At last the speaker said: “Oh, my dear boys, some of you here have never known what it is to have a friend, yet there has been a Friend by your side always, only begging you to be a friend of His. Some of you have never had a home, yet this Friend has been for nearly two thousand years preparing a home for you that is beyond all your hopes, beyond everything that you can imagine. Some of you have never in your lives had any real joy; this Friend has in His right hand for you pleasures for evermore, and in His presence there is fulness of joy. He can and will do for you exceeding abundantly above all that you ask or think. All these wonderful privileges may be yours for the taking; you haven’t even to ask for them--only say that you will accept them.” Other sweet words followed, but Johnny hardly heard them. In his dark soul there was such a turmoil as he had never before known. New needs, new desires were struggling for expression, and when the preacher dismissed his congregation with the earnest invitation for any to remain behind who felt they would like to know more about this wonderful gift, Johnny sat still in his place with wide, starting eyes following every movement of the preacher. At last that good man, passing from bench to bench, came to Johnny, and at once saw that here was no ordinary seeker after peace. Laying one arm tenderly across Johnny’s bowed shoulders, and with the other hand taking one of the seaman’s gnarled and knotted hands, the missionary said, “Brother, let Him have you. He wants you to be happy, He does want your love. Jesus, gentle Jesus, died for you that you might be happy with Him for all eternity.” With a vehemence that was startling Johnny turned and said, “Does He know me?” “Yes, better than you do,” said the preacher. “And He’s got all these things for me? I’ll work all the rest o’ th’ voy’ge but what I’ll have this--I don’t care what it costs me, I’ll have it. You see if I don’t. I know now it’s what I been wantin’ all my life.” “Gently, my dear brother,” said the preacher, “you can’t buy it. He bought it with His blood to give it to you, and you can’t pay anything for it.” “Why, I never had anythink give me in my life,” said Johnny. “’T ain’t right. Everythink’s got ter be paid for, and I’m going ter pay for this. I’m no beggar, if I am a bit of a thief when I gets the chance.” Now, strange as it may seem, the hardest task that man of God had on that occasion was to convince this poor white savage that the gift of God _was_ a gift. Gladly, joyfully, would he have sold himself into a long slavery to have purchased what he felt he must have, yet for a long time he would not, could not, believe that it was “without money and without price.” At last despairingly he said: “Oh! won’t He take a shillin’ for it? I got one in my chest, a lucky shillin’ with a hole in it I’ve had for years. Let me go aboard an’ get it.”