justly accused and condemned; but do Thou forgive them this sin."

This prayer was greeted with scornful laughter by the men on whose behalf it was offered. They heaped upon him reproaches of every kind, and denounced him as a second Judas. He bore all with the utmost meekness, saying, "I place all my confidence and hope in God my Saviour. I know that He will not take from me the cup of salvation; but by His grace I shall drink it to-day in His kingdom." So it proved. He was led forth to the stake, and there breathed his last in words of prayer and praise.

JOHN HUS THE MARTYR. ONSTANCE Owes its fame to the great council which met here A.D. 1414, at which one hundred thousand persons are said to have assembled. John Hus, summoned before this council to answer the charge of heresy, manfully declared his faith in Jesus, and sealed his testimony with his blood. was confined in a dark and loathsome dungeon under the Dominican convent on the shore of the lake. The walls of his cell were saturated with water, which stood in pools on the floor. Only for a short period of each day was he able to read, when a ray of light struggled through an aperture in the roof of his prison. The rest of his time was passed in almost total darkness.

History records few more touching scenes than that when Hus, condemned to die, fell upon his knees, like Stephen, the protomartyr, and prayed, "O Lord God, I beseech Thee, for Thy mercy's sake, to pardon all my enemies. Thou knowest that I have been un

The house in which he lodged, the minster in which he was tried, the spot where the stake was fixed, and that at which his ashes were cast into the Rhine, are still pointed out. A mass of rock, upon which his name is inscribed, near the site of his martyrdom, forms a fitting monument to his memory.

ALBERT THE GOOD.

HE PRINCE CONSORT was born August 26, 1819, at the Castle of Rosenau, in Saxony. The foundations of his scholarship and scientific knowledge were laid in his early training by private tutors, and afterwards at the celebrated University of Bonn. After his marriage with the Queen, his public life became familiar to the whole nation, but a few of his private traits may not be without interest.

The anxious care of the Prince for the religious training of his own family was apparent to all who had opportunity of witnessing the arrangements of the royal household. The efforts of recent years for the religious education of the poorest classes had his warmest sympathy, and various instances we know of his generous beneficence in placing money at the disposal of clergymen and others labouring in poor districts, with no other condition than that the name of the donor might be concealed. In some cases special provision was made for the diffusion of knowledge of a directly spiritual and evangelical bearing; and many books of this kind were distributed among his own dependants and the poor in the neighbourhood of his residences. These quiet and unostentatious deeds of benevolence are indications of character as grateful now as the more conspicuous virtues of his public life.

In the progress and success of Christian missions the Prince felt a warm interest. That he should take a lively

interest in the heroic labours of such a man as Dr. Livingstone, might be of course expected, but his sympathy was equally extended to humbler workers in the mission field. When Dr. Krapf arrived in England, after long and comparatively unknown service in Eastern Africa, he was cheered by a generous welcome at the palace, and special permission was given to dedicate to the Prince the narrative of his missionary work.

The love of the Prince for the sacred Scriptures has been frequently mentioned, and we have heard various anecdotes of his bringing the influence of the Bible to bear on domestic and family arrangements. One incident may be new to our readers. The Prince, having sent to the British Museum to borrow a copy of Martin Luther's Bible, a messenger was sent with it to the palace, and shown into a room where he saw the Queen and his Royal Highness engaged in the study of the Bible. The Prince, opening Luther's Bible, referred to a passage, which had been the subject of investigation,

and expressed his great satisfaction in finding his views supported by the text of Luther's Bible.

At the top of the Queen's staircase, in the private apartments at Windsor, there is a beautifully-executed statue from the studio of Baron Triqueti-a prominent and distinguished man among the French Protestants. It represents the boy-king, Edward VI., marking with his sceptre a passage in the Bible which he holds in his left hand, and upon which he intently looks. A closer inspection discovers the following text upon the open page: "Josiah was eight years old when he began to reign, and he reigned thirty and one years in Jerusalem. And he did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, and walked in all the way of David his father, and turned not aside to the right hand or to the left." This statue was executed by the desire of the late Prince Consort, who intended it to convey to his son a constant and most significant suggestion of the Divine rule by which the future sovereign of England should fashion his heart and life.

The happy choice of the motto on the façade of the Royal Exchange, "The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof," was due to the Prince, who has thereby left a lesson worthy of being laid to heart in the great centre of the world's wealth and commerce.

It was characteristic of the Prince Consort that he contemplated the prospect of death with an equanimity by no means common in men of his years. This was owing to no indifference or distaste for life. He enjoyed it, and was happy and cheer

ful in his work, in his family circle, in loving thoughtfulness for others, and in the sweet returns of affection which this brought back to himself. But he had none of the strong yearning for life and fulness of years which is felt by those who shrink from looking beyond "the warm precincts of the genial day" into a strange and uncertain future. He had no wish to die, but he did not care for living.

Not long before his fatal illness, in speaking to the Queen, he said, "I do not cling to life. You do; but I set no store by it. If I knew that those I love were well cared for, I should be quite ready to die to

morrow."

In the same conversation, he added, "I am sure, if I had a severe illness, I should give up at once ; I should not struggle for life. I have no tenacity of life." This was said without a trace of sadness; he was content to stay, if such were Heaven's will; he was equally ready to go hence, should that will be otherwise.

"This spirit," the Queen writes in 1862, "this

beautiful, cheerful spirit it was, which made him always happy, always contented, though he felt so deeply and so acutely when others did wrong, and when people did not do their duty; it was this power he had of taking interest in everything, attending to everything, which prompted those blessed feelings about eternity. He was ready to live, ready to die, 'not because I wish to be happier,' as he often remarked, but because he was quite ready to go. He did not do what was right for the sake of a reward hereafter, but, as he always said, 'because it was right.'"

BE UP AND DOING.

TRIBE of American Indians sent an earnest entreaty to a mission station six hundred miles distant, to send them a teacher to instruct them in the knowledge of the true God. The missionaries were obliged to refuse. They could scarcely keep up their own station with the staff of men and the means at their disposal. Six times the same message was returned, though with the deepest sorrow that English Christians had not sent them men enough or money enough to grant the application.

At last fresh help came from England, and a teacher was sent. But it was now too late. The tribe had engaged in war, their angry passions were excited, and all desire for Christian instruction had passed away. The teacher returned, bitterly grieving that the door was closed, and that it was now impossible to proclaim to them the message of the Gospel.

Let us learn the lesson. Be up and doing at once. There are but twelve hours in the day, then cometh the night, when no man can work. The work may be taken from us, or we may be laid aside from the work. Therefore let us throw heart and soul into our Master's service. Let us give freely and pray instantly. Let us refuse no call which He gives us. Let us yield up ourselves and all we have to be used for Him. Every soul is unspeakably precious. Men and women are rapidly passing into eternity. Many know not the joyful sound, and are perishing for lack of knowledge. Christ is ready to bless the weakest testimony which is given in His name. Therefore let us go forth, believing in His power and help. Let us remember that "the time is short," the warfare great, and fight manfully for the kingdom of Christ.

I HEARD SINGING TO-NIGHT. 'LL tell you what, I heard singing to-night that made me wish I was in heaven, or good enough to go there," said an old backwoodsman to his wife, as entering their log hut he sat down to his (vening meal.

"Where did you hear it?" she asked.

"At our neighbour's up yonder. They must feel something I don't know of, or they couldn't sing so."

"When they first came here," said the wife, "I thought they were proud and stiff; but they are real good neighbours, and good church folks too."

"Well," said he, "I mean to go to church to-morrow, and see if I can't hear some singing like that."

The singer knew that her neighbours were ignorant, rough, and unbelieving, nearing the decline of life, and unwilling to be approached on the subject of religion. The old wife especially was so nearly a heathen, that she would never enter a church, never allow the visit of a minister, nor listen to the reading of God's Word or even to the singing of a hymn. The man was a day-labourer, who had ruined his worldly affairs by indulgence in strong drink, but had been lifted out of the pit, and been sober for many years. Still he was a rough, swearing man, and his heart unsoftened by any religious influence.

One glorious summer evening, as the sun was going down, the lady seated herself at the door, and involuntarily began to sing Mrs. Hemans' sweet vesper song, "Come to the sunset tree." She felt the spirit of the heavenly words, and sang with fervour. When near the close of the hymn, she cast her eyes to the field where her neighbour was at work, and saw that he was listening intently. Instantly the thought flashed into her mind, "Oh, if I could raise that poor man to think of heaven." She closed her refrain, and then commenced, "On Jordan's stormy banks I stand," singing it "with the spirit and the understanding also." The firmament above her foreshadowed the glories of that state described by the hymn, and the beauty of the green earth reminded her of the pastures above where the redeemed are walking by the river of life.

And as she sang, the old man listened, almost spellbound. The singer did not wish to call forth admiration of her full-toned voice; she wished to glorify God by leading one of His creatures to think of Him.

"I will sing God's praises whenever he can hear me, and perhaps he may be led to praise the Lord Himself," was her mental resolve.

The next Sabbath the old man was at church. This cheered the lady, and she said, "I will sing whenever he comes." Ere another week was closed he was at work again. This time she sang,

"Just as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy blood was shed for me." Slowly, distinctly, she sang, that he might take in the full meaning of the words; and feeling their sweet. pathos in her inmost soul, she poured out all the hymn. The listener shook his head, and rubbed his hand quickly over his eyes.

The next Sabbath evening he was found among the people of God, earnestly inquiring for the way of salvation. The singer had sowed seed, and earnestly asked the Lord to make him one of His own children. It may be that other influences led him to the House of God, and to think of his soul, but certainly God had blessed the voice of music as one of His instruments.

Seeking further to do good, the lady encouraged his poor ignorant wife in many friendly ways, and one day

invited her into the parlour to hear her piano. She had never seen nor heard such an instrument, and was wonderstruck The lady called her daughters to her side, and all joined in singing, "All hail the power of Jesu's name," to the old tune Coronation.

"Do you like that?" said the lady.

"Oh, it's nice. I b'lieve I heered that tune somewhere when I was a gal, but I've forgot."

"Probably you heard it at church. It is often sung there. We cannot sing the praises of Jesus too often, for He came to save us poor sinners." Then they all sang, "Come, humble sinner, in whose breast," etc. The woman rose and said she must go, and was invited to come again.

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Oh, I'll come often, if I can hear you sing." "Mother," said her eldest girl, "you take a strange way to win souls; do you think you will succeed?"

"Why not, my daughter? Has not God commanded that whatsoever we do, should be done to His glory? And if He has given us voices to sing, should we not use them in His service? There are many ears who will listen to a hymn for the sake of the tune, who will not hear a word from the Bible. Our voices and our musical instruments should all be employed in winning lost souls."

THE LOST SHEEP. READ LUKE XV. 1-10.

HIS parable was spoken by our Lord in reply to the Pharisees and Scribes. All the publicans and sinners had drawn near to hear Him, and the Pharisees and Scribes murmured against Him because He let them do so. "This man," said they, "receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." The parable was His answer. It is a double one, setting forth the same truth under two different figures. The man in the one case, and the woman in the other, mean our Lord Himself. The lost sheep, and the lost piece of money, mean a sinner.

The sheep wanders from the fold and the shepherd, the sinner wanders from God and His ways. The sheep is in great danger, and will be lost if not brought back, yet it probably wanders heedlessly farther and farther. The sinner, too, is in danger-awful dangerand will be lost for ever, if he do not come back to God. He does not feel his danger. The path he has chosen for himself pleases him more than the way of God. He does not see-at least, he does not trouble himself to think-whither it leads. Enough for him, that it is, as he thinks, a pleasant path. He has no wish to return; nay, he cannot return of himself. He must be sought if ever he is to be saved.

In the parable, the man did not leave off his search for the sheep till he found it, the woman also went on sweeping the house till the piece of money appeared.

No pains or trouble was spared. Both persevered till that which was lost was found. In like manner has the Lord dealt with those who are now brought home to God, but who were once wanderers in the paths of sin. It was not once only that He sent them a message of love and mercy. Long were they sought, many and various were the means used. Many a time did He call, and they refused. It was only perhaps after years of gracious waiting, and repeated invitations, that the wanderers were brought home, and the lost found.

In the parable, there was joy when the sheep was brought back, joy when the money was found. Likewise, our Lord tells us, there is joy in heaven, "joy in the presence of the angels of God, over one sinner that repenteth." Nothing can show more strongly the value of even one soul in the sight of God. Picture the case of a sinner brought to repentance; such as may happen any day.

a common case,

A poor working man, living, it may be, in some low court in a great town, or in a humble cottage in a country place, unknown beyond the little circle of his own workmates and neighbours, has long lived in neglect of his soul; not a gross sinner perhaps, nor worse than most of those around him, but without God: this man, by some means, is brought to care for his soul, to repent of his sins, and to seek Christ-in other words, he becomes a Christian man. Very few people care for the change, or even know of it. The minister may thank God for it on bended knee, the man's wife and children may be the happier for it (as they certainly will), and his workmates and neighbours may take notice of the alteration, and some of them may perhaps wonder what has come over the man, and think the change not a change for the better. But meanwhile there is joy in heaven! joy in the presence of the angels of God! joy on account of that poor man! Because he has been found at length, because his heart is changed, because he has repented and turned to God. It seems but a small thing to man, but it is not counted a small thing in heaven. Even in that happy place, where all is joy, the angels rejoice anew because this one sinner has been brought to repentance.

Has there been joy for you? Have you been brought to this repentance, this change of heart? Have you even learnt that by nature you are lost? See how precious one soul is in the sight of God; your soul is thus precious. See how the Saviour seeks the lost. Has He not sought you? Has He not sought you again and again? Think of the joy in heaven! Such joy may be felt for you; nay, certainly will be felt, if you repent. Your soul is not uncared for above. The Lord Jesus Christ seeks it, and angels would rejoice at its salvation. Wandering from God can only end in ruin; come back at the Saviour's call! It is grievous that talents, which God gave to be used for His glory, should be all useless and wasted, like the lost piece of silver. Awake to a sense of what you owe to God, and of the account you must one day give to Him. It is not yet too late. You may yet turn to Christ; you may even now do God service.

"OH! SO BRIGHT!"

a small, dark room, in a closely built-up alley in one of the lowest parts of London, lay a sick man. The room had very little furniture; it consisted of two or three broken chairs, a small table, and a bed in one corner. Upon a few red cinders in the grate the man's eyes were fixed.

He was but young; and as he lay there thinking of his own fast-departing life, of his loving wife and little children, and what they would do for a livelihood when he was gone, his heart sank within him, and he turned away and wept.

Presently he heard a sweet childish voice coming singing up the stairs, and as it came nearer he caught the words, "Oh, so bright! oh, so bright!"

"What can it be that is so bright ?" thought the sick man; "all here is dull and dark enough; what

can the child mean is 'so bright'?"

"Yes,

"Well, Mary, was that you singing?" father; it's one of the hymns we learn at school." "And what is so bright that you must be singing it over so often?" "Oh, father, don't you know? it's the better land. Shall I sing it all to you?"

And again the sweet voice began,—

"There is a better world, they say,
Oh, so bright!

Where sin and woe are done away,

Oh, so bright!

And music fills the balmy air,

And angels with bright wings are there,
And harps of gold, and mansions fair,
Oh, so bright!"

"Sin and woe are done away,'" mused the sick "Who gets there, I wonder?" The singing was

man.

gone, and no more a burden to you."

"Hush, hush, James!" his wife replied, with tears in her eyes. "I shouldn't care for anything if you

was to go, lad." "Father," said the little one, who had been thinking of his last words, "some one cares; our teacher taught us to-day, 'He careth for you.'"

"Who cares, Mary?" "I think it is God," the child replied, with a thoughtful look. "Teacher says He loves us and cares for us always."

And the poor man learned on his sick bed the wondrous truth, that "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

From "THE BROKEN CLOTHES-LINE," a capital book for working people.