"Such souls may be raised from the dust, such souls have been raised from the dust. While God spares life we may yet have hope. I have just read of the case of James Stirling, a faithful servant, an earnest worker for God. That man for twenty years was a drunkard, a grief to his wife, a disgrace to his family, an evil example to those around him. If he, by the power of God's Word, was raised from such a depth of sin, who now need despair? What if our sins be many before God, 'the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth from all sin.' The soiled may be made pure and clean. What did the Saviour say to the weeping penitent whom all the world despised? 'Thy sins are forgiven thee, go in peace.' And thus speaks the merciful Lord to the lowly penitent still." "And when a soul is washed from its guilt, it is not left to be idle and useless. When God gives to a sinner a new heart, it is that His Holy Word may be deeply stamped on that heart. Then those who have been cleansed, forgiven, and raised, bear to others the blessed message which they themselves have received. 'Come, hear what the Lord has done for my soul. Come, taste and see that the Lord is gracious;' such are the Bible words printed, as it were, on the heart of every pardoned sinner, who, having been forgiven much, feels that he loveth much." "And once more, dear friends, let me refer to the leaf of the Bible described in my little story, as a picture of a soul redeemed. It too will one day be borne to a palace; not the dwelling of an earthly monarch, but the mansion of the King of kings! Precious will it be in his eyes, and counted amongst His treasures. Oh, what a joyful, glorious end may be reserved for some whom the world call good for nothing, when penitent, pardoned, purified spirits shine as stars in the kingdom of heaven!" The lady ceased, but her words seemed to echo still in the ears of poor Rob. He was fixed to the spot where he stood, scarcely conscious of the bustle around him as the scholars noisily quitted the room. A door of hope had been suddenly opened before the almost despairing lad, a gleam of light had fallen on his darkness. Rob Barker had read the history of his own past life in that of the trampled rag; could a like future be before him, could he ever be one of the "penitent, pardoned, purified" ones, who shall shine at last like the stars? The teacher's attention had been attracted by the wretched appearance and earnest look of the stranger lad. A feeling of interest and pity made her watch him, as he lingered in that room in which he had first learned that it was possible for such as he to be saved. As Rob walked slowly from the place, the lady overtook him, asked his name, and inquired what had brought him to the Ragged School that morning. "I believe that God brought me," murmured Rob, and his answer came from his heart. "Where do you live?" said the lady. "I have no home, no friends," replied the lad, in a tone of gloomy despair.