The man went on to speak of this with an intense practical earnestness that soon made John feel as if _he_, individually, were being talked to; and the purport of the speech was this: that God had sent to him, John Morley, a Saviour to save him from his sins, to lift him above his weakness, to help him overcome his bad habits; that His name was called Jesus, because he shall save his people _from their sins_. John listened with a strange new thrill. This was what he needed--a Friend, all- powerful, all-pitiful, who would undertake for him and help him to overcome himself--for he sorely felt how weak he was. Here was a Friend that could have compassion on the ignorant and them that were out of the way. The thought brought tears to his eyes and a glow of hope to his heart. What if He _would_ help him? for deep down in John's heart, worse than cold or hunger or weariness, was the dreadful conviction that he was a doomed man, that he should drink again as he had drunk, and never come to good, but fall lower and lower, and drag all who loved him down with him. And was this mighty Saviour given to him? "Yes," cried the man who was speaking; "to _you;_ to you, who have lost name and place; to you, that nobody cares for; to you, who have been down in the gutter. God has sent you a Saviour to take you up out of the mud and mire, to wash you clean, to give you strength to overcome your sins, and lead you home to his blessed kingdom. This is the glad tidings of great joy that the angels brought on the first Christmas day. Christ was _God's Christmas gift_ to a poor, lost world, and you may have him now, to-day. He may be your own Saviour--yours as much as if there were no other one on earth to be saved. He is looking for you to-day, coming after you, seeking you; he calls you by me. Oh, accept him now!" There was a deep breathing of suppressed emotion as the speaker sat down, a pause of solemn stillness. A faint strain of music was heard, and the singer began singing a pathetic ballad of a lost sheep and of the Shepherd going forth to seek it: "There were ninety and nine that safely lay In the shelter of the fold, But one was out on the hills away, Far off from the gates of gold-- Away on the mountains wild and bare, Away from the tender Shepherd's care. "'Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine; Are they not enough for Thee?' But the Shepherd made answer: ''Tis of mine Has wandered away from me; And although the road be rough and steep I go to the desert to find my sheep.'" John heard with an absorbed interest. All around him were eager listeners, breathless, leaning forward with intense attention. The song went on: "But none of the ransomed ever knew How deep were the waters crossed; Nor how dark was the night that the Lord went through Ere He found His sheep that was lost. Out in the desert He heard its cry-- Sick and helpless, and ready to die."