o Him,
to ask Him to cover it all with His blood, so that that very night they
might lie down to sleep whiter than snow.

"Will you do this?" asked the clergyman, anxiously; "will you?"

And little Christie said in his heart, "Yes, that I will."

As the congregation left, the clergyman stood at the door, and gave a
friendly word to each one as they passed by. He looked very tired and
anxious after his sermon. It had been preached with much prayer and with
much feeling, and he was longing, oh, so earnestly, to know that it had
been blessed to one soul.

There were some amongst the little congregation who passed by him with
serious, thoughtful faces, and as each one went by he breathed an
earnest prayer that the seed in that soul might spring up and bring
forth fruit. But there were others again who had already begun to talk
to their neighbors, and who seemed to have forgotten all they had heard.
And these filled the young minister's heart with sorrow. "Is the seed
lost, dear Lord?" he said, faithlessly. For he was very tired and weary;
and when the body is weak, our faith is apt to grow weak also.

But there was something in Christie's face as he passed out of the room
which made the clergyman call him back and speak to him. He had noticed
the boy's attention during the sermon, and he longed to hear whether he
had understood what he had heard.

"My boy," said the minister kindly, laying his hand on Christie's
shoulder, "can you tell me what my text was to-night?"

Christie repeated it very correctly, and the clergyman seemed pleased.
He asked Christie several more questions about the sermon, and then he
encouraged the boy to talk to him. Christie told him of old Treffy, who
had only another month to live, and who was longing to know how he might
go to "Home, sweet Home." The clergyman promised to come and see him,
and wrote down the name of the court and the number of the house in his
little brown pocket-book. And before Christie went home the clergyman
knelt down with him in the empty mission-room, and prayed that that very
night the dear Lord would wash Christie's soul in His most precious
blood.

Christie walked away very thoughtfully, but still very gladly, for he
had good news for old Treffy to-night. He quickened his steps as he drew
near the court, and he ran up the stairs to the attic, eager to tell all
to the poor old man.

"Oh, Master Treffy!" said Christie; "I've had such a time! It was
beautiful, M