house from early morn till late at night on their way to the banks of the Jordan to hear the greatest revivalist that ever lived, except Jesus Christ. But he didn't leave his business to go; he probably thought they were fanatics. The idea of a business man turning from his legitimate business, from his merchandise-should waste his time to hear that preacher. No doubt he belonged to the synagogue. He believed in set doctrines and walked accordingly. He would not hear of those innovations. The idea of spending his time in going to listen to a man who was clothed with a leather girdle and fed on locusts and wild honey! No, sir; he wouldn't hear him. Undoubtedly Jesus and His apostles passed by that way, and he might have one night entertained Him. Perhaps he had heard about the dead being raised by this man as these drunkards are being raised in Chicago to-day-men who are being lifted from sin and degradation and a new song put into their mouth. Like a great many of these business men to-day, perhaps he said: "Oh, it's only a nine days' wonder, and the excitement will be gone soon." Christ came and went, but he was so pressed with business that he hadn't time to attend to what that heavenly preacher said. He hadn't time to go to those meetings on the banks of the Jordan. So it is with men to-day. They haven't time to look into this great question of Jesus Christ. They have heard of Him, but can't stop to see how He came, why He came, or what He has done? Business is so pressing. Undoubtedly he had the very best wine there was in the land, and it was always on his table, although he wasn't a drunkard. He had the very best fruit, the very best fish and game upon his table. The very best material he wore-perhaps he sent all the way down to Egypt to buy clothing for his wife and daughters. His turn-out was the most stylish-probably he was often seen with