rgyman gave out his text. It
was from Revelation 7:14, 15: "These are they which came out of great
tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the
blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God."

"To-night," said the clergyman, "I am to speak of 'Home, sweet Home,'
and of those that dwell there, the great multitude of the redeemed. It
is a very holy place, there is no speck on the golden pavement, no evil
to be found within the city. The tempter can never enter there, sin is
unknown; all is very, very holy. And on the white robes of those who
dwell there is no stain; pure and clean and spotless, bright and fair as
light, are those robes of theirs. Nothing to soil them, nothing to spoil
their beauty, they are made white for ever in the blood of the Lamb;
therefore are they before the throne of God.

"Oh!" said the clergyman, "never forget that this is the only way to
stand before that throne. Being good will never take you there, not
being as bad as others will avail you nothing; if you are ever to enter
heaven, you must be washed white in the blood of the Lamb.

"St. John was allowed to look into heaven, and he saw a great company of
these redeemed ones, and they were singing a new song, to the praise of
Him who had redeemed them. And since St. John's time," said the
clergyman, "oh! how many have joined their number. Every day, every
hour, almost every moment, some soul stands before the city gates. And
to every soul washed in the blood of Jesus those gates of pearl are
thrown open; they are all dressed one by one in a robe of white, and as
they walk through the golden streets, and stand before the throne of
glory, they join in that song which never grows old:--'Amen. Blessing
and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and
might, be unto our God for ever and ever, Amen.'

"And, my friends," said the clergyman, "as the holy God looks on these
souls He sees in them no trace of sin, the blood has taken it all away;
even in His sight they are all fair, there is no spot in them. They are
faultless and stainless, perfectly pure and holy.

"Oh! my friends, will you ever join their number? This is a dark,
dismal, dying world; will you be content to have your _all_ here? Will
you be content never to enter 'Home, sweet Home'? Oh! will you delay
coming to the fountain, and then wake up, and find you are shut out of
the city bright, and that for ever?

"One old man," s